The Surviving Son (Valkyrie Book 2) (6 page)

“Deep into that darkness, peering, long I
stood there, wondering,
fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream
before.”

Those age-old words of Poe run rampant through my mind as
Eeamon leads us out of town and into the wild with Garrison’s rifle
held firmly in his youthful hands. After all the horrors throughout
all the years, what I witnessed yesterday was the dream for which
the poet spoke of. An event that mankind could never conceive, even
within an unconceivable world. And so we march on, deep into that
darkness, fearing the dreams that every mortal dreads to dream
again.

Steph is still lost, in shock, a dark depression looming over her
gentle figure like a furious storm. She shuffles her feet, eyes upon
the ground and her shoulders slumped down in defeat. Nothing I’ve
said has swayed her presence, and she fears not only for the outcome
of this mission, but what will become of her. Even if she survives,
she knows that the Children of Rangeley will take claim of her. That
is, unless I can find a way to escape our adolescent guard.

We walked from sunrise to sunset with no rest stops, and
absolutely no conversation from our guide. A dense forest with only
the chitter-chatter of woodland creatures to listen to. We reached the
Appalachia trail by midday, and setup camp up on Crocker
Mountain, in the morning we will make way for Stratton, and
onward towards our destination. As the dark of night descended
upon us I couldn’t help but think how close I was to the path both
Mia and The Survivor had taken on their journey to Fort Rockland,
and it is quite possible that they had set up camp at this very same
spot.

“You come from beyond the trees?” Eeamon asked, breaking the
endless silence just before midnight, as both of us could not sleep.
Steph on the other hand had succumb to the arduous hike and her
draining emotions, and snored sweetly as her head rested upon my
lap.

“Yes. Originally
from Chester Pennsylvania.” I answered.
“You rode in the flying box?”
“The Helicopter.” I corrected. “Was it your people who shot us

down
?”
“No. But I watched it. The men of leaves threw smoke at this –
HellCopper.” He stated.
“Men of leaves?” I asked.
“They hide among the bushes, carry weapons just like your
people.”
“Camouflage? Soldiers?”
“They kill our boys. Defile our girls. They are demons like the
ones with no thought.”
“There are many demons in the world.”
“Was there demons before the darkening?” He asked.
“More than ever.”
“Then why you want to fix it?” He asked with concern.
“I don’t want the world to be what it was. I want it to become
something better. That cannot happen until we defeat the disease.”
“Mirai says you are our savior.”
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I think you should have joined your friends.” He said coldly.
“Then I am glad you’re not the one in charge.”
He did not respond, his eyes stared blankly in the camp-fire, his
mind lost within its own simplicity. He made it clear, if he had the
choice, he would dispatch me in my sleep. I knew then that
continuing on with him would hinder the success of the mission. But
it would not be possible to lose him, he is a tracker and would find
us in no time. Killing him too was far from my mind, killing a child,
no – I do not believe he falls within the guidelines of Evolutionary
Cleansing. Yet, whose responsibility is it to create these rules, who
should be in charge of enforcing them, and would there be any
repercussions for wrongful execution. No, there has to be a better
option, he is not a mind gone mad, just – misled.
“Tell me, Eeamon, do you have a girl back home?”
“Girl?”
“A wife, girlfriend, lover?” I queried, hoping to pull at his
emotions.
“I am forbidden from breeding.” He answered solemnly.
“Forbidden? Why?”
“They call me a bastard.”
“A bastard?” I said. “Aren’t you all?”
“No, I am the only son of Mr. Davis.” He said and it dawned on
me, like a punch to the chest. “Only a son carries a father’s blood.
Daughters carry the mothers.” He paused. “For a doctor you do not
know much.” I held back my amusement.
“You could leave. Find a colony and make a life there, find a
girl.” I mentioned.
“I will not betray my people.” He said as he shuffled down into
the dirt to rest. “In fourteen moons, my blood will be part of our
land. Forever, I will protect my people.”
The thought that this boy knew the exact time of his death, even
when he has barely lived, was a tragedy in on itself. Although he
aims to end me, I cannot help but feel sorry for him. So devoted to
a people who are willing to execute him simple because of his
bloodline. It amazes me that even after the world fell, mankind still
relies on a fabricated belief in order to move on. I too am guilty of
this. Why we find comfort in an unseen higher power is something
I will never understand. Why can we not be happy to just be?

A town ravaged by flames, charred and fallen, and beneath the
rubble a fire still smolders as wisps of black smoke escape through
a maze of wood, steel and concrete. By the aged sight of the surface
I would assume Stratton burned no more than a month or two ago,
and such complete and strategic destruction could have only been
produce by man. The demons of our lost world.

