Episode 201 01011010

Previously, on Dead Limit:

             “So you invented a virus?”

             “It mutated, after it spread. It was beyond my control…” Dr. Patcorn stammered. “I never meant for this to happen. Once it came in contact with multiple people, somewhere down the line it changed, and became what it is now. It’s like a cancer; it kills your real brain and takes over. The cells long for growth, that’ why they feed on humans, and just about anything else. It’s also why they’re so smart.”

 “Do you know how to kill them?” Roger asked.

Patcorn explained, “ last night I tried a little…test and found out those things are flammable, literally. They burn more readily than oil. Or at least the subjects you gave me did."

“Yes…my early…subjects did not so readily receive my virus. Either I am just a special case or the effects only work properly when the Stem and Limit viruses are joined. Apparently I did not dispose of the bodies correctly.”

“Patcorn thought it had mutated!” Roger blurted out.

“You son of a bitch, you killed my family!” Mason roared.

“You brought about over five million deaths, the nuking of Denver; all these horrors and nightmares-“Pierall growled.

“Yes, indeed I did. But I believe it’s the next step in a great cycle: evolution."



They covered their faces as a bright flash all but blinded them. A sound like amplified thunder hit their ears, a deafening blast that drowned out the other noise. They could only watch in horror as a mushroom cloud rose up from the no longer existing area that was downtown Denver.

=====

            Otis Graham watched boredly as the battle raged on the highway below. A few hundred seekers, led to the miserable camp by his loyal followers, were being anihilated by a small band of fighters. He saw flashes that he asumed were grenade explosions. High up on the mountainside he was hidden by distance and darkness. He heard a groan behind him and turned around.

"I see you've finally woken up," he noted. In the grass lay his prisoner, a random survivor the boys had cuaght on their way back from Colorado Springs. The man's eyes filled with fear, and Otis could hear a muffled screaming through the duct tape wrapped tightly over his mouth . Gunshots continued to break through the air as Otis pulled a syringe out of his labcoat.

"Now let's see the results on subject five," he muttered to himself. The prisoner whimpered at the sight of the vial, which Otis stabbed into the his neck. Otis smiled wickedly as the prisoner went limp.

"You will turn soon, and be subject five's second test..." Otis went on. With lightining-like speed he broke the prisoner's forearms, tearing the hands completely off. He then tore of chunks of bone, fashioning the radius and ulna bones into sharp spikes. Another mutation to try out, he thought evilly. He glanced back at the highway, which was now ablaze.

 · · · — — — · · ·

He had seen everything change. He thought he knew what he was doing when he visited that research center, to test out the new "cure" to his disability. He hadn't been the slightest bit nervous as he lay down on the cold operation table and got hooked up to a bunch of machines. He instructed the doctors to leave him unsedated; he wanted to feel his legs when they came back under his control. The promise of walking again, after three years, was very exciting.

The three doctors monitoring him stopped and stood back when a fourth entered the room, carrying a metal container covered in warning labels. The doctor set it down next to the patient and unlocked it with a key. There was a faint hiss as it opened, and cool gas flowed out for a second before the doctor lifted out a thick syringe full of mustard-yellow fluid. He watched this all impatiently, thinking, Why do things like this always seem to happen in slow-motion? He tried to remained as relaxed as possible as the sharp three-inch needle stabbed deep into his right thigh and injected 20cc's of stem cell-filled fluid into his system. Once every drop was inside him the needle was quickly but gently pulled out.

"It will take a few minutes for your body to recognize it, and for the cells to find the damage, but after that you should be healing in no time," one of the doctors told him. Now all he had to do was wait.

Everything is going to change, he thought to himself.  I'll have my legs back. No more wheelchair. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. Although they were keeping quiet he knew the doctors were anxiously watching him. The silence helped him to focus on any feeling in his legs. It was five minutes later when he began to feel something.

At first it was just a slight tingling around his waist that began to spread to-his thighs!-then came powerful wave of itchiness. Instinctively he reached to start scratching, but a doctor grabbed his hand, saying, "If it itches that means it's working. Scratching will only irritate your skin further."

