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muscles have thickened, and
an MRI has shown that there has been a great reduction in brain
matter. There are so many changes being made that it is impossible
to take note of them all, much less determine their implications.
But of note is a strange knot forming in the brain, where the
amygdala and hippocampus are. They far exceed the mass of a normal
person.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “We have no idea. Those areas of the brain
are related to memory and emotion, to put it very simply. Why there
is growth in both of them and deterioration in other areas, I don’t
know. It may not even matter. One way or the other, the patient is
dead. His body temperature is the same as this room. No one could
survive that.”
    They were all quiet.
    “Well,” Chan said. “Perform what tests you
need to. Learn all you can. When you’re finished, have him
incinerated. I will not risk him infecting others.”
    At that moment, Chan’s voice tapered off. I
leaned closer, thinking they were only speaking more softly.
    “Is…is he moving?” one of the assistants
asked.
    There was a long pause. I stopped breathing.
My curiosity won over caution, and I lifted my eyes to the
window.
    All of them were so transfixed on the body
that they were not even looking in my direction. The body of the
man from Bunker 114 was still, inert. Dead.
    Khloe stood next to me, also watching through
the window, her eyes wide. Chan was facing away.
    The body jerked, causing all the men to jump
back. The legs convulsed, swung down from the table, and planted
themselves on the floor. The eyes opened, revealing two completely
white orbs that almost glowed in the semidarkness. As the men cried
out, the man’s arms grappled for one of the assistants.
    “Get him away!” he screamed.
    Chan pulled out a handgun and pointed it at
the patient. “ Freeze !”
    The patient pressed forward, paying no heed.
He leaned into the assistant.
    Chan fired. The bullet entered the patient’s
head, splattering the wall and the assistant with purple and
grayish brain matter. The patient collapsed to the ground, and the
ensuing stench of rot was so foul that it seeped through the edges
of the door. I gagged.
    Immediately, Chan turned, his eyes burning
into me like fire. They narrowed as he scowled, his left cheek
twitching. It was the most emotion I’d ever seen out of him, and it
terrified me.
    He still held the gun in his hand; after a
moment he holstered it. Suddenly, he calmed.
    “Clean this mess up,” he snapped to the
assistants.
    My father was now looking at me with his
soft, brown eyes, wondering why, of all places, I was here. I was
guilty – doubly so, because I had gotten Khloe into trouble too. I
would have to take the fall for that as well.
    But Khloe was not even looking at me. She was
still looking, with widening eyes, at the body. She pointed through
the window.
    “Oh my God…”
    The body on the floor was bloating,
fattening, swelling in the limbs and chest like a balloon.
    Everyone stared in horror at the body, now
fat and trembling uncontrollably. The skin stretched as liquid
beneath it bulged outward. It erupted with a sickening plop.
Purple, gray, and red splattered the walls, the ceiling, covering
the window through which I watched.
    The stench made me vomit in my mouth.
    I turned aside to spit it out. Khloe grabbed
me by the shoulders, pulling me into the main part of the medical
bay.
    I didn’t feel merely physically sick, but
emotionally sick. My dad was in there.
    My dad, who was probably now infected with a
human strain of the xenovirus.

Chapter 8
     
    Khloe pulled me away from the door and back
into the medical bay. We stood there, unsure of what to do
next.
    “Stay here,” Khloe said. “It might be
okay…”
    No words could describe the horror we had
witnessed. The man had come back to life and exploded . I
didn’t see how it was possible. But there was no denying what I had
seen.
    The door opened. The four men walked into the
medical bay.