What structures still standing were pot-marked with bullet holes,
craters of varying sizes dotted the landscape, and abandoned fox
holes and make-shift bunkers remained to tell a tale of a lost battle.
But whose forces? This is the first operation by the GFS in the area,
and aside from Raiders there have been no reports of any other
military forces still active. I assume that Stratton had become a home
base for there were no bodies left to rot. Whomever held position
here had planned to stay, and cleaned up the devastation that had
ensued.

Eeamon again leads the way in silence, no longer curious of me
or of my mission, paying no mind to the destruction around us. But,
deep in his eyes, I can still see the hatred fueled by others before
him. My attempts to reach him, to show him that I am not his enemy,
have failed. The brainwashing of belief was rooted deeply in him,
and there will be no turning back, no acceptance of reality. I think
back on EC, but it not the way, not for him.

As we neared the outskirts of town I noticed eerie dark shadows
swirly about like leaves upon the fragmented pavement at our feet.
The source soared high above us, a dozen or more turkey vultures.
Their gliding presence was once a signal of carrion ahead, but these
days it is the devil’s warning that Necrotic’s are close by. Eeamon
was quite aware of their presence, guarded, and his hawk like gaze
scanning the road ahead of us. Steph, still despondent, shuffled
slowly behind us, unaware of the scavengers above.

We followed old route twenty seven out of town and through the
winding pass of Flagstaff Lake, a man made body of water that was
once hailed as being haunted. Flagstaff Village lay beneath the
surface in the name of progress of the twentieth century, and its
former settlers are said to wander the marshy landscape in anger of
their lost homes and livelihoods. However, the damn that once held
back the pressure of the lake had succumb to age, it’s concrete walls
and iron gates crumbled away some time ago.

The water levels had fallen drastically since, leaving behind the
peaks of decaying homes and vast stretches of muck. The Infected
had wandered to far from the beaten path, and before us was a horde
swamped to their wastes in the thick decay of nature, their rotting
stench overpowering that of the sludge that binds them. Their
presence alone has altered the pristine landscape, casting a devilish
scene as if the residence of Flagstaff were slowly rising up from their
watery graves.

“Demons.” Eeamon said, pointing out over the lake.
“We should put them out of their misery, Eeamon.”
“No threat. Let them rot.” He muttered.
“But what of the people they once were?” Iasked. “What if some

of them were your people? Why let them suffer?”
Eeamon turned back towards me, anger in his eyes.
“Them Demons, not people.” He scowled. “You should know

His misunderstanding of the Infected weighed heavily upon my
heart, if only he knew. Being sheltered from the rest of society as
left him clueless to many things, including the importance of our
past. The importance of our ancestors. It has become our nature,
everyone within the GFS, to not allow our loved ones to remain
trapped within a decaying prison. Every turned soul encountered,
threat or not, shall be shown compassion and mercy.

It wasn’t
long after the fall, maybe only six months, when I
began to unlock just a few of the secrets that Valkyrie refused to
tell. She is an entity of many facets; a conqueror and a captor. She
has bound every woman, man and child into a world of darkness
and fear. She is the devil’s maiden, inflicting his evil and torture
upon the world.

It was around this time that coined her identification as SPV, a
Sentient Parasitic Virus, and the direst of those terms was and is
Sentient. In a simple test, I introduced three individual cells of
Valkyrie into a solution riddled with paramecium, and the outcome
was astonishing. Gazing through the microscope I watched, at first,
there was no reaction. But then, within minutes, the flicker began.

The flicker was a faint luminescence, almost purple in color that
pulsed out from within Valkyries nucleus. One cell released a single
minuscule flash, and another responded with two more. Then, as if
rising from a muddled fog, there was a disco of lights as each cell
began to pulsate rapidly and with purpose. And then, as if a general
sounded off the charge, the cells began to move, slithering around
like a pack of wolves.

The three of them quarantined a single protozoa, circling and
cutting it off from the rest. Once secured, they attacked, the three
lunging forward and striking their prey fiercely. Of course, being
microorganisms, it was a less than brutal assault, but intriguing none
the less. As they came in contact with the outer walls of the harmless
cell I noticed tiny, almost nonexistent nematocysts puncture the cell
membrane. Like tiny harpoons, similar to that of a jellyfish sting.

As thousands of these tendrils entered the cell they began to
extract cytoplasm, as food I presumed, but also injected a cloudy
toxin that I have yet been able to sample. The toxin spread through
the protozoa quickly, targeting the nucleus before all else. Then,
within seconds, the SPV cells moved off as the paramecium slowed
and darkened like a ripened banana. Lastly, as Valkyrie sought out
more prey to hunt, the first victim lit up. The same purplish hue
pulsed fervently, and before I could make sense of it, the organism
joined in on the hunt. Full assimilation was complete, the ‘HOW’s’
and ‘WHY’s’ will always be a mystery.