The itching, to both his annoyance and delight, spread down his thighs and into his calves. Then his whole body went numb, in just seconds. To him it felt like everything but his brain had suddenly fallen asleep. There was a loud knock on the door, and a nurse poked her head in saying, "Dr. Graham wants to watch this test if you don't mind."

The others nodded and in stepped a tall, rather intimidating man wearing a lab coat. He noticed a couple odd things about this person right away: he had shoulder-length green hair, pronounced veins with no reason for being so, and what looked like a large amount of swelling on the back of his head. The man's skull looked an inch too long.

"Your name is Gary, correct?" Dr. Graham asked him. He nodded as best he could-the numb feeling had reached his neck-then winced when he felt a sharp pain in his back. A second later he felt another, then another, all along his spine, like someone was pinching it in random places.

"Where is the pain?" one of the doctors asked.

"Something’s...pinching… my spine.." he hissed.

"Gary, tell me, how does your head feel right now?" Dr. Graham asked him calmly. As the doctor said that, Gary realized his head was in throbbing pain.

"Migraine," he gasped. Dr. Graham smiled. "I need you all to leave now," he instructed the other doctors, "I will personally oversee the rest of this operation." The others hustled out, leaving Gary and Dr. Graham alone.

"Sedate me," Gary pleaded. Dr. Graham shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but if your condition is what I suspect it is then there is nothing that will block the pain. Your nervous system is too strong now."

"What are you talking about?" Gary yelled as a spasm nearly made him fall off the table. He screamed as terrible pain erupted in his brain. His vision swam, his head felt ready to explode, and he very much wanted to vomit. He was shaking violently and uncontrollably.

Dr. Graham just stood back and watched. "It's evolution," he muttered, as Gary sat up and vomited all over the operating table.

Finally, four minutes later, most of the pain had died away. Gary gasped and spat out vomit, while Dr. Graham told him:

"I believe you are a special case, like me."

Gary could hardly understand the doctor, his head was still throbbing and his skin was starting to feel like it was on fire.

"Does everyone have to go through this?" he sputtered.

"Not at all. With every patient before you except for two the Stem virus only healed damage, but in us it mutated. It will not stop growing."

"Then how come you’re alive?" Gary inquired. He started rubbing his arms vigorously, trying to stop the burning feeling to no avail.

"I invented another virus, one that would limit the growth of the cells but allow them to remain "stem" cells even after healing. That way, if I get wounded, I can heal immediately."

"I...don't believe ...you," Gary gasped, then stared in horror at his skin. Tiny bubbles were forming all over, and expanding rapidly.

"Oh, this is new," Dr. Graham commented. "This will not look pretty in two minutes. I strongly suggest you allow me to give you my second virus."

Gary shook his head, and continued to stare in horror at his arm, which now looked like bubble wrap. His entire body was boiling. He screamed thrashed around, but he couldn't let himself scratch the bubbles, in fear of what would happen if they popped.

"Let me give you the shot," said Dr. Graham. "It will unlock your true potential. No more pain, no more worries."

Gary closed his eyes and nodded.

"Just do it."

Ten Days Before Start of Infection:

Gary woke up to the sound of static on his cheap television. On his alarm clock the time glowed in big green numbers: 12:43. He'd slept in again. Every day since he'd got the shot; his whole schedule had been messed up. He couldn't fall asleep until late, and didn't wake up until the next afternoon.

It had been five days since he'd visited the Stem Genetics lab and received the stem virus, as well as the…other one. He could walk now, but his physical therapist was forcing him to stay at home for the time being. Not only could he walk; it seemed like everything he did he was doing faster now. He could focus better on what he was doing. Whatever Dr. Graham had given him, it was working wonders. Now if only he could rid himself of the memory of the pain he went through...

