Fibre Mortem: Rhesus Factor

1

 "Wake up, Sweetheart!" Reese screams sarcastically and I groan out my disgust. 

Let me explain something about Reese; He's an asshole. At least, he's been one since the moment I met him and that was quite some time ago. You would think for a guy who's not had much luck in the apocalypse he'd be a little nicer, but no, he's an arrogant bastard.

He used that to his advantage when he strong-armed--I mean charmed his way into the facility about two year's ago. He also managed to get on my dad's good side, but really, anyone could probably get on my dad's good side. Ever since, he's been our lead scavenger. 

I know what you're thinking. My dad use to be a doomsday hoarder way before shit went south on the planet and that's still true, but get this he's a doomsday hoarder that used to work for the CDC. It's been a long time and we do have people who rely on my dad for things. So, in comes Reese. He may be an ass but he's got street smarts on the outside and I will admit, we need that. Just don't tell him that, wouldn't want him thinking he's important or something. 

"You realize that the louder you scream, the dumber you sound, right?" I plop my head back onto my pillow. No way is he serious about waking me up at five in the morning. 

He steps into my room that I share with a young girl named Stephanie and pours some of his water from his bottle onto my head without warning. "Wouldn't need to scream if you'd just get your ass into gear, Liv. Not everyone goes to bed in the wee hours. Some of us actually listen to the curfew rule." 

I gasp as the water hits me and shriek at him, "You know, I wouldn't have pegged you for a rule follower, Reese. You just don't fit the bill." I eye him with disgust for good measure. 

He turns away not even bothered by my childish insults, "Usually you'd be right but when you go practically eight years not sleeping and always on the run...you learn to cherish a good night's sleep. Life lesson over with, get up, Princess. You've got a busy day ahead of you." 

Through narrow slits, I mentally think of wonderful names I'd like to call him and kick my covers off of me. 

I may be tired, but the dillhole is right... again. I do have plenty to do in the lab today including my night raids through the computer system. My dad realized quickly into the apocalypse that I had a knack for science. So he taught me everything he could, slowly at first, he didn't really want me knowing about the virus. Eventually, he realized he could trust me enough to let me in on his plan. 

His thought process is that the infected can no longer be cured, so he wants to engineer some sort of bioweapon that will finish them, while still leaving the living, breathing humans alive. My dad is smart, and I know he's really close to something, but I think a little differently. Killing them may solve the being eaten part, but how do we really know that it'll kill the virus too? 

So, maybe I can't find a cure for the already infected but, I'd really like to try and make a vaccine that'll prevent it from spreading amongst the living. My dad wouldn't be supportive of it as he's the boss so his ideas come first and his is to, basically, turn our dead brethren into soup. So I roll with it and just work on my project on the side. 

I walk into chaos. Papers are spread out everywhere and people are shouting. Not exactly how I'd like to spend my morning but, I'm here so, I might as well get nosey. I was further into our rather cozy lab when I slip on something wet and get sent immediately on a trip to Ouchville. 

I lay there embarrassed for a moment before the smell hits. I've smelled this before. It's a smell that haunts my ever present nightmares. It's a cross between that musty-You-know-it's-dead smell,  uncooked beef that's been left out a little long and raw sewage. Ever needed to know what the apocalypse smells like, well there you have it. 

I sit up reluctantly and look at what's caused my spill. Yep. It's the accompanying brown muck that dribbles out and signals the presence of the undead. It's a never-ending body fluid that stinks to the high heavens and I know in that moment that someone has brought one into the lab and forgotten to clean up. 

This isn't the first time this has happened, actually, it's a normal occurrence since we have to test the latest weapon and what better way than to bring one in and test on it. Safely, of course, we have storing units that separate us from them with a sheet of thick plexiglass. 

I'm already in a bad mood, having been covered in muck and taking a spill on the floor, so when I get to the holding area of the lab I'm ready to say some choice words. 

"Which one of you idio--" The rest of my question never leaves my mouth. Kneeling before me, eating what I assume was Richard, is this grotesque carcass of what was once a human. I stand there shell-shocked. 

I've never seen this happen, ever. Here is this half rotten, animated body having a smorgasbord on one of my colleagues, and I'm just standing there like a cattle bell ringing, "Dessert has arrived!"

It's like that bell is ringing loudly now because the thing looks up and notices me. "Oh shit." I manage to mumble out before it starts scrambling my way.  It's a scary feeling, knowing that you're about to be eaten by the ugliest thing in the world and there is nothing you can do but panic and think about a zombie eating you while you watch. 

Subconsciously, I begin to walk backward, still trying to put distance between me and Mr. Hungry. My hand hits a tray and I manage to grab for the dissecting scissors. It's not much, but it's better than nothing at this point. 

He's an arm's length away when I decide to lunge, aiming my scissors right for his head. We grapple together, who knew that zombies would do that? I'm struggling to get the scissors into his head but I know my life is on the line, his isn't anymore. He lost his fight maybe a year ago judging by the decomp. 

Snarling, and spitting sticky, green and brown fluid into my face, it fights harder. I gag. This shit really stinks. Suddenly, I feel myself slip and my mind fills with dread. I've slipped in this shithead's goo and that's how I know I'm going to meet my end. 

We tumble down, and he lands on top of me with a saggy thud. It knocks the wind out of me, but Mr. Hungry here doesn't breathe so he continues to try and grab a bite to eat. The sound of his teeth hitting each other as he mindlessly gnaws for something to latch onto make me sick. 

This is it. This is how I go down in the apocalypse. When everyone says that your life flashes before your eyes, well, they're fucking lying. All I can think about is how much of waste my life as been. I haven't found the cure, I mean, for fuck's sake my dad has sheltered me in here without any knowledge to defend myself. Would I be in this mess if I knew how to protect myself? I'll never know. 

Hopefully, they find the dissecting scissors still in my cold, lifeless hands. Maybe they'll know I didn't go down without a fight. I don't want anyone knowing that I was a scared pansy in my last few minutes of life. 

I'm still fighting though, my hands are underneath his chest, trying to keep his mouth from my neck but I'm slowly losing my gusto. I don't know how long I've got until he sinks his rotten, nasty teeth into me. 

Just as he's about to gnaw on my jugular, I hear an explosion. I think it's an explosion anyway, it's so loud compared to everything else and then Mr. Hungry just slumps over me, leaking a profuse amount of nasty fluid all over me. 

"Oh, I think I'm going to hurl." I breathe out, trying to roll him off of me.

"Just don't do it on my shoes, Princess. It's the only pair I have." Reese says stepping up to my head. 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You? You, of all people, are the one to save my sorry ass?" I manage to make it to my knees. I really need to work out, at least get some cardio in. I make a mental note to use one of the lab's treadmills later.

"No need to thank me, just doing my job. Can't have all the scientists dying on me, what with the chance of survival hanging on your very existence. Were you bitten?" He asks kicking Mr. Hungry.

"No, I don't think so." I really think I am going to hurl now. The adrenaline and the stench are making me nauseous. Yup, I'm going to vomit.

I proceed to throw up all over Reese's shoes before I faint.