It’s begun. My hands shake as I fumbled to close the several layers of thick plastic. Below the clouded surfaces, moisture collects upon a form. The form. A thick smell of antiseptic cleaner reaches my mouth and nose as I wheel the gurney to one side. Is that a finger moving?
But it’s too early, it can’t be moving just yet. Shaking my head, I move around the form. My thoughts shift as I move. The preliminary trial was good, the statistics almost too good to be true. Yet something inside me pushes down deep, full of guilt.
What have I done?
The form moves. An elbow staggers out towards me. Gripping the shifting plastic, I wrap the bunched end in thick tape and stepped away.
What have we done?
All around me the sounds of movement echos through the stainless steel room.
Movement where there shouldn’t be.
Time to get out of the way. Trying not to lose my balance as I make for the exit, I step across a sloped floor and feel the drain below me. The drain that had seen so much death, so much. . .
Plastic ripples around me. A large beaker shattered on the ground and it hissed to life, eating at the floor.
Panic grips my wind pipe, and for an instant I stand stuck fast to the spot.
“Get a hold of yourself, you need to get out.” I shout to myself.
Something thuds onto the floor, I look back to see an empty gurney pushed to one side. The other plastic wrapped forms bludgeon themselves against gurney after gurney. Heaving death that is straining at weak bindings.
“Sterile . . . P-p-procedure.” Words come halting from my lips, while my mind screams, Go! Go, move you idiot! Lock the doors and begin the sterilization treatment. Now!
I moved as fast as I can, pushing between shaking and writhing bodies. They reached towards me, as if knowing what I have done. They are the true embodiment of guilt.
Guilt burns within me, forcing me to move. For an instant darkness blurs the edges of my vision and I have to brace against another empty gurney.
“Gah!” I clutch at my side,something has me, is tearing into me. To my horror I feel the smooth sides of a syringe. I pull it from my flesh, flinging it to the ground.
“NO! Noooo!” My hand shake harder than ever, as I collapse onto the damp floor.
“It’s in me. It’s in me!”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
More bodies are falling to the floor, one has a sinuous arm tearing it’s way free. Ooze drips from visible tendons and muscle.
“No!” I scream, “not me! Not me!”
I crawl towards the protective doors, feeling my strength ebb. Knowing my limbs are moving too slow. The stench of death hits me, and a piercing shriek echos around the room.
“Not me. Not me. Not me.” It’s working through the natural course.
My voice is weak, pathetic. How ashamed I am. I reach out again, feeling cool metal. the floor swims in and out of my vision, everything is nothing but a haze of light and dark. I feel the bottom of the control panel,the open release is just in my grasp.
Containers rip with sharp pops, tools and supplies spill down from a dozen surfaces. More shrieks, more smells. More.
“Huurrroohhr!” Something, the Thing, grips my foot and pulls me slowly away.
“Nooooo!! Not me!”
I feel naked teeth sink into the flesh of my leg.