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Solomons Gamble

"And they brought a sword before the king. And the king said, divide the living child in two..."
1 Kings iii, 23-24

Look, this whole thing was not my fault. I see the way you're looking at me. I see the judgement in your eyes. I know what you must be thinking and I don't blame you, but you know how things were when it went down, you know how crazy it was! Ok ok, I know this isn't about you, but look...just let me explain myself, ok? You'll see my side, I promise. You'll see that in the end, I had no choice.
You remember that day, the day that the world headed toward the proverbial fan. You were at home with the kids, while I was working at the hospital, treating the infection the news was talking about. Infection, yeah right. Let me tell you, it was far worse than anything Hospital Director Higgs allowed us to the news and the complete flipside from what those lying bast*rds at the CDC fed the public.
I'm so sorry that I had to hide it from you, but I can tell you everything now, now that all of those pretentious, fork-tongued a*sholes are either shambling about looking for a hot meal, or lying somewhere with their brainboxes blown out. Please, just let me tell you what happened...
There was a meeting the night it started, over a month ago, I believe. The night you left that message that you were pissed with me for turning off my cellphone, remember? Well, I thought I had a good reason for it, at the time. It was near the end of my shift and quite suddenly, I was called to report to Observation Room One. It turned out that three patients were being flown in from Springfield, Missouri, -special patients, all very hush-hush. When they arrived, complete with a two-man military escort, the patients were secured and sent to be viewed by myself and two others: Director Higgs and our infection specialist, Dr. Ti Woo. Think about it! Up until that point, I'd only been allowed to treat and transfer the infected to the quarantine center in Chicago, so I considered it a big deal to be in the Big Boys Club, for once. God, ignorance is so bloody bliss...
Higgs briefed us, as we waited for their arrival, on the patients general prognosis: solanum viral contraction, advanced stages, blah blah blah. I'd been treating this very thing with increased frequency for the last eight weeks or so and had heard several times about the odd characteristics of advanced solanum infection. What could be so different about these people? I found out as they pulled back the curtain.
Flanked on either side by a soldier, I saw three gurneys parked in a row in front of us. On the left was a blonde woman named Stacy Meadows, thirty-one, unconscious and terribly anemic, her skin taking on a grey color. She was deep in a coma, her breathing shallow and vitals barely registering, but was hanging in there, for the time being. I noticed a gaping bite, human and all too familiar, which had festered on her left forearm and that both hands were missing several fingers. Higgs announced that the wounds on Mrs. Meadows had come from her husband, gesturing to the gent on the middle gurney, who was thrashing against his restraints and moaning loudly.
Mr. Henry Meadows was thirty-six. He was also, to be blunt, dead as a doornail. I mean flatlined all the way across the board, and he looked the part. Grey, mottled skin, bluing on the underside of his body, distending torso, sunken facial features, milky white irises, the whole enchilada. A ragged wound, underneath loose and bloody bandages, on the back of his left knee oozed brown fluid, which stunk to high hell.
Higgs gave Dr. Woo and myself the details from the police report. Dispatch had received several calls from concerned neighbors of what seemed to be a routine, but violent domestic. After hearing Mrs. Meadows screaming bloody murder inside, the responding officers kicked in the door and found Mr. Meadows digging into his wifes arm with apparent gusto. Unfortunately, they arrived too late to keep him from making an appetizer of some of her fingers. They told him to freeze and he immediately turned on them, tearing out one officers throat while the other emptied his service revolver into Mr. Meadows back, screaming for backup, (and a long time after that, I imagine). In the end, it took several officers to restrain him, with several of them bitten or scratched by him in the process. They were bieng "evaluated" at Mercy in Chicago, Higgs said, (the bast*rd even made the whole two-fingered quotation gesture, all the while smiling like a fox in the henhouse.) The report added that before lapsing, Mrs. Meadows had told officers that her husband had been sick for the last few days, since receiving a bite from something in a pond he was dredging at the time.
I stared at him as he growled and moaned on that gurney and slowly realized that everything, every rumor I had heard and dismissed about this infection over the last two months was true. The man moved, in spite of having absolutely no vitals and several bullet holes in his back. It hit me then, like a shot to the gut. All of those people I had treated that were in the early stages of this very thing I was witnessing, the ones I had sent to "treatment centers". I, they, had no idea what was happening, what was really happening, you know? Just that moment of realization, along with the fact that Mr. Meadows had caked blood from chin to chest and bits of shredded tissue still between his teeth, nearly made me run from the room. Maybe, just maybe I should've...
The third gurney was the reason I didn't. She was only seven, according to Higgs report, blonde hair like her mother. Her small arms were tied securely to the sides of the gurney, her blue eyes wide and brimming with tears. Her name was Katie, and according to preliminaries, had not been bitten, though she did have blood on her nightgown. When Dr. Woo noted that fact to Higgs, he gave us a smug look and said simply, '...yet.'
