Hypothesis - Phase 2
The materials we'd secured from Phase 2 at Blood Pack Technology were massive. After the Infection War, a staggering array of biological experiments had been conducted, complete with countless photos and videos attached.
Artemis sorted through them in an instant, stamping a huge chunk with "useless" or "low-grade."
You're an engineer, not a biologist. Sifting through every trivial experiment log is like meticulously reading a trash bin full of spam emails. Waste of time. Waste of stamina.
She buried the low-grade and below stuff deep in the city database, not wanting me to access it.
Your primitive brain has barely any capacity, and unlike me, you can't reset or isolate your memory. You can't even turn off associative recall when accessing certain visual data.
She slipped in a subtle dig there too. I'll sort it out, then you can look.
I went along with her request—which felt like it was limiting my access rights, borderline rude—without complaint because I caught the undercurrent of anxiety in her voice. The research data was probably packed with horrific stuff. A human sausage factory, no doubt.
As a battle-hardened soldier who'd seen it all, it felt like unnecessary coddling, but I didn't want to make Artemis worry over nothing.
The curated materials that remained were actually useful. Like what I was watching now.
Making a vaccine now is pointless.
The man in the video said. He was walking down a corridor, filming in selfie cam mode. The background was the Blood Pack Technology clinical trial lab we'd hit recently. At the time of filming, it was still fully operational—people bustling everywhere. Physically operational, that is. Morally? Far from it.
Over his shoulder, heavily armed soldiers stood guard. Researchers in blood-soaked scrubs passed by, along with janitors cleaning orthopedic tools with queasy expressions or hauling black body bags.
"Pouring national resources into vaccine development at this phase is a waste."
He looked late 30s, wore a white lab coat, had unkempt hair, and appeared utterly exhausted. His face was so wrecked you'd want to check his caffeine levels. The unmanaged stubble made him look even more like a burnout. He resembled Evan Lee—born psycho face.
His badge read "Senior Researcher."
"The 'phase' I just mentioned is my personal hypothesis. What it means is..."
His explanation cut off at a sudden call.
"Senior!"
A woman poked her head out from a lab room down the hall, stopping him.
"Um... excuse me, the injections! Could you please... do the injections?"
Her voice trembled with extreme fear. The senior researcher's excited face darkened instantly.
"What the hell? How long have you been here that I have to handle every little thing? Figure it out yourself!"
Veins bulged on his neck and forehead.
"Sob..."
The woman who sought help couldn't even respond and started crying.
"Fucking annoying."
Grousing, he headed her way anyway. She looked relieved despite her tears, like it was something she really dreaded.
"How many?"
"Seven."
She handed over a tray with seven syringes—euthanasia drugs, from the context.
"Damn it. They just kept piling up while I was sleeping?"
She bowed her head, silent.
"Hey, at least hold their arms up. Let's get this over with."
He grabbed the nape of her neck as she tried to hand off the tray and bolt. She wanted to flee but followed with a tearful face at his menacing glare.
"Gotta film this later."
Two soldiers guarded the lab entrance, and beyond them, people lay unconscious on operating tables.
"You bastard! Put that phone away!"
An old surgeon holding bloodied tools spotted him and yelled. The floor was awash in what could only be a lethal amount of blood.
"I'll put it away now. Don't be too harsh on the guy cleaning up after your assistant, old man."
The video ended there.
"..."
I stared at the monitor, hands steepled in a triangle on the desk, for a while.
At this point, Blood Pack Technology had been commandeered by the government for experiments. Daily progress reports were filed, mostly on vaccines. Makes sense, in hindsight.
The senior researcher filed official reports for the government but kept unofficial ones to his taste. The one I just watched was one of those.
Next video: a mere 30 seconds.
"Got interrupted, and now I'm not in the mood. Gonna take a break and make a proper one later."
Behind him, janitors were being dragged off by soldiers, one arm each.
"I'm not a spy! I just called my mom 'cause I was worried! Check my phone!"
Non-researchers weren't allowed phones in the clinical labs. He glanced back casually and shrugged.
"See you on the table soon enough."
End of video.
The third was a full-on presentation, documentary-style.
"As I said before, vaccine development has lost its meaning. Infection's damn near impossible now! Or more precisely, the mechanism's changed? Nah, not quite right either."
The screen flashed stitched clips from games, movies, comics—one second each. Mostly zombie stuff.