In another test, I introduced a polio virus to the brine, only to find
that SPV avoided it at all costs. It was obvious that they recognized
the threat, and with self-preservation moved with calculation away
from it. This was my proof that on some scale Valkyrie had a mind
of its own. In this same test, I injected a living polio cell into SPV
and found that it did neutralize the villain quite rapidly. However,
on a larger scale I found it to be ineffective as a cure or vaccine, for
the Polio killed both Valkyrie and the patient.

And so I moved on, attempting to find other weakness that may
assist in the defeat of this vile beast. There were many promising
scenarios on a cellular level, but once again they became useless
when treating an infected lifeform. I lost many test subjects during
these trials, from infected primates, to the infected humans rounded
up before the facilities evacuation. And with each failure, the world
fell deeper into this pit of despair.

One day, as I sat before my computer and watched the security
feed from above, on the streets of Fort Detrick, I contemplated
leaving my secured fortress just for one last breath of fresh air. A
never-ending rain battered the sun-beaten pavement, and although
the video was a depressing black & white, I could still see the steam
rising from the blacktop. I had spent many hours watching the
outside world decay, but on this day, the decay was also watching
me back.

There was life on the screen that had been all but vacant for
months. But excitement faded when I focused on the figure to be
nothing more than the wayward form of a Necrotic, wandering
aimlessly in front of the lobby doors twelve stories above. Just
another lost soul condemned to a life of mindless horror, and
although this being was a true monster from hell, there was
familiarity that could not be explained.

In a state of dreary curiosity, I rode the turbo elevator to the
surface, swaying rhythmically to the depressing music that still
played over the speakers. My mind wandered, but not on anything
specific, just quick thoughts of past, present and future. Mere
question that would never be answered, except by my own
imagination. It wasn’t until the loud and heart stopping ding of the
elevator that my mind rushed back into reality. The door slid open
effortlessly revealing dim and utterly empty lobby. Silent and eerie
in its own rights. Across from the elevator were the large and
shatterproof lobby windows, a crystalline portal out into the parking
lot of Fort Detrick. The front door in the center of them was secured
with two iron bars that could only be retracted by the proper
authorization code, for which as far as I knew, I was the only person
alive whom possessed it.

The infliction I had witnessed on the security channel still stood
before the glass panes, gazing in as if looking for something, or
someone. However, now that familiarity that caught my curiosity
came to full realization. It was the first time in so long that I had
actually felt my heart, to know that it still existed in the depths of
my own mortal prison. For a moment, I began to cry as I stared into
the empty eyes of Melissa, my own daughter – yet it wasn’t her, not
anymore.

For so long I wondered what had become of her. Did she find
safe harbor? Did she fall victim to Valkyrie, or to the cruelty of man?
But it was on this slow and rainy day that I received my answer.
However my emotional tangent was soon dismissed as I realized the
absurdity of the event. My daughter should be thousands of miles
away, the thought of her wandering for such a long time, through
such distances, was mind boggling. And once again, even above all
of my raging emotions, curiosity was enticed.

Time began to race as I rushed back into my lab for a leash-collar,
one still soiled by many of the test-subjects to be restrained within
its grasp. Time slowed down once again when I returned to the lobby
and struggled to coax in my child and secure her. The elevator trip
back down seemed the longest and most frightening. My beautiful
daughter, my beautiful monster, thrashing and snarling at me in an
evil hatred, only to be kept at bay by a measly three foot pole. And
although my heart pounded heavily in fear, there was also an inkling
of guilt as I stared into her misty eyes, guilt of not being there for
her in the beginning, for not leaving my station to rescue her. And I
longed to hold her in my arms just one last time.

I never said a word to her, not even after I secured her to an
examination chair within containment chamber B. I had no plans for
her, no reason for bringing her down here except for my own
personal emotional selfishness. As she struggled to free herself from
the restraints, I gently began to wash her face with a warm cloth,
lovingly caressing the same cheek, in the same fashion, that I did
when she was just a child. The tears welled up in my eyes, but I
fought them back, a parental instinct to show strength for the
confidence of one’s young.

After I washed her hair, revealing her beautiful brown strands, I
began to fumble through her pockets, in search for clues. Did she
mindlessly wander all the way from Chicago to here? Impossible.
Yet, by the state of her condition, it was apparent she had turned no
more than a month ago. Her skin, although gray with black spider
veins throughout, was pristine with no signs of decay. And the only
evidence of her journey was a single poker chip, twenty dollars, with
the insignia of the Horseshoe Casino in Baltimore, barley visible
beneath a thin coat of dried blood.

She must have sought me out after everything went to hell,
ending up in Baltimore and most likely taking refuge at the casino.
It is there that she must have contracted the virus, turning from my
little princess into the monster now before me. But it still did not
explain how or why she ended up here. It had to be fifty miles at
least, and with no true purpose for making the journey, there had to
be other factors that drove her there. Something guided this former
shell of my beautiful daughter.