Speaking of Dr. Graham, the man had called Gary at least a dozen times; at first just to check on his condition but later going on to praise him: apparently the doctor was trying to re-create the Stem virus's mutation- something Gary wanted no part in. When Dr. Graham had called last night begging for some blood samples Gary had furiously hung up. He was not a human guinea pig.

Lazily he slid his legs off the couch he'd fallen asleep on and got up. He stared tiredly at the TV for several second before rubbing his eyes and reaching for the remote. He tried changing the channel before realizing it was just on the wrong input. Once he got it back on cable he took his time sifting through the channels, finally stopping on channel 9 for the news. Before he could start watching, however, he heard loud knocking on the door. Whoever was knocking was very persistent, because they didn't stop until he yelled, "Alright girls, I'm coming. Hold on."

His next-door neighbors, Lissette and Taylor Huggens, would always rap at his door till he answered. They were some of the few people he opened his door for.

"Are you starting to feel better?" asked Lissette, the younger of the two. Both were around twenty, Gary knew, but he always thought these shorter, blonde, forever-happy girls looked younger, in their teens. He always felt awkward around them, even though at twenty-seven he was just five years older than Taylor.

"We made you a few treats," Lissette went on, holding out a good sized box.

"Cookies and muffins," Taylor told him. "We made them just for you."

Gary couldn't help noticing that they still seemed awed that he was standing. Of course, the whole time they'd known him he'd been in a wheel chair.

Gary lived in small apartment complex in Lowry, a suburb between Denver and Aurora. There were plenty of parks around his home, but ironically he hadn't been able to enjoy them much due to his disability.

He kindly thanked the girls for the treats, and then returned to his TV. He opened the box and grabbed a sugar cookie.  Those girls are always so nice, he thought as he sank his teeth into the sweet baked dough.  I really hope I can someday repay them.

Four Days Before Start of Infection:

For the first time since his visit to the lab, Gary woke up early. At 7:00 AM he got up, drank some coffee, got dressed and started looking for a job on his old computer. The thing was so slow that by 9:00 he had only submitted three applications, all of which were for fast-food joints. By 10:00 he realized he was too bored to stay indoors, so he decided to go jogging in the park across the street.

The feeling was exhilarating- he could run again! Being able to move so easily, so quickly, with no need for someone to push you; Feeling the wind blow past not having to worry about losing control... His life was going to be so much better without a wheelchair.

He began to notice how little his legs were tiring, so he picked up the pace. Again, after a few laps of full-on running nonstop he still wasn't tired. He remembered what Dr. Graham had said, about unlocking his true potential and whatnot.  Could he have really been serious? he wondered.

Gary noticed a group of joggers getting on the track at the other side of the field.  I guess it's time to find out, he thought. Gary then took off in a sprint, speeding around the track. As he came up upon the joggers they tried to pick up their pace. He still passed them in seconds. by his ninth lap he discovered he still wasn't tired. He also wasn't paying attention to his speed. As he looked back over his shoulder at the joggers he'd overlapped eight times now, he suddenly tripped and found himself landing face first on asphalt. A car honked and swerved past and another came to a stop next to him.

Gary stood up and looked at his arms-he was covered in road burns and bits of dust and asphalt. An old timer rolled down the window and called out, "Whoa, you okay son? You looked like you was flyin'!" Gary chuckled.

"Nah, I was just running fast and forgot to pay attention." He said. The old timer suddenly watched in awe as Gary's arms began to heal right before their eyes. The scratches and burns shrank and disappeared in a matter of seconds. 

The old timer eyed him suspiciously before asking, "Are you on steroids, boy?"

Gary blushed, embarrassed by the whole situation. Cars were beginning to line up behind the old timer, who drove off before he could answer.

He got off the road and started back towards home, wondering how he possibly reached the street so fast.  Nobody alive can run like that, he thought. As he reached the street before his house he noticed something out of place: the blinds in his front window where closed!  I'm probably just being paranoid, he thought. Yet he definitely remembered opening them this morning. He was sure of it.

