The Red Plague

Dr. Victor Salerno adjusted his glasses, his sharp eyes scanning the data on the glowing screen before him. The numbers didn’t lie. Neither did the test results.

Every sample told the same terrifying story—mutated blood cells, rapid neurological decay, and an increasing presence of an unknown pathogen that stained the samples a deep, unnatural red.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He had seen anomalies before, but nothing like this. It wasn’t a virus, at least not in the way the world understood them. It was something else, something that spread through the blood itself, twisting the mind before the body even showed symptoms.

Victor pressed a button on his desk, activating the recording software on his computer.

“Personal log, March 17th. Subject: Pathogen Sample 5C. I've run the tests three times now. The results are consistent. The infected cells show rapid degradation, but the strangest part—” He hesitated, rubbing his temples. “—is the effect on the brain. I injected the sample into a Lab rat. Within hours, they exhibited heightened aggression, disorientation, and violent tendencies. The infection isn’t killing them as I originally thought —it’s changing their behaviour. And the red pigmentation…”

A short, humorless laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He knew what this meant. Then he heard a knock at his door, he quickly pressed the sop button on the recorder and sat upright.

“Dr. Salerno?”

He recognized the voice—Dr. Emily Hayes, his colleague.

“Come in,” he called.

Emily entered holding a folder in her hands, a frown on her face. “I just got a word from the board.” She looked down sharply. “They’re rejecting the report.”

Victor blinked. “What?”

She finally looked up. “They don’t think your findings are conclusive enough. They believe the aggression in the test subjects was due to environmental stress and not the pathogen.”

Victor stood abruptly. “That’s absurd! I’ve seen the effects firsthand. I watched it happen in real-time.”

Emily looked at him, confused. “You have?”

“I-I mean through the tests.” Victor corrected quickly. “ I ’ve analyzed the data, and I can say with almost certainty that this disease is real.”

“Right,” Emily said, lowering her voice. “But they don’t want to believe it. A new bloodborne infection that alters brain function? hey think it’s an overreaction. They’ve even started calling it ‘The Red Fever’ as if it’s just some seasonal virus.”

Victor turned away, clenching his fists. “It’s not a fever. It’s a plague.”

Emily slid the folders onto his desk. “Look… I believe you. But we need more time. Harder proof.”

Victor’s stomach twisted. Time is the one thing they don’t have.

His fingers hovered over the folder before flipping it open. he skimmed through the documents stopiing at a classified file.

Case 001 – Leon Mitchell.

A sudden recollection shot to his brain, he remembered it perfectly. It was the first case he was involved in. Three months ago, a man in his late thirties suffered a sudden, violent outburst in public. Leon Mitchell kept screaming, clawing at his own skin and attacking strangers without provocation. His veins blackened and his eyes turned bloodshot.

He collapsed soon after and died.

The official report called it an extreme case of psychosis. But someone in the higher ranks knew better. Because soon after, the research facility began looking for a specialist in neurobiology and bloodborne pathogens. The opening was sudden as Dr. Reynolds, the previous lead scientist, had “unexpectedly retired.”

And that’s when Dr. Victor Salerno entered the picture.

Victor’s credentials were impeccable—Ivy League education, groundbreaking research on rare blood disorders, and extensive work in virology. On paper, he was the perfect candidate. But anyone looking deeper might find small inconsistencies.

Yet, the hiring board didn't question it. They had been looking for someone specific, and somehow, they found him.

The interview process had been brief. The questions were technical but surface-level—nothing that truly tested his expertise. It was as if the decision had already been made before he even walked in.

By the time he was officially brought into the lab, the classified file on Leon Mitchell had already been marked as “case closed.” But in reality, it was buried and he was hired in secret to continue the research. He wasn’t the only one brought in.

Dr. Emily Hayes was an accomplished biologist specializing in hematology—the study of blood. She had published groundbreaking work on bloodborne pathogens and their effects on neural activity, even receiving an award for her contributions to medical research. As accomplished as she was, Emily found it odd that Victor was the one made lead on this research.

And that had bothered her.

Their first meeting was also… strange.

Emily had walked into the lab, expecting to meet the lead scientist. Instead, she found Victor standing stiffly in the corner, wearing a pristine white coat that looked too new.

"Is this room 502" she had asked.

He turned, his movements too precise. “Yeah, it’s me homie.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Are you The Doctor Salerno?”

“Yeah, dog. Uh...what’s up?” he replied moving his hands awkwardly.

Emily blinked. Something was off about him. Is this how an accomplished doctor speaks. For a while she observed him thinking he was an imposter pretending to be a doctor but she was proven wrong when she saw firsthand his medical expertise on full display.

Victor also spoke with an odd mixture of perfect formality and forced slang, as if trying to blend in. Sometimes, he seemed too rehearsed, too controlled. Most people didn’t notice. But Emily did.

Emily was still standing there, her arms crossed. She was watching him closely, expecting some kind of reaction, but he had already composed himself.

“We need another case,” she said, repeating her earlier words.

Victor snapped away from his thoughts and focused on Emily. “ Yeah we do, sooner rather than later.”

She turned to leave, but hesitated at the door. “By the way… I was looking over your credentials.”

Victor’s spine stiffened.

Emily continued, her voice light but probing. “You went to Yale, right? Class of 2018?”

He forced a neutral expression. “That’s right.”

“I thought so.” She tilted her head slightly. “ Huh, funny thing. I have a cousin who studied there around the same time. Weird that he doesn’t remember you.”

A long silence stretched between them. Then Victor smiled, adjusting his glasses.

“Well, Yale is a big place, Dr. Hayes. I’m sure there are some people you don’t know from Harvard.”

Emily chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Victor watched as she exited, the door clicking shut behind her. He exhaled slowly.

He quickly scrolled through the database, filtering through reports from hospitals, police logs, even anonymous eyewitness accounts. He was looking for patterns—clusters of unexplained outbursts, sudden violent episodes, or bodies discarded with no cause of death.

Then, there it was.

CASE 008 – Everett Langley; 

Male; 41 years old.

Found dead in his apartment two nights ago.

Neighbours noticed erratic behaviour hours before his death.

Eyes bloodshot. Veins darkened. Skin irritation.

But it wasn’t just another random case. Everett was an EMR also known as an Emergency Medical Responder. And three months ago, he was one of the few people who came into contact with Leon Mitchell’s body. Victor theorized that maybe he got infected during that day but EMR always wear hand gloves, so his theory was flawed. But he could feel something about it was similar, he had to know more. He grabbed his coat and slid the file into his bag. If the board refused to acknowledge the truth, then he would find the proof himself.