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Infected
Posted By: Mech<xxmitsurxx@hotmail.com>
Date: 12 June 2006, 12:23 am
Read/Post Comments
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Infected
"What, in fact, happens to the human body when it is, forgive the expression, 'flooded' with a foreign material? What does the parasite known as the 'Flood' specifically does to a human being when it takes over? These are the questions I plan to answer with my research. Soon, I hope to present these finding to Humanity and protect them from a planet-wide takeover."
-ONI Prof. Spencer T. Jakobs, on a tape recorder found among his personal effects after his death.
"Welcome aboard the UNSC Asclepius. Where only the best medical treatment for our troops is accepted. We work hard with out doctors to find better and safer ways to help those in need." The female voice just seemed to drone on and on. Not that second lieutenant Keaton Thompson cared. He was living the high life in one of the most exclusive and safest medical ships the UNSC had. The place even had its own lobby, in which some patients were allowed to stay in. This was what Keaton was doing right now. Sitting back, relaxing, and watching the almost constant stream of people coming in from docked ships. It was a usual day, which meant that around fifty people were visiting their injured relatives.
The lobby itself looked like a museum. Marble floors and marble ceiling. They had even put fake support beams that looked like Roman columns in each of the corners. And then there were the plants. Neatly potted in what looked like plastic trying to look like ceramic, the plants were obviously fake, albeit good fakes. The information desk, taking up the theme of the room, was marble as well, with small Greek statues on each end. They must have been worth a fortune. The people behind the desk had the usual fake-smiles plastered on their faces. Just another reason in Keaton's mind to dislike the apparent spending of the hospital to look nice. Still, Keaton was getting what he considered a free ride, besides the occasional 'test'. All they did was make him go into a secluded room, with a doctor who checked him out with the usual physical and other basic scans. Keaton had long ago lost the shame of standing naked before someone else.
The original reason Keaton had been sent to the UNSC Asclepius was because he had been one of the only survivors of a still-classified ONI project. Keaton couldn't remember half of it, but when he lay still in his room with no sounds around him, dark flashes reached his mind.
Hellish tentacles whipping everywhere. Battle-hardened men screaming like little kids. People begging for death. And, worst of all, Keaton feeling something sliding itself into his chest.
Keaton shook himself out of his brooding. He shouldn't be focusing back on the hallucinations. That was what the doctors had called it the first time he had told them.
"It's just a side effect from the drugs. Don't worry about it. Most people who had to fight through what you did reported the same things happening to them later on. Now take these, they'll help you sleep." They always ended on the same line. "Now take these, they'll help you sleep." Keaton had a sneaking suspicion they weren't just for sleeping. But still, why should he throw away a great life on what was practically a free mansion for some stupid paranoia? So he would take them anyway, washing away his doubts as he did. He stood up, and stretched. He gave a small moan as his stiff legs worked themselves out, and headed to the elevator. On the way, he accidentally bumped into someone hurrying out of it. They both fell to the ground with a crash, and Keaton cried out as he landed on his arm. The other person stood, and held out his hand, apologizing profusely.
"I'm really very sorry, I didn't see you there." The man said, and for a moment, Keaton was overcome by a single urge. Food said a voice in his head. But it wasn't Keaton's voice. It was another's. Something vile and alien. Then the moment passed. Keaton grabbed the stranger's hand, and told him it was nothing to worry about. Keaton's arm did hurt, however. It felt like a rather bad bruise. After the stranger walked away, Keaton walked to the elevator, cradling his injured arm. He hit the button for the med area, and the gravity shift lifted him slightly, then deposited him back onto the floor. The door opened with what Keaton very much suspected was a sinister bing and he stepped out onto the med area. The doors closed behind him, and he walked to the nearest doctor, who was doing what looked like solving a Rubik's cube.
"Excuse me, doctor, but I hurt my arm and I'd like you to look at it. It hurts pretty bad." Keaton said to the doctor. He noticed that the doctor's desk looked slightly shabby, with loose papers here and there, and what looked like coffee stains on the desk. Still, the man looked nice, with blond hair and kind eyes. Laugh lines were etched on his forehead and around the eye-tips. The doctor put the cube down and examined Keaton's arm. With many 'uh-huh's and 'yes's, he stood and motioned for Keaton to follow him to the X-ray room. He took the door to the room's control area, and Keaton took the door to the room. Inside it was dark, with only a flat, rubber mat on a raised platform. Above it was the X-ray machine. And at the very end was a window to the control room, where the doctor was adjusting controls. He looked up, and gave Keaton a thumb's up. Keaton laid down on the mat, and the machine started to life.
