The Plum Island Conspiracy — Part 5
Series — Security operatives Samuel and Jeffry must escort Plum Island's last coherent researcher, on his mission to cure the virus and lift the facility lockdown.
Marcus, Samuel, and Jeffry pulled up camp chairs to a black trunk – their makeshift table – to begin preparing for a trip over to the research facility. Collins was lying down on his cot on the other side of the room, facing away from the others. Another guard sat beside him. Samuel guessed Collins would refrain from talking much for a while, and certainly wouldn’t be suitable company on the coming expedition.
Marcus tore a page from a blank notepad the trio had found, and began drawing a quick reference map.
“This is the facility,” he said, sketching out an upside down L-shaped building. “Pretty simple from the outside. It’s got two floors and a basement. But this is what we’re interested in, the bit that juts off from the long straight line.” He circled the portion of the drawing that would have made up the base of the letter “L.”
“What’s in there?” Jeffry asked.
“That’s the research lab. Completely airtight; all the oxygen inside is scrubbed, freshened up a bit, and pumped back in to avoid contamination,” he explains. “The rest of the building is all dormitories and offices, along with a common area and cafeteria. But you have to think of the entire facility like a straight line. To get to into this area, we have to go all the way up through the offices on the second floor. From there, we can make our way down to the labs.”
“And that’s where we need to go?” Samuel inquired.
Marcus shakes his head. “That’s just where we work on our crop-based problems. You know, parasites, blights – plant-only dangers that can’t infect humans. Beyond that is the way to the basement, and the ‘main event,’ so to speak. That’s where we keep the specimen, and the instruments.”
“So we grab the sample. And analyze it,” said Jeffrey.
“And if the sequence is a match, they can start work on a vaccine,” Samuel concluded.
“Exactly,” Marcus said.
“What about the people in the lab?” Samuel asked.
“Dead men walking.,” Marcus answered, gravely. “You’d need to be drained dry, have all your bone marrow swapped out to replace your platelets… hell, I’m not even sure that’d work. No; I think for now we should consider every host to be beyond saving.”
The three exchanged grave looks.
“Then we’re going there armed?” Samuel asked.
“Yes,” Marcus agreed, “and prepared to kill.”
***
Samuel checked himself over, making sure all the straps of his HAZMAT suit were appropriately cinched down and sealed off. Slung across his chest was a Heckler and Koch MP5. Guards only needed to pass firearms proficiency for one long, and one mid-to-short range gun. The MP5 was encouraged because of its abundance, and portability. Jeffry carried the same. The untrained Marcus brought a Kel-Tec shotgun.
“Point it in the general direction of the problem. Aim’s not really a factor,” Jeffry assured him.
There was some debate about bringing a medkit, but the group ultimately decided that if they needed patching up, it would probably wind up being too late.
While re-breathers were not necessary since OV-92 was not airborne, they each wore a face shield and a surgical mask. Samuel had reasoned that if a full suit was unnecessary, it would only serve to decrease their mobility and situational awareness. The others had agreed.
Samuel had also insisted on carrying the evidence files with him. If they were rescued directly from the laboratory, he had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t be allowed to go back to retrieve them. He also thought any military personnel who stopped him would likely try to confiscate them. For that reason, he had tucked them securely into his boot, beneath his socks.
The group all gave each other a once over, making sure there were no rips or tears in the suits.
“Everyone good?” Jeffry asked.
“Yeah the suits all look secure,” Marcus answered. He sounded slightly muffled through his surgical mask. “No obvious holes or anything. But the suit will only protect you if it fully covers you. I have limited experience dealing with human hosts. But with that much pressure build up in the brain anything is possible. The responses could vary.”
“What do you mean?” Samuel pressed.
“We don’t know how the other lab researchers will react to us. They could be docile. They might be extremely aggressive, or even violent. And it all really depends on the individual. We’re bringing guns for a reason. If you think one of them will rip off or damage your suit, shoot them,” Marcus said.
Jeffry nodded in understanding.
Samuel turned to look back through the glass door leading up the stairs. The other guards from the outposts dotting Plum Island had all returned safely, and undergone the designated OV-92 detection test.
“Gentlemen,” Samuel addressed the group. “As far as we know, the only healthy people on this island are in this building. If anyone approaches that is not wearing a suit, do not let them in. If we don’t come back…” He trailed off solemnly.
