Induction

With the drill bit replaced, Nick once again guided it down through the hole. The sound reminded him of childhood visits to the dentist as it bored through rock. He shuddered at the memory of cavities being filled and swore he felt a tingle in his mouth every time the whirling rotor struck some new obstacle in its path. After only a few minutes, the deep rumbling was again replaced with the whining of nothingness. Annoyed, Nick began the process of removing the tool from the deep hole to check for damage. As the head was backed out, a pocket of gas escaped through the newly created opening, and a loud whoosh sounded as it traveled to the surface.

A dense cloud of yellow vapor escaped, engulfing the closest men in a thick fog. Nick collapsed, clutching and scratching at his throat while the offending vapor suffocated him. As fast as it materialized, it began to dissipate in a swirling mist and evaporated into the air. The aftermath left him disoriented on the sunbaked dirt. Fresh air flooded back into his lungs. He began to cough, creating little clouds of dust that stung his eyes and felt gritty on his teeth as he licked his lips. There was a pounding in his head that beat in time with his heart. When he opened his eyes, a stab of pain bore into his pupils as the light danced on his corneas like glittering fairies from Hell. Slowly shaking his head as if to clear water from his ears, Nick found his three teammates to be in a similar state of pain and confusion.

The men half-stumbled, half-crawled to the respite of the tree and sat with their backs against the trunk. Each of them held their head in their hands in a futile attempt to quell the pounding headache, and they took turns letting out quiet moans of suffering lest the unwelcome noise of their voices amplify the pain.

The nosy neighbor watched from the front lawn, yelling into a phone with a shrill voice that pierced Nick’s ears. Sirens sounded in the distance.

As the throbbing intensified with the increasing wail of sirens, Nick stumbled to his truck. Behind the wheel, his vision swam and his earlier coffee threatened to heave forth from his belly and spray the windshield. Turning his head caused a spinning feeling as if the earth were shifting uncontrollably on its axis. He started the truck and drove. It was not without great effort that he slowed to a stop in front of his apartment complex. Forgetting to put the gear shift into park, he fell from the cab. The truck continued to slowly creep forward toward the building. Motionless on the pavement, his last sight—before the spastic seizing overtook him—were the big yellow arches of the neighboring McDonald’s.

What awoke shortly after was no longer Nick. Its gray pallid skin was lined with spidery blue veins. Its eyes were an opaque milky-white with red broken blood vessels streaming from the pupils like exploded fireworks. It had no memories, no feelings. The only thing it knew was hunger: a primitive, visceral urge to feed. The thing, formerly known as Nick Michaels, climbed stiffly to its feet and lumbered clumsily toward the scent of food.

Ignored was the smell of french fries, replaced by the sweet bouquet of living flesh. Once again gazing at the golden arches with unfocused eyes, the abomination made its way to the drive-thru window for some fast food. Instead of ordering at the lit sign, its gaze fixed upon the shape of an elderly woman behind the open window of a car, and it leaned in to feed.

Chapter 01 Code Brown

“Code brown in room 204.” Our nurse preceptor sped out of the nurses’ station and down the hall.

“Oh, my God. What’s a code brown?” Ollie asked me. Her eyes grew wide and sparkled with curiosity. Olivia, Ollie for short, was my five-foot nothing sidekick and one of my best friends. We always seemed to get into trouble when paired together.

“No clue but it sounds awesome, and maybe we’ll get to do something cool.” With that, we headed down the hall in fast pursuit of the nurse.

St. Vincent’s Hospital was one of four hospitals in Lee County. All owned by the same parent company; St. Vincent’s was the newest facility and more technologically advanced than the others. Electronic key cards worn on the chest of each employee housed microchips, and when entering a patient’s room, the name, title, and area of specialty of the staff member, along with their employee photo, was displayed on the television.

Outside each room was a workstation with a computer terminal. I set my clipboard on a shelf before entering room 204 and squirted my hands with the alcohol-based hand soap mounted outside the door. I got three steps into the room and abruptly skidded to a halt. Ollie had been following on my heels and bounced off my back. A room full of nurses and students looked up at us and panic set in. There was no way to slink back out of the room unnoticed.