The lift defended agonizingly slowly, giving me far too much time to consider my current predicament. This was lunacy, pure and simple, what was I doing? What was I even hoping to find at the end of it, a coven of alien kidnappers who'd have me outnumbered and outgunned? Most likely a fully operational government facility operating normally followed by a swift incarceration if I was being honest. The elevator came to a gentle standstill and the doors hissed open. I stepped out carefully, examining my surroundings.
I emerged into a small changing room. On the left of the room stood a number of lockers, about 20 altogether, while the right hand side contained benches and shelves stocked with wrapped overalls. The far wall had an entryway covered by an opaque plastic curtain. Since no alarms had been triggered immediately, I continued forward through the curtain to find myself in a small boxy corridor. Ahead of me was a reinforced steel door, like something from a bank vault, with no visible means of opening it. On my right was a window opening into a small reception area or security desk. A young woman sat at a computer staring at me. Behind me, a similar door descended from the ceiling, trapping me in the passageway. The woman continued to stare at me, vacantly.
"Um... excuse me?" I said, nervously. "I appear to be lost."
She remained silent. I approached the glass, watching for the slightest movement from her as I drew closer. She was impassive. Slowly, I raised my hand, palm open wide. Still no reaction. So I slapped the window pane. Nothing happened for a moment, then her head tilted forward and she slumped into her chair. The vibration from my banging must have disturbed the precarious balance of her corpse, as she was clearly dead. Curiously, because her head had lolled to the side, I could now see her temple, which appeared to have some kind of implant fused to it. A single red LED blinked in the mass of metal affixed to her skull.
I staggered backwards, still not at ease with the sight of death, despite the slaughter I witnessed, and the lives I'd taken, during the Vakarian crisis. That was different. It was a matter of survival then, a warzone. This was an innocent bystander, killed as part of some as of yet unexplained scheme. Killed by the same thing that had taken Susan, and the other students. I took a few deep breaths, and tried to focus. Maybe I was overreacting. After all, maybe she'd died because of a leaked pathogen, or maybe she was merely unconscious. But the thought of entering a contaminated laboratory didn't really help me feel assured.
Before I could really worry about anything else however, I had to escape from my current predicament. The glass pane was too thick to be smashed, and I didn't have a decent implement anyway. Besides, if there was a contamination, I didn't want to risk unleashing it from the facility. I'd have to go through the quarantine doorway. With some effort and a handy probe, I managed to remotely trigger the door release button on the desk through the window. In response, the lights in the room dimmed and turned red, as a klaxon blared. With a rushing sound, thick clouds of gas poured into the room though nozzles in the ceiling. I regretted not bringing a respirator of some kind, but it was too late to worry now. All I could do was hope it was a non-toxic anti-bacterial spray and not a lethal security measure. Thankfully it turned out to be the former as by the time the gas had dispersed and the door opened, I wasn't a twitching heap on the floor. Before it had time to close again, I continued out of the quarantine chamber into another corridor. The air pressure here was lower than in the chamber, so that any contaminated air would not escape the facility.
I was standing in a stark white corridor that stretched on ahead of me. Several passages led perpendicular from the hallway at regular intervals, each labeled and signposted, while the end of the corridor led to a sealed stairwell. The blood trail was thinning out now, but I could still make out sporadic droplets, contrasted clearly against the cleanliness of the surroundings. More obvious were the scratched tiles following the same path as the blood. I could imagine the torso-figure, one arm dragging Susan while the other pulls itself forward, all the while scraping it's torn waist along the ground. I knew I must be getting closer to Susan.
About half way along the hall, a metal trolley was upturned across one of the side paths. A number of test tubes and agar plates were scattered over the floor, some visibly smashed. If any of them contained an airborne virus, it was too late for me to worry, otherwise I guessed I'd be fine so long as I didn't lick anything. Careful not to touch anything unnecessarily, I approached the accident. As I drew level, I noticed the body of someone previously hidden by the angle of the corridor. They were slumped against a wall a short ways into the side passage. The figure was dressed in a silver hazmat suit that covered them completely. Even the face visor was tinted so I couldn't see who was inside. It remained unresponsive to my voice, and some prodding with my foot.
"Are you dead?" I asked aloud, hoping the answer wouldn't be an affirmative. As expected there wasn't a reply, so I decided to check the person's vital signs. While I don't have any particular medical training, I can measure a pulse. I squatted down on my haunches and eased the mask from the prone figure before me. Underneath the mask, I could see it was a man wearing a respirator and the same cotton bodysuit as the ones I'd passed in the reception. He too had the same cybernetic implant on his face as the woman I'd seen. Possibly, it was a sort of monitoring device, or security tag for the researchers? That was the least disturbing explanation at least. All my other guesses were extraterrestrial in nature. I checked for a pulse but found none. The body was cold to the touch. Dead.
I began to piece together one possible interpretation of events. This poor guy crashed his cart, unleashed something dangerous and lethal, which spread far enough to kill at least him and the woman from earlier. I didn't like it though. How had he been infected through his suit, and how did Susan and her attacker factor into everything? While I was theorising, I'd kept my hand on the dead man's neck. Suddenly, I felt a pulse. Just a single solitary beat. I dismissed it as my imagination. Nervousness and a foolish obsession with George Romero. Then I felt it again. Sluggish, one beat every few seconds, slowly increasing in frequency. I backed away from the body, tensing with fear, as with stiff motion, it began to rise from the floor.
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