“If we don’t come back, you better pray the military is in a particularly giving mood,” Marcus finished. “God help us all.”
Collins nodded at the team through the glass door. His looked hollowed, his eyes were sunken, but he had managed to pull himself together somewhat. He threw the large handle on the clean side of the airlock to the upward position, opening the doors to the outside world.
When Samuel stepped down onto the front stoop of the old Coast Guard station, the wind almost floored him. Marcus and Jeffry staggered as well. In all the comings and goings, along with the night’s revelations, he had completely forgotten about the hurricane. Hurricane roared overhead, tearing leaves from their boughs. He steadied himself, and focused on the path ahead.
The facility was not far from the guard post. A narrow asphalt path connected the ferry station, research center, and Coast Guard station over the course of about a mile. Tall light posts dotted the sides of the walkway, flickering feebly as the passing gale tugged on the power cables and strained the old wiring.
“Do you think the power will hold up?” Samuel asked.
“Not sure,” Jeffry replied.
Though mostly self reliant – Plum Island did depend on the mainland for a few things, and power was one of them. Heavy-duty wires cased in conduit ran across the bottom of the Long Island Sound, and tapped into Southold’s electric grid. If the town lost power, so did the research facility, and Long Island wasn’t exactly known for having durable infrastructure.
The trio kept to the path, penned in by creaking locust trees that swayed wildly in the wind. This movement caused their shallow roots to partially lift the ground in places, making the ground look as if it were breathing in time with the wind. The rain had at least partially subsided, but was still strong enough to drastically reduce their visibility to about 100 feet. Each new light post seemed to emerge from the void as they pressed on. Because of this low field of vision, Samuel was actually able to hear the facility before he could see it.
As any witness of something terrible may attest to, the most common re-telling of a tragedy – after anecdotal account – is a visual recreation. Crime scene photos, amateurish cell phone recordings, and grainy security camera videos are abundantly found. But the sound of something horrible is a burden only the survivors have the misfortune of bearing. And while Samuel could just barely make out the lights of the lab, looming through a misty veil, he could plainly hear the screams of agony.
“God in heaven,” he whispered, “are those—”
“My fellow researchers, yes,” Marcus finished for him. “They were doing that when I left; though I admit not quite so loud. I can hardly blame them. OV-92 is worming its way into their bones.”
“There goes any hope we had of getting to the lab quietly,” Jeffry said.
The path diverged ahead of them. The left fork wound its way toward the water, and the ferry station. The right curved slightly uphill to the steps of the research lab, perched on a knoll. It had no windows. But the exterior was completely covered with floodlights, which faced in all directions, bathing the open space in harsh white light.
The three walked cautiously up the steps to the double-door entrance.
“Remember, lay low until we can get to the labs,” Marcus reminded the group one last time. “Ready?”
Samuel and Jeffry nodded, raising their guns as a precaution. Marcus pushed open the door. Even if they had wanted to speak, Samuel doubted they would have been able to hear each other. The screaming was so loud, he had a hard time concentrating on his own thoughts.
The entry area — mercifully empty — was about the size of a typical doctor’s office reception room. Off to the right side, there was a counter beneath a sign that said, CHECK PERSONAL AFFECTS HERE. Straight ahead was what looked like a small airport security checkpoint; there was a desk, and a single metal detector. Marcus advanced first, choosing to climb over the desk rather than trip the metal detector. Jeffry and Samuel followed close behind.
As he climbed over the industrial metal furniture, Samuel noticed a large splotch of dark blood, spread across a pile of upset paperwork. He pointed it out to the other two. In turning back, they saw something they had missed on the way in: a trail of ichor, smeared over the metal detector, and leading a back out the front door. Whoever was watching the desk had wandered off into the storm after contracting the virus.
Shit, Samuel thought.
Marcus jerked his head toward a sliding door off to the side of the room. He was right; there was no time to worry about where one person might have wandered. Marcus once again led the group, bringing them into a decontamination shower. He quickly walked to the far end, and hammered in the access code to unlock the way forward.
With one less sound-muffling barrier in their way, the screams grew louder.
The proper interior of the facility showed more signs something sinister had happened. Every doorknob and light switch in sight sported a fair amount of black blood, doubtless smeared by the hosts after dabbing at their leaking eyes.
