Excerpt: Metamorphosis Point

Metamorphosis Point
David Silver

The room was a fury of activity. Shouts and reports flew like demons from one corner to the other as terminals flashed with Epilepsy inducing intensity. Hanging above the manic gathering was a sign of cheap white paper. It read, "Prometheus Project -- Success!"
At the center of the storm was a female. Dressed in a long lab coat that hung to her knees, her hands were the orchestra baton that led the berserk proceedings. She didn't look happy about the situation, but her words were practically lost in the overwhelming noise of shouting, sirens, and the glaring flashing red lights swirling overhead.
On the far wall was a map of the United States. Most of it was green, but this was rapidly changing. Erratically increasing areas of red were spreading like circles drawn by a four year olds. The display was simply labeled "Infection".
The deafening bark of a well oiled assault rifle brought a sudden silence of those within the room. A scientist laid bleeding on the ground, stopped mid panic by the life threatening wound. His allies both looked to him, and the source. A man stood at the entry way, flanked on either side by two other men in fatigues. The military had arrived.
"Now that I have your attention," announced the man with the General's tags, "I need to speak with whomever is in charge, now."
The woman stepped forward with a frown, pinching at the bridge of her nose, "A pleasure, General Solder, but you know who I am and that I am in charge here."
"Are you now?" questioned the man. He looked to be in his late sixties, with lightly greying hair kept in a buzz cut under his hat. He held himself stiff and erect, regarding the woman with a doubtful expression. "If you are in charge, then how is this happening?"
"This," she said, waving at the map, "Is what we are trying to handle, which is not helped by having our lead biochemist shot. Have your men stand watch outside if they must, and take their guns along with them."
Solder raised a brow, "You're in no position to make demands. I want a status report. How bad is this going to be?"
"They won't work with your blasted rifles aimed at them, take them outside."
While the two argued, the shot man was assisted by his coworkers. Fortunately, immediate medical help was one of the perks of working with a population that was over 90% in PHDs, many including medical degrees. The tension had grown, but the movement had all but died, with everyone looking at the arguing couple instead of the screens that were trying desperately to draw attention.
General Solder stared at the woman for several thick moments before he nodded, "If it will get an answer faster. Wait outside," The last part directed at his men, who saluted and retreated just outside the door, ready to return at a moment's notice.
"Now, answers. You swore to me, Paula, that the virus wouldn't do anything it wasn't explicitly programmed to do."
Paula frowned, taking off her glasses. Her long brown hair swayed as she threw her head to the side, slipping the eyewear into a pocket. "The virus is still loyally adhering to its programming. It's the carriers of the strains that are behaving erratically. Your men should be out there looking for them, instead of shooting the few people that understand what's going on."
Solder's right hand balled into a fist, "Report on the field says the infection is spreading from host to host agressively, using every vector I've ever heard of, including a host of new ones. When did these experiments expand to cover so many strains of virus?"
Paula lifted her shoulders, "It didn't. The Prometheus Strain is designed to accept a template and apply it to a host organism, encouraging a macro change via micro engineering on the genetic level, including the molecular assembly of new materials from sorrounding matter."
He waved a hand at her, "Don't get technical on me. Just tell me how to stop it. We have reports coming in from everywhere at once. Tell me you have a cure. Tell me you have an emergency plan."
The room began to move again. A scientist reached for a ringing phone and nodded into it, sharing only a few words before he looked up, "Johnsonville office is calling in, Ms. Timble."
Paula held up a hand towards Solder before retreating from the general to snatch the phone away from the scientist, whom scurried away to find another ringing object to console.
Clutching the phone, she said, "Paula speaking, this better be good news."
A calm male voice spoke from the other end, "Do I deliver any other kind? The headquarters are secured. Innoculations are being distributed. Recovery teams are on the ground looking for the best cases."
The phone was yanked from her hand by a furious looking Solder, "This is General Solder speaking. State your name and business immediately."
There was some hesitation before the voice came back, "Solder? Checking in on your wife again, sir? That's charming," it said with a snide undertone, "Put Paula back on the line."