Carefully I gave her a kiss on the forehead as she struggled to
bite.
“It’s okay, Melissa, daddy is with you.” I said before leaving the
room in distraught to seek out a bottle of gin I had stashed away in
my desk.

I spent the next two days avoiding her, drinking away my sorrow
as she sat in her restraints alone and decaying. When I sobered up I
had an epiphany, after all my research, there was more to discover.
My daughter, the love of my life, may hold the answers too many
questions. Seeking them, however, would become the most painful
experience of my entire life, pain that I still feel to this day.

When I returned to the containment chamber I found my darling
girl saturated in her own putrid fecal matter. Black as the night and
writhing with Valkyrie spores. Adorn in a hazmat suit I began the
long and gruesome process of cleansing the chamber, being sure to
incinerate anything that came into contact with the thick sludge. The
whole while, Melissa thrashed against her binds, snarling like the
beast from hell that she was.

Although the sight of her in this condition breaks my heart, I feel
that it is my duty to her and mankind to learn as much as possible.
The generous heart that beats in her chest would volunteer in an
instant for this, to sacrifice itself for others. But I still prayed that
somewhere in my child’s biology are the answers that I need. Most
importantly, how the virus infects and controls the brain, and what
human aspect of the brain is still there, if any.

Previous MRI’s taken on other test subjects haveshow
n that most
of the mind is dark and dormant until exposed to stimulation. The
sight of living flesh for instance will cause the hypothalamus, the
hunger center of the brain, to light up like a burning Christmas tree.
It is the driving force behind the infection, and there is nothing that
can smother that burn.

For my first test, I fell back on an age old experiment which
revolved around recognition. Although I was unable to use myself
for this, knowing the results would be inconclusive, so I opted for
the mirror test. My hope was to witness behavior that would
conclude some sort of self-recognition, however my darling girl
ignored her reflection and focused in on the two-way mirror that I
hid behind. It was not the results I had hoped for, but did prove that
the virus was able to enhance the body’s senses. Whether it was
smell or sound that caught her attention, I’m not sure, but she knew
exactly where I was.

After that I knew it would take internal testing to get the answers
I required, an act that crushed my heart. I began the process by
injecting a sedative into my girl’s veins, although it did not
completely calm her rage, it did however calm those hungry urges.
With her head secured tightly to the operating chair I prepared for
my next test, a detailed mapping of her brain functions.

Carefully I shaved away her once beautiful hair, revealing the
scalp and my point of entry. It seemed like hours, but only mere
minutes, as I held the buzzing cranial saw an inch from the back of
her head. A force repelled my blade, like identical poles of two
magnets pushing each other away. But this was not some unseen
supernatural force, but the power of guilt, love, and compassion that
prevented me from proceeded.

After a few deep breaths, I repeated to myself, ‘It’s
only a
medical training cadaver. I do not know this person.’ Which helped
a little, but the sight of her blood and sound of steel against flesh and
bone churned my stomach and its contents. But I endured the
sickening mutilation of my daughter, slowly working around her
cranium until it came to a full circle. And with a clammy release of
suction, the skull cap popped off, revealing everything that made up
my precious little girl. It was a gateway into what made my daughter
who she was, and I was oddly infatuated with it. The blackened
veins that spiders across the ridges and valleys, the darkened gray
mass, it was beauty trapped within a layer of evil.

Gently I laid a neural-mesh across the surface, like a paper-thin
circuit board with numerous plugs, for which I quickly began
attaching an assortment of cables to. Instantly the computer began
mapping the brain with each connection, and as expected, most of
her was dark, these rest simply dim from the sedatives. The
hypothalamus, however, still glowed with fiery.

Careful and precise I strategically inserted electrical-probes into
various dormant areas of the brain, ensuring that every neuron was
accounted for, and barbarically turning my princess into a medical
pin-cushion. With each puncture my heart leaped into my throat, and
there were moments that I felt I would lose all control and break
down into an emotional wreck. But, I persevered, completing all the
connections and readied for the next step.

Slowly and one by one I flipped the switch on each probe and
increased the current while watching the monitor for any changes,
and surprisingly there were. One by one the different parts of the
brain began to light up, connections were remade, and the nervous
system rebooted itself. For a brief moment I had forgotten this was
my daughter before me and stood in amazement that the remarkable
organ still maintained the connections with every minuscule neuron.

The raspy but recognizable voice sent shivers down my spine and
for a moment my heart stopped. My body turned to ice as every
emotion in my soul exploded with such force that my knees almost
buckled. But I quickly regained myself, concluding that I had
sparked memory and speech during this process, and with a deep
breath I continued to scan the monitor for more information.