The left-hand side of this seemingly endless hallway was completely bare. From Marcus’s sketches, Samuel knew the research on relatively innocuous viruses was done behind this wall.
Doors lined the opposite side, each assigned a specific room number. The bulk of the shrieking seemed to be coming from there. Samuel and Jeffry quickly darted after Marcus, as quietly as they could manage. After what felt like an hour of quietly creeping along the corridor, they reached the doors to the stairwell.
The trio slipped inside, taking care to close the doors quietly.
“Thank god no one was in the hall,” Jeffry whispered.
“We got lucky so far,” Marcus replied. “We’re about halfway to the lab, and eventually we’re going to have to find someone to sample. If you see anyone on their own, point them out.”
The group made its way to the top of the stairwell, treading quietly to prevent their footsteps from echoing endlessly off the bare cinderblock walls.
On the second floor landing, Samuel spotted a fire axe hanging next to the doorway. He considered the axe for a moment, before picking it up, and slinging his gun across his back. “Less noisy,” he said.
Jeffry gave a thumbs up.
“I’ll lead on then?” Samuel offered. “The offices are off to the left?”
“Yeah, as soon as we get out into the hallway, duck in,” Marcus confirmed. “Then make your way down to the end, there’s another stairwell.”
“Ready?” Samuel asked the others.
He took a few deep breaths, and placed his gloved hand on the door handle. Samuel pushed it open, and the group’s luck ran out.
A body lying on the floor nearby stopped the heavy metal door as it opened. From what Samuel could see through the opening, an infected host had lost consciousness on the opposite side of the door. But the impact had roused him. The man screamed as he clambered to his feet. His cries seemed to rouse a cacophony of animalistic screeching from a door to their right.
The lab.
While the man by the door was still only halfway to his feet, he took a swipe at Samuel with a dripping black hand. With all his strength, Samuel first pulled the door toward him to crush the former researcher’s fingers, then kicked it back open, knocking the man aside.
Fists pounded on the opposite side of a nearby door. The knob jiggled frantically.
“It hurts, oh God it hurts!” A voice screamed from the room beyond.
“Help us! Can anyone help us?” Another pleaded.
They were talking. Samuel didn’t think they would be talking.
The door burst open, and the screaming woman spilled out, as if propelled forward by the group behind her. She was drenched in what looked like tar, eyes streaming, hands outstretched. The woman lunged forward and latched onto Jeffry, who was closest to the door. She reached for his mask, and he shoved her away. Samuel stepped in and body checked her with the fire ax, knocking her back into the advancing hosts. Seeing an opportunity to clear the path, Jeffry sprayed a barrage of bullets into the doorway. Samuel’s ears rang as the sound echoed off the blood-soaked linoleum floor. Jeffry hip-fired an entire clip of his MP5 before realizing the gunfire was not killing the swarm of contagious lab staff. Rather, it seemed to be deterring them.
“They’re still people,” Marcus called out. “You can hurt them, but the virus makes new blood faster than you can spill it.”
“Go now!” Samuel urged. He used the head of the axe as a ram, jabbing it forward to knock the crowd back. Jeffry raised his gun threateningly – a message the group seemed to understand clearly, even in their infected state – while Marcus covered their rear with his shotgun. In this fashion, the trio’s tight protective triangle shuffled quickly toward the far end of the offices. They navigated the aisles between more of the waist-height industrial desks as the group of OV-92 hosts slowly shuffled after them, keeping a safe distance from Samuel’s axe.
“Door!” Marcus called out. They had reached the secondary stairwell down into the laboratory.
“Open it, check it,” Jeffry urged, not taking his eyes off the crowd. “Be sure it’s safe.”
The sound of the creaking hinges momentarily pulled Samuel’s attention. He half-turned his head to inspect the stairwell. By the time he snapped around to face forward, the same woman was now lunging at him. Seeing a gruesome opportunity, Samuel sidestepped and shoved the woman sideways, leaving her splayed out across a desk. He raised the fire axe above his head. In one fluid motion, Samuel brought the axe down on the host’s wrist, severing the hand. Ichor spewed from the open wound, and the woman began thrashing.
He kicked her away, and bolted.
Next episode coming soon
Thank You for Reading!
This post is part of the Plum Island Novella, following journalist Calvin Noble’s attempts to uncover a lab leak at a controversial research facility.
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