Dr. Mors

My bloodshot eyes wearily blink at the pitch-black screen in front of me.

The weakening hum of electronics pervades my senses. Emergency fluorescents drone above like sanitized crimson candlelight. They are like me in a way, trying to survive on whatever ekes out from the facility.

Unlike me though, they don’t think. They don’t worry about getting infected, about death. They don’t live—at least not in the traditional way.

The same thing could be said about the things that roam outside.

Faint noises echo from beyond this room: bone clicking against tile, ragged breaths and growls that haunt the air. I curl up closer, shivering as a presence shambles past.

How much longer did I have?

Unlike the parts of the facility still possessing some semblance of safety, I’m stuck cowering in an office after an ill-fated supply run for the others on my floor. Facility command told us to shelter in place and wait for further instructions until the breach could be contained. However, it’d gotten exceedingly difficult to comply with that order. The main power shut down shortly after that announcement, and we started running low on food and water.

I glance over to the status clock to check exactly how long I’ve been alone—how long it’d been since my blunder.

April 20, 4:44 AM - [Facility: GAMMA. Status: LOCKDOWN]

“…” I see. A week of isolation. I shiver at the thought and implication.

It’s only a matter of time.

Every passing minute my body teeters toward the unknown, patiently waiting for me to slip past that point of no return.

But what else can I do other than idle and hope for a miracle? Near certain death awaits me on the other side of that door. If monsters don’t tear me apart the moment I open it, infection would surely worm its way into my body. My PPE had been damaged in my scramble to relative safety, and I had little faith in its protection from the pathogen’s effects: mutations, organ failure, psychosis, altered mental state, and others before a prolonged and painful end.

I let out a shuddered breath, imagining joining the unknown, then tap a few things into the workstation’s keyboard hoping for something to distract myself—anything to get my mind off of this nightmare.

Unfortunately, just like all the times before, nothing responds. It remains completely devoid of life.

Exasperation takes hold of me.

Are the others even alive at this point? Or am I truly alone?

I ask myself that question several times before the speakers in front of me flicker to life.

“Is someone there…?” a disjointed voice hesitantly asks.

My heart trembles as it registers. Someone else finally noticed me?! The screen remains dead, but I huddle closer to the speakers and turn down the volume.

“Y-yes, this is Dr. Mors speaking,” I whisper with as much restraint as I can manage. “Are you with the security team? What’s the status of the facility? Please, I got stuck, and I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

The voice on the other side goes silent, static crackling over their audio and a few muffled thuds.

“Hello?” I prompt again, worry choking my plea.

Once again, nothing but silence. Only faint taps and scratches break the stillness. I start to worry until they suddenly lean closer.

“Sorry, it’s… complicated. Long story short though, I’m not security. I’m uh, Harry, the guy who handles the rodent experiments. Dr. Spes’ new assistant if that rings more of a bell.”

I’ve never heard of Harry before, but Dr. Spes? That’s a familiar name. We’d always chat in the cafeteria during our meal breaks. He’s in charge of the Live Inoculation Research division on the lower levels, the most understaffed given its risk and location. Not many would willingly lock themselves in with infected monsters—especially in the least funded of three facilities—but there isn’t much choice if we’re to ever find a cure for this nightmare pathogen.

“Wish we’d met in better circumstances. Are you alright, Harry? What about the Doctor and the rest of Inoculation?”

I know it’s rather foolish to ask considering where the initial breach happened. However, if Harry is alive, then that means there may still be hope—

“I could be better. The others though…? They’re done for. And not just me, but everyone on your floor and below.”

I swallow heavily.

“They’re infected? All of them?”

“Yeah. Everyone on the lower floors are insane, dead, or missing. Aside from you, I’m the only one left, crammed into a transport closet by the wing’s airlock.”

Dread spreads through me, chilling my very core. Facility Gamma has hundreds of staff, and the lower floors are easily half of that.

“Anyway, I have something urgent,” Harry continues, voice crackling as a few taps echo in the background. “Dr. Spes wanted me and a few others to run for the lift. I… need your help with that. I’m stuck.”

My gut stirs at his plea. He sounds so off for some reason, almost broken—as if barely clinging to sanity.

“I would love to, but I’m not in a position to help. Have you tried making contact with the security team? What about anyone else? Surely there must be at least someone aside from me.”

Silence and a few clicks, before a hushed response.

“Security didn’t respond, no one did on your floor. You’re my only hope, Dr. Mors.”

“But—”

“Please. I beg of you. This is extremely important; I don’t even need to leave the lower levels myself. We… we made a breakthrough before the breach. Found a way to reverse the infection’s symptoms. All of it. That’s what I need to transport.”