Cautiously, once in his front yard, he approached his front door. Here he found a second sign of intrusion: the door knob was crushed and the frame splintered and broken around the dead bolt. Gary pushed the front door open and peered in. It was very dark inside his apartment, and after he shut the door it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Someone had closed all the curtains and blinds. Someone was in there with him. Someone was...on the couch.

"YOU!" Gary roared, flipping on the nearest light switch. Dr. Graham was sitting there, looking stressed and worried. Before Gary could shout any further the doctor put a hand over his mouth. " Quiet, he hissed. He removed his hand and stood back.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Gary growled.

"I need a place to hide." The doctor told him.

"Dr. Graham, what did you do?" Gary questioned, his temper rising.

"Oh, cut the doctor stuff. I quit that job. Please call me Otis."

"I don't care what your goddamn name is-why are you here?"

"I had to...dispose of some waste. If I had done it out in the middle of nowhere it might have raised suspicion. In the middle of the city it just looks like an act of terrorism."

Gary looked at Otis, disgusted. "GET-OUT-OF-MY-HOUSE-RIGHT-NOW!" he yelled.

"Is that a threat?" Otis sneered. "I save you, and this is how I'm treated." His eyes began to glow bright green.

"You’re sick," Gary told him, "You're a freak, and I'm going to kill you!"

Otis laughed. "Good luck trying." Gary charged, but Otis disappeared. He heard a crash from his front room and the sound of shattered glass flying everywhere. He dashed out to his yard, but couldn't see the madman anywhere. He swore he was hearing faint laughter in the wind.

"Gary! Are you all right? What happened out here?" a female shouted behind him. It was Taylor, coming down the steps from her apartment.

"I heard some yelling and...jeez you do have a broken window!"

Gary was only half listening, trying to figure out what just happened. An act of terrorism? Suspicion? he wondered.

Suddenly Lissette dashed out to the yard, shouting; "Oh my god, you guys have to come see this! It's on the news, it's horrible!"

Taylor grabbed Gary's arm and pulled him along with.

"Come on, let's see what happened."

On the TV was footage of burning car wreckage and concrete debris, while a reporter was saying, "Firefighters arrived at the site fifteen minutes ago after getting over forty calls about an explosion. Thankfully there is little damage, one officer has told us. Still, there is a five-foot whole on the floor above."

A clip from a news helicopter showed a blackened opening on top of the structure, smoke still streaming out. Then another clip played, showing two fire trucks on the street, ladders raised to the fifth level. "Police are saying there are no other signs of danger here, but it will be closed for the remainder of the week for cleaning and reconstruction..." The reporter went on, "...For those just tuning in, there has been a car bombing in downtown Denver, at the parking garage on 19th street and Welton..." Lissette turned the TV off.

"Can you believe some people?" she asked.

"I know," Taylor yawned, "If you want to blow something up at least do it under a tower or something."

Lissette glared at her sister. "What? I was just kidding!"

"Teenagers," Lissette grumbled, rolling her eyes. Gary, however, was still staring at the blank screen.

 This isn't what Otis was talking about, is it? What was the 'waste'? Test subjects? God, this is all because of me...he wanted to make others...

Two Days Before Start of Infection:

He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill himself. Not that he didn't want to die, just that he simply....couldn't. He was unable to die. He had tried overdosing, alcohol poisoning (he didn't even get drunk), electrocution (a long story involving scissors and a power outlet), Stabbing his heart (his chest seemed to spit the knife back out), hanging (it just gave him a sore neck for a couple hours), and finally, shooting himself. For this he bought a silenced pistol and drove out into the farmlands east of Aurora. He coughed up three bullets before aiming for his temple. The round rebounded back into the barrel and jammed the gun. Furiously, he left the firearm in the field and drove back home, the whole time watching his face heal in the mirror.