He went on to say that the Meadows family was not an isolated incident, that reports of violent incidents with the infected were increasing at an alarming rate, so much so that the federal government was quickly reaching the point of being unable to play down the truth for much longer. We, the physicians in the trenches, were ordered by good ol' Uncle Sam, to do our best to minimize the inevitable media fallout by collecting as much data from advanced infected as possible. We were to do this as discreetly as possible, while the bigheads in Washington decided how to tell the American People that the infected dead were getting back up and munching on their families like so much barbecue.
Our offical duties were straightforward. Step one: conduct a full autopsy on Mr. Not-So-Dead Meadows. Step two: wait for Mrs. Meadows to turn and repeat step one. Step three: infect the girl and get ringside seats on the complete evolution of a solanum infection, repeat step two, then step one. Higgs would compile and send the gathered information to the CDC in D.C., who would ingest it with a healthy handful of crackers and sh*t out a vaccine, hopefully before things got really out of hand.
All the while, I was staring at the girl, Katie, who witnessed the entire, horrific event with her parents while hiding under the kitchen table. There she was, strapped to a table, in a room with her psychotic corpse of a dad, her dying mother and strangers in white labcoats military fatigues, listening to her fate. She was looking at me, her eyes burning into mine. It made my heart absolutely sick. I mean, I was a doctor and have seen and treated grief-stricken or terrified children hundreds of times, but this, this was so much worse...it was inhuman.
I was trying to wrap my head around what to do, when suddenly, from the gurney across the room, Mrs. Meadows let out a huge sigh and flatlined. Her vitals monitor immediately sounded high electronic alarms as her bowels released in a liquid rush, the smell mingling with her husbands decay, (which was bad enough, believe me). As Dr. Woo reached over to shut off the wailing monitor, the soldier near him groaned, then unceremoniously retched all over the floor, splashing his boots and Woos loafers with partly-digested MRE.
Private Pukeys addition to the already unique bouquet in the room must have been right up Mr. Meadows alley. He went completely nuts, pulling on his restraints with renewed vigor, moaning loudly and gnashing his teeth with loud clacking sounds. Higgs was just yelling at the green-faced private to grab a mop, when Mr. Meadows, in his apparent excitement, bit off his own tongue with a sickening crunch, sending brownish fluid spraying from the stump in his mouth as he whipped his head from side to side in a frenzy, gurgling and spitting like a mouthwash commercial.
Dr. Woo cried out that he had gotten some of the droplets in his mouth, spitting vigorously as he smeared the dark drops that had landed on his face with the sleeve of his labcoat. Higgs, his face red as devils by this time, pointed at the other soldier, (who had been staring at the fiasco with his mouth hanging open), and yelled that he was to secure Dr. Woo for infection testing. This seemed to make Woo forget about the crap on his face and with a cry of something in his native tongue, (probably to the effect of 'I'm out of here!', he ducked for the door. He never made it.
Private Pukey, who was closest to Woo and the door, grabbed at the good doctors collar, nearly slipping in his own uppage. Woo turned and pushed the soldier, who went boots-up onto the floor with a loud grunt. His weapon discharged a round into the ceiling as he hit, raining white chunks of plaster onto his prostrate, puke-covered self. The other soldier, Corporal Codfish, had obviously regained enough composure to raise his rifle and paint the wall with Woos innards. As Woo slipped to the ground in a dead heap and I quickly wheeled the gurney Katie was strapped to into a corner, Mr. Meadows succeeded in pulling a hand free from his restraint, (minus most of his skin), with a wet tearing sound. He swiped at Higgs who, with a disgusted grunt, instinctively kicked outward, knocking the gurney and the howling Mr. Meadows into Corporal Codfish. They both tumbled to the floor with a loud crash, the soldiers still-smoking weapon clattering across the room.
I remember Codfish screaming as Mr. Meadows dragged his jagged nails across the soldiers face, leaving deep ruts which bled vigorously down his chin and into his lap. Pukey had gained his footing by that time, rushed over and fired several rounds into Meadows, who had torn through the other soldiers fatigues and was chewing on his thigh. One of the rounds went straight into the back of Mr. Meadows head, split it like a rotten melon, (which, judging from the smell, probably was), and continued on into the Corporals leg, severing his femoral artery in a bloody jet. He clutched his ruined leg and begin a succession of impressively high screams that actually rivaled Mrs. Meadows vitals montior, which was still telling everyone the bad news about her condition in a continuous beep.
Meanwhile, Higgs had retrieved the Corporals weapon and was pointing it at the room in general, with a crazy look in his eyes. He walked over and hit Mrs. Meadows monitor with the butt of the rifle, which fell over and was finally still. He then pointed at Pukey and ordered him to collect his now unconscious Corporal and secure him for infection testing. Turning his back to them, he walked over and steadied the barrel at me. He told me that I would have to surrender myself and the girl to infection quarantine, along with the two soldiers. When I suggested that he join the party as well, he just laughed and told me that someone had to oversee the autopsys, but that he would acknowledge my post-humus contribution in his report to the CDC.