My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “You can’t possibly mean that you found a—!”

Claws suddenly screech against metal.

I immediately bite my tongue and flip the deafen switch. Something’s against my room’s door now, and my pulse races with every crack and groan. I desperately pray I haven't doomed myself.

‘It’s only a matter of time’ echoes over and over in my head.

A minute passes.

Then another.

Five minutes later and I think the presence is moving away. The hallway trembles less with each shake until once again, only the sickly hum of electronics remains.

I let myself breathe once I’m certain it’s gone, then cautiously switch the speaker back to life.

“Harry, are you still there…? Are you saying you have a cure? Absolutely certain?”

The air is dead until another faint click.

“Yes, which is why I need your help… if we work together, we might be able to save everyone left. And not just the facility, but the rest of the world. Are you in? To prevent this madness from spreading?”

Cold sweat drips from my forehead. Every breath is shallow, every heartbeat deafening. I have an idea what my ‘help’ entails, but if it’s for everyone's sake, there’s only one option to choose.

I put my trust in him.

“Alright… What do you need me to do?”

***

I hold my breath and skulk down the hall, careful not to make any sound. Duct tape and caution are the only protection between me and oblivion now—no steel doors to shield me.

A sign illuminated in red points toward several directions: the residential wing to the west, the lift to the east, and my hopeful destination to the south: security.

I keep close to the wall and follow the emergency lights. To think that the infection had spread this far into the facility is gut wrenching. This is nothing like from before I’d made my run. The floor is littered with debris, viscera, and sticky substances that I dare not identify. I am almost certain that the stench would overwhelm me if I dare perceive it.

All I can do is keep my eyes forward and feet steady.

Each step takes me closer to safety and hopeful salvation. Yet my courage dwindles with every creeping gnaw the dark takes.

I silently wonder if this’ll be enough.

All I need to do is manually override the lockdown on the pneumatic transport system—tubes no larger than a rodent. From there Harry can transport the cure to the synthesis department on the upper levels. Apparently there’s someone there that could use the facilities to replicate the cure.

I just wish that I hadn’t been the only one left that could do this. Aside from the dread I felt being the only uninfected person on this floor, I’m only a senior researcher with a sedentary lifestyle, not a member of the security team or one of my more energetic juniors—

My movements freeze as I suddenly hear the moan of something up ahead.

I’m not sure what it is, other than definitely not friendly—possibly one of the infected that’d gotten loose in the breech. It stands hunched in front of the security wing’s door like a demon from the lake of fire. Spindly limbs clack against the wall, hardened growths dot its body, and a toothy maw the size of my head gapes with every breath.

It takes all the control I have to not immediately flee—go anywhere but here—but I somehow manage to keep my feet planted on the ground as I look for an opening.

At least until I notice its face crane in my direction and slowly tilt to the side.

A hollow voice reverberates from its mouth, broken yet painfully coherent.

“…Dr. Mors? You’re finally back…?”

My heart stops as it starts an approach, likely sizing me up in the red glow of the hall.

Then, just as quickly, it lurches forward with speed I know I cannot match.

Adrenaline and terror surges alongside rapid thoughts—did that thing just speak, and why did it sound so familiar?!

With all the strength I can muster, I run.

I barely duck to the side as it barrels past me, jagged bones tearing pain somewhere along my arm. I don’t have time to process it though—I desperately scramble up and for the door, half-closed in a permanent stall.

There’s just enough space where I could fit through and hopefully not enough for the pursuing thing behind me, rediverting its mass violently around in the cramped confines of the hall and protesting my escape.

Thuds and an unworldly chorus fill the air as the world blurs around me. Every breath is fire. Every heartbeat a drum. Every shadow, a threat that could consume me until nothing’s left.

I duck through the entry, quickly slamming the manual override to shut it. The hall behind it echoes, immediately followed by frustrated scratches and wails.

“…why are you running, Dr. Mors…?” a haunted voice moans from everywhere all at once.

I do my best to ignore the thrum and keep moving, following the crimson lights past several rooms. Sounds spring to life as if a hive had been awakened, but I ignore that too as I duck into the control room, close the door, then look around for the override.

I see it illuminated in red and push it without a second thought. Something in the facility clicks, as if salvation were finally unlocked.

My entire body trembles despite my success and the supposed sanctuary of the control room.

With a shuddered breath, I collapse to the floor, cold embracing me as darkness creeps through the corners of my eyes.

I silently palm the open wound that’d torn through fabric and skin. Pain wells in my gut, and I feel something shifting—changing.

As I lay there, bones shifting, sinews tearing, and blood reshaping my soul, I find sole comfort in the good I’d wrought.

It’s only a matter of time.