Once home he collapsed onto his couch and turned the TV on. As usual, a report was going on about the car bombing. "...New information was released to us this morning regarding possible human remains in the trunk of the car. Autopsies have revealed that they were dead before the explosion, but little more is known." Gary quickly sat up and raised the volume. I knew it! Otis did this! he thought, enraged. "Police say there were around five bodies stuffed in the trunk, they now believe the bomb was meant to destroy evidence of them, not cause damage to the garage itself..."

He continued to watch the report intently. Twenty minutes later, another, more interesting one started:

"This just in: two medical examiners dealing with the garage bomb case have been sent to Saint Luke's Medical Center due to a strange infection that caused both men to go unconscious two hours ago. Doctors are not releasing further information to the public at this time..."

Seven Hours Before 'Recorded' Start of Infection:

Gary could take no more. He hardly did anything but watch the news now. Apparently eight doctors were now under quarantine along with those coroners. He knew what was happening. Otis screwed up, so he blew up the evidence. He didn't do a good enough job though, because whatever he was testing survived, and now it's spreading.

He decided he would try at killing himself one more time, and if that failed, he would visit that hospital himself. He looked at his watch- it was ten thirty.

Five Hours Before 'Recorded' Start of infection:

He looked out the window, at the road seven hundred feet below him. He really couldn't remember how he got here, but he was near the top of the Republic Plaza building. He ran up that staircase faster than he imagined was possible- over a thousand steps in only three minutes. He took a last glance to make sure nobody was around to see this. He backed up, and then charged at the window. It gave way easily, then he was falling. Seven hundred feet should do it, right? he thought. Gary closed his eyes and waited for impact.

He heard screaming and honking. He slowly opened his eyes, realizing that he was still alive, and….completely unharmed. Against his will his body had hit the ground like a cat, leaving him...wait...He stood up and suddenly collapsed. Gary felt no pain but knew his legs were broken. He crawled off the street and sat at the curb, crying. His legs itched like hell as the shattered bones inside started knitting back together. This was it, his last option. He simply, no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, could not die. Not anymore.

Three Minutes Before 'Recorded' Start of Infection:

It had, for once, taken longer for Gary to heal than he expected. During that time, he thought about how his life would have been so different had he been capable of healing like this before he'd lost his legs three years ago. Now they were healing in mere hours.

After limping to his car, Gary had waited for his legs to return to normal so he could drive again. He was halfway home when he remembered the hospital. It was 6:24 by the time he arrived at St. Luke's, and he was ready to tell the world who was at fault for this, and what was going on in the quarantine room. Truthfully, he himself hardly knew what the new infection was.

"I would like to visit the doctors under quarantine," he told the nurse at the front desk.

"I'm sorry sir, We can't allow anyone in there at this time. It's under quarantine for a reason."

"Listen," he hissed, "I know what it is-sort of. I was one of the only 'successful' test subjects..."

The nursed just stared at him, not believing a word he said.

"Sir, I need you to go home, get some rest. You must be having hallucinations or something..."

"Listen, I know who did this!" he shouted. The nurse picked up a phone. "I need security at-" Gary snatched the phone out of her hands and crushed it. "You need to hear me out-” his sentence was cut off by an orderly who covered his mouth with one hand and pulled him away from the counter with the other.  He elbowed the orderly hard in the ribs, but was restrained by two tough security guards. Lots of people stared at him as he was dragged towards the exit. Gary knew it wasn't worth it to fight, so he gave in and instead yelled: it's based on that new virus at Stem Genetics! A man who worked there did it all! His name is Ot-" one of the guards covered his mouth. They reached the door and opened it, but suddenly paused: they could hear lots of yelling coming down the hallway. Then the screaming began.

 . -. -..

"They're all dead. We burned every last one of them."

Mason kicked a black bone across the road, shaking his head. Roger watched as his friend picked up a skull and tossed it into the field beside the highway.

“Why was it so easy?” Mason wondered aloud. All around him were the charred skeletons of the Mockers from the attack the night before.

“What are we going to do about Paul?”

“The kid’s a disaster just waiting to happen,” Mason said unpleasantly. “He should have taken the stupid shot. Now we’ll have to put him down.”