"This is no time for you to be giving orders. The country is under attack, and if I don't start getting answers right now, we will be forced to assume you are part of it. I will not stand idly by as My America is torn down around me."
"Look, General, we're doing what we can. If you want my advice, you'll grab Paula, and anyone else you can fit in the closest helicopter you can find, and zip over to Johnsonville ASAP."
The line went dead with a click of a phone being set back on its receiver.
General Solder slammed the phone back on its cradle and glared at Paula, "We're leaving, now. Take two of your brightest, and whatever supplies you need to work out of Johnsonville. Meet me on the roof in five minutes." He turned to depart, marching off even as Paula throw up her middle finger in exasperated defiance.
"The hell was I thinking when I took that ring," she muttered to herself as she looked over the room, "OK people, back to work," she shouted, clapping her hands and freeing the scientists from their paralysis like a wizard breaking a spell.
As the room began to speed up, she looked around for two of her best. An intern approached her with a clipboard, "Maam?"
"Just call me Paula. Had enough officiousness to last the year."
"Paula then. I have a report of mass disruption over the internet backbone. It doesn't seem to be... directly.. caused by the virus, how could it? But the timing..."
Paula furrowed her brown in a deep frown, "Are we talking a bit of lag or something more severe?"
"I mean," says the scientist, glancing at his clipboard, "The Internet just died. Ping timeouts to anything outside the intranet, total failure. What little we saw moments before said the phone system is probably already down after it. Communications are severed for anything but radio."
"How many know about this?" asks Paula, leaning forward a little.
"Um, just me. Though I can't imagine they won't figure it out in a few minutes."
Paula reached to grab the man by the shoulder, "You're coming with me. Tom!" She waved her free hand to a tall dark skinned man near the back of the room. He looked up instantly and soon the three broke free into the hallway.
"What's up hon?" asked Tom.
"We're headed to HQ in JV. We have to make to the roof, now. I don't think we have time for anything else." There was just a hint of growing concern in her voice.
The scientist looked flustered, "JV?" but his question was ignored, guided towards the elevator by Tom.
"When Paula says to go, we go," said Tom in a helpful tone, "And this isn't the time to ask questions unless it's really important." He jammed his thumb into the up arrow a few times impatiently.
Paula was nowhere to be seen, apparently having gone a different way. As they waited for the elevator car to arrive, the man looked at Tom nervously, "Uh, name's Wayne. We don't work the same department... I've..."
Tom held up a hand, "Nice to meet you Wayne. Tom. Now think on this. General's angry, real angry. Our virus' radioactive tracer is spread over the country, implying it's spreading around, though no report has come in yet of the consequences." He leans close, "And we both work here, at the source. Think on that."
Wayne, a man in his early twenties, caucasion, with a lanky build and glasses, looked quite frightened as he considered the situation. The intended effect was had as Wayne became quiet. Seconds became a minute, and Tom glanced at his watch, "It's tak..." His sentence was cut off with the soft ding of the arrival of the car.
The doors slid open and a multitude of arms shot out. One grabbed Wayne by the sleeve even as the man gave a most un masculine shriek. Claws sank into his flesh through the thin cloth, then teeth. Tom gave a curse as he hopped back just in time for four beasts to fall on Wayne.
Tom drew a pistol from his belt line and with six quick shots, blood was sprayed across the elevator and sorrounding hallway. Inhuman howls of pain, like a large man mixed with a wolf or tiger, emerged from the beasts. Two fled quickly, trailing blood, the other two lay still. Wayne kicked the one on top of him off and scrambled to his feet, wide eyed and shaking like a leaf.
His arm was bleeding, but not as badly as one might expect from the ferocity of the attack. "The hell was that?" he asked, grabbing at his arm with a wince. Tom didn't answer immediately, grabbing Wayne by his good arm and guiding him into the elevator, mashing the roof button.
Once the doors were closed and the car raising, he looked to Wayne, "I hope you didn't have any particularly good friends back in the operations room."