"When the infection first hit, our military and police handled it competently. First time or not, they were trained. Image training from media, right? Everyone knows zombies these days."
Footage of soldiers in troop trucks and armed cops blocking roads.
"Early infecteds were pushovers. Literal zombies—worse, even. No headshots needed; a few vital hits dropped 'em."
He zombie-walked with "Grraaah~," eyes rolled back, arms out—then clutched his chest and flopped. Thud! He sank into his chair back, peeked with half-lidded eyes, and grinned.
"Heard some officer yelling not to waste bullets on headshots—just shoot the chest."
Gunfire erupted as troops in a city sprayed walkers indiscriminately. Leg or arm hits didn't stop them, but heart or lung shots dropped 'em dead.
"Some mutants appeared even then, but rare, and the military could handle 'em."
Lab dissection of killed variants: acid-spitters. A researcher flashed a V-sign—our senior researcher.
"The problem was transmissibility. Insanely high. Curse of Dawn? 28 Days Later? Last of Us? Shut up."
Unlike past pandemics like COVID, medical staff were wiped out in months. Footage shifted to a joint military-police op surrounding a hospital—burning, survivors waving from the roof. Tat-tat-tang! Bullets tore into patient- and nurse-clad walkers. Plenty more like it.
"No suppression op ended with zero infections. At least one per unit—and by the time you culled him, several more were carriers."
Later footage matched the newspaper scraps I'd saved: control collapsing.
"Higher-ups hounding us for vaccines meant sleeping under three hours experimenting. Finally reached a conclusion."
He chugged a paper coffee cup and stared at the camera.
"Infection's trajectory changed. Up to now was Phase 1—mass spread and societal collapse. Now? Phase 2?"
A massive Lugnut tore a tank cannon apart. It ripped off the hatch, shoved in a muscular arm, and thrashed. Arm too thick—got stuck.
"Aaaagh!"
A soldier yanked out and torn alive. Tossed aside, infecteds swarmed and devoured. More screams as it reached in again.
A building-climbing worm-beast slithered diagonally up like a snake. Trunk-thick as a truck, shattering reinforced glass. Bamboo-like antennae smashed into the wall. Crash! Screams from inside; head plunged in.
"KyaAaAaH!"
A woman leaped from the monster's body—panic escape, too high. Splat! Over 10 stories down, she smashed on the ground. Head burst, twitching; red high heel fell a beat later. Cameraman lingered on the splat for ratings.
"Phase 2!"
Back to his lab. He held up two fingers per hand.
"Monsters started evolving. Bigger, stronger, faster, nastier! Trade-off: lower transmissibility."
Photos of variants—including the vampire sea anemone from Blood Pack's basement, raiding a ranch. Horrific scene.
"Colleagues freaked over immunity antibodies, but I think the infection just shifted strategy. Redirected energy?"
He pointed left, then right with index fingers.
"No animal, plant, bug, bacteria, or virus has all strengths. Gain one, lose another. Like limited budgets. Infection chose other traits over spread."
Helicopter footage: massive black shape speeding underwater toward a patrol ship, stadium-sized. Boom! Boom! Ship unleashed hell—no slowdown. Nearby tanker sank, sea turning black. Monster hit. KABOOOM!!! Ocean erupted in flames.
"Like nuking the world in human war, now precision strikes on survivors."
A syringe of blue liquid appeared.
"Prototype vaccine works, somewhat. But by completion? Pointless. Spread won't be the issue. Better spend resources elsewhere."
He leaned back.
"This infection screams purpose-built... like a war tool. Too perfectly tailored otherwise?"
Grrr! Wheeled forward, face in shot.
"Phase 1: insane spread for collapse. Government and military down? Mutants!"
Shook head, double-birds to the sky.
"Whoever made this—fucking masterful!"
Video ended.
"Hm."
This senior researcher's logs had unignorable intel. Overlapped Artemis's hypotheses too.
"Phase 2."
If his hypothesis held, what phase were we in now? Did it end at 2? More questions than answers.
One hour later.
Expedition ready for deployment.
The scout teams boarded their APCs (Armored Personnel Carriers), prepped to head out. Mission: tissue analysis on infecteds. After the video, I wanted direct confirmation of their current transmissibility.
Opening.
The Shelter's outer main gate swung open, sunlight flooding in.
"Senior Researcher. Let's test your hypothesis ourselves."
A line of hulking vehicles rumbled out toward the outside world.