I was about to respond, when there was a moan from the dead womans gurney. ****, that was fast, I thought. Higgs apparently thought the same thing and turned his head toward the new-and-improved Mrs. Meadows. Seeing my chance, I belted out a battle cry and shoved Katies gurney hard into Higgs, which sent him tumbling into the pileup of Mr. Meadows and the now bled out and very dead Corporal, the rifle flying from his hands as he fell. I jumped to my feet and grabbed it from the floor, as Higgs, his labcoat covered in blood, struggled to untangle himself from the two corpses, yelling for Pukey to stop me. The private, though, was long gone, his bloody bootprints made a red trail through the now open door and into the hall.
I laid the rifle next to Katie on the gurney and covered her with a bedsheet. I wheeled her through the door just as the police arrived in the hall, guns drawn. I hurriedly told them that Higgs was infected and that the room must be locked immediately until the CDC arrived and that I was taking the girl to ICU. Whether it was the fact that the room looked like something out of an axe-murder flick, complete with struggling dead woman, or that I was the only doctor in the room not covered in blood, they nodded and slammed the door shut. I smiled as I walked away, Higgs pounding on the door behind me. He and Mrs. Meadows were perfect for each other, I thought.
I wheeled Katie down the main corridor and into a maintenance stairwell. There, I unbuckled her restraints, wrapped the rifle in the sheet, and carried both down the stairs and into the parking garage.
As I loaded her into my car, I realized that she had not made one sound the entire time. I sat in the drivers seat and looked at her through the rearview mirror. She looked back at me and actually smiled. It was then that I noticed something about her, something I'd seen many times before. It was different with her, though. As my second eureka moment of the night hit me like a ton of bricks, I sat in my car and thought hard for what seemed like forever of what I should do. Finally, I made up my mind and turned the ignition.
I grabbed some cash from a nearby atm and some supplies from Walmart. Satisfied that I was ready for the long haul, I made tracks out of Kansas City and headed west, stopping only for gas and a bit of sleep. When I finally arrived at that old hunting lodge timeshare in Colorado, (the one you hated, by the way), we holed up and laid low. I watched the news and Katie, scared that at any moment, SWAT would bust down the door and drag me off, like we used to see on COPS, but no one ever came. I wanted to call you badly, nearly every day, but I was afraid my phone would be traced if it were on, and I couldn't let them have Katie, no matter what. It was only when I saw the infection reach outbreak levels, that I summoned the conviction to try and get you out. I packed up and left Katie at the lodge, with plenty of food and instructions on how to stay safe. She's pretty smart, by the way, though she still to my knowledge hasn't spoken one word. I headed back to Kansas City, my head full of visions of rescuing you, guns blazing if neccessary. I swear it's true.
God, I had never imagined how bad things had become. The dead and undead in the streets, the fires, the anarchy. Getting shot at, people dying in the streets, wild kids with bats, -it was almost surreal. The highways were choked with cars, so I used mostly backroads, dodging abandoned vehicles and rotting bodies as best I could. The undead, (I can call them that now), were everywhere, in the streets and buildings, their ravaged bodies bloated with the meat of the poor saps too slow or unable to escape, their moans a constant undertone, the white noise of the city of the dead. I can't even tell you how much ammo I used up before I realized that a headshot could turn them from meat-eater to meat again really quick.
In spite of all of that, when I arrived home again, I honestly still thought that you were all alive, that you had hidden somewhere and waited it out, like me and Katie did. I can't even begin to discribe the pain I felt whe I found Tracy in her room, her little throat torn out and...and still trying to get out of the closet you must have locked her in. I hope you sent the undead ******* who did that to her straight back to hell. Oh, and I took care to put her to rest quietly, my love. Patrick...I found him where you left him in our room. I don't blame you for what you did...I saw the bite on his arm. The way you laid him out on the bed like he was sleeping, turning his head so the bullethole couldn't be seen...he looked so peaceful.
Now you, my wife, my dear Elizabeth. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I left you to end up like this. I would've come back, should've perhaps, but I had to protect Katie. You see, what I saw in the car that night changed everything. When I looked at her, I saw the signs of advanced infection that I had treated so many times before... but she was stable, the monitor showed it. I watched her over the weeks to be certain I was correct and she continues to be completely stable. Do you realize the implication? She may actually hold the key, that vaccine turd the CDC was looking for. Higgs would probably have simply killed her, sent her to the CDC to die along with me, with countless others. She could've been overlooked. I will make sure that she isn't.
I had to choose, though, once I realized what Katie might be, you see? I had to choose between saving the family I loved more than anything and possibly saving the human race. I sat in that car and agonized over the choice. I felt like Solomon, that king in the bible that had to choose to cut a baby in half, rather than give it to the wrong mother. I understand how he must have felt now, the guilt and doubt he must have felt as he decreed the gruesome death of that child. The only difference is that his gamble paid off, the lucky bast*rd. I look at you, what you've become and I'm not certain that I made the right choice.
Look, I'm taking her to Chicago, try and develop some sort of a cure at the center there, (If it's still there, that is). If not, then I promise to take care of Katie, carry you and our childrens memories through her, to survive until I find an end to this, one way or another. I love you, now and forever, my dear Beth. the bullet won't hurt a bit, I swear, and you can finally sleep.
Goodnight, my love, and wish me Solomons luck...