A few seconds later, it was over. Keaton looked to the doctor, who was waiting for the X-rays to be transmitted to his screen. The doctor then looked as if he had been shocked. Keaton walked out of the room, and then entered the control room door. The doctor saw him coming, though, and closed the x-rays. But not before Keaton saw a huge lump in the torso area.
"So, how's my arm, doctor?" Keaton asked, pretending he had not seen the x-ray. But inside, he was a frenzy of thought. What was that lump in me? Where did it come from?
The doctor swallowed, and spoke with the tone of voice a person would us to talk to someone who might kill him or her at any moment.
"Y-yes...w-well it seems to b-be just a bruising of the arm, nothing more. I-I'll g-g-give you some painkillers to help the pain, of course. It s-should be better in a week." He said, never quite looking in Keaton's eyes. He reached into his coat pocket, and, after a while, took out a small bottle, on which the label said quite clearly 'PAINKILLERS: TO BE TAKEN ONLY TWICE PER DAY'. Keaton thanked him, and took the bottle. And then he went back to his room, took the pills, and laid down to sleep. But sleep would not come to Keaton that night. The dreams were coming again. Just as he would drift off, screams would wake him again. Tortured screams. He laid awake all night, sweating. Finally, around five in the morning, Keaton drifted off, the dreams leaving him alone for the moment.
"I think he's figuring out the truth."
"Really?"
"Yes. One of our doctors x-rayed him, and accidentally showed him a picture of his chest. I looked at the picture myself. A blind man couldn't have missed that lump. That thing's getting bigger. I'm sure of it."
"But why hasn't he been taken over yet? That's the million dollar question."
"The studies are still going on. The best guess we have is that it's waiting for the best time to take over completely. Kind of like a animal waiting for the best conditions before mating."
"Hm. Well, don't make him think anything's wrong. Drug him up some more, and increase the amount of tests."
"What about security, sir? That thing could get him at any time."
"True. Put a guard at his door. Make up an explanation. Any explanation that doesn't make him want to find our why."
"Who would've thought the Flood had patience?"
"Not me, that's for sure. Delete this conversation when you can. I don't want this getting out."
Keaton woke up at around noon. He pulled himself up, breathing hard. He was surprised that he was so tired.
I'm really getting out of shape after the military. Keaton thought. Then his mind roved over the lump in his chest. What could it have been? Keaton looked at his feet, thinking hard. The pain in his arm seemed to be intensifying. He scratched at it, trying to block out pain with different pain. He looked at it. it was rapidly turning a mottled brown, like dead leaves. The skin also seemed to be getting spongy. He scratched and scratched and scratched and scratched and scratched and scratched it until-
He woke up. His arm was fine. Nothing hurt at all. But then he looked down. Something was withering in his chest. Keaton desperately clawed at it.
"ARGHHH! GET! IT! OUT! OF! ME!" Screaming, he clawed and raked at his chest until it burst open and something horrible pulled itself out and screamed right back at him. It was horrible, covered in Keaton's own blood and insides. It leaped at his face, grabbers held wide, ready to feast on his face. Keaton screamed again and grabbed at it and it exploded into a dense gory cl-
"Hold him down, hold him down! He's having an attack! I TOLD YOU TO HOLD HIM DOWN! THAT THING'S TAKING CONTROL!" A voice yelled it out as strong hands gripped Keaton's legs and arms. Keaton's limbs were resisting him, and he eventually realized that he was trying to bite his holders. Then he felt something inject him on the arm and his chest moved in rapid ups and downs, ups and downs, like something was inside fighting to get out. Keaton blacked out again.
When he woke up, Keaton felt great. He was in a nice warm, comfortable bed. His chest was fine, and his arm was just as humanly as ever. He stood up, and walked outside. Then someone lead him back inside to his room. Keaton apologized, saying he had forgotten about it. The guard gave him a friendly wave, as did the guard who was coming down the hall. the security camera even seemed to give him a friendly beep. When Keaton got into the covers again, the metal bars in front of the door slammed shut, and, smiling, Keaton hummed a tune to himself. Dismissing the thoughts of the event before, Keaton marveled about how nice everyone was to him.
Besides, why waste such a great day with paranoid thoughts?
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