Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 121: The Laboratory

​Thomas and Phillip exited the elevator into the sterile corridor of the research wing, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. The Platinum Tower, once a symbol of corporate prestige, had been repurposed into a bastion of scientific endeavor amidst the chaos. Now, its halls housed laboratories dedicated to unraveling the mysteries of the virus that had upended civilization.​

As they approached the main laboratory, the reinforced glass doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a spacious room illuminated by the cold glow of overhead fluorescents. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptics and the faint hum of machinery. Along the walls, containment units held restrained infected subjects—once-human figures now reduced to snarling, mindless creatures. Their presence served as a grim reminder of the stakes at hand.​

At the center of this controlled chaos stood Doctor Delgado, a man in his late fifties with graying hair and a demeanor that exuded both authority and exhaustion. Clad in a lab coat marked with signs of wear, he was hunched over a microscope, meticulously examining slides. As Thomas and Phillip entered, he straightened, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.​

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"Commander Estaris," Delgado greeted, his voice carrying a slight rasp. "Thank you for coming. There's much to discuss."​

Thomas nodded, stepping closer. "Phillip mentioned you had findings that required immediate attention."​

"Indeed," Delgado replied, gesturing toward a series of monitors displaying complex data sets and microscopic images. "We've been delving into the physiological and psychological transformations induced by the pathogen. Our observations have yielded both expected and... alarming results."​

He tapped a few keys, bringing up detailed images of neural tissue samples. "The virus exhibits a unique affinity for the central nervous system. Upon infection, it rapidly infiltrates neural pathways, effectively hijacking the host's motor functions and suppressing higher cognitive abilities. This aligns with the observed loss of reasoning and the aggressive, primal behaviors displayed by the infected."

Thomas studied the images, noting the dark tendrils weaving through brain tissue. "So, it turns them into mindless predators."​

"Precisely," Delgado affirmed. "But what's truly concerning is the virus's adaptability. We've documented cases where the pathogen induces physiological changes beyond neural manipulation."​

He switched the display to a series of time-lapse videos showing infected subjects over several weeks. In the footage, the creatures' muscle mass visibly increased, their movements becoming more coordinated and formidable. "The virus appears to stimulate hyperplasia in muscle tissues, resulting in enhanced strength and endurance. Additionally, some subjects have developed heightened sensory capabilities, making them more adept hunters."​

Phillip frowned, arms crossed. "You're saying they're getting stronger? Evolving?"​

"Yes," Delgado confirmed, a note of gravity in his tone. "The pathogen's mutation rate is unprecedented. With each new host, it refines its efficacy, potentially leading to variants that could be significantly more resilient and dangerous."​

Thomas's jaw tightened. "How long before we see these evolved variants become the norm?"​

Delgado sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Given the current rate of mutation and transmission, I estimate that within a year, the majority of infected may exhibit these enhanced traits. This progression poses a severe threat to our defensive strategies and the safety of our enclaves."​

Thomas exchanged a glance with Phillip, the weight of the revelation settling heavily between them. "Is there any progress on a cure? A way to reverse the infection?"​

Delgado's expression grew somber. "We've explored numerous avenues—antiviral compounds, gene editing techniques, immunotherapies. Unfortunately, the virus's complexity and rapid mutation render traditional approaches ineffective. Moreover, the extensive neural damage inflicted during the infection process suggests that even if we neutralize the pathogen, the host's cognitive functions may be irreparably compromised."​

Phillip's shoulders slumped slightly. "So, there's no hope for the infected."​

Delgado hesitated before responding. "At this juncture, our focus must shift toward containment and prevention. Understanding the virus's mechanisms is crucial to developing more effective countermeasures."​

He gestured toward a restrained infected subject—a once-young man, now a husk of his former self, eyes clouded and movements jerky. "We've identified that the virus induces a state akin to necrotizing fasciitis, causing rapid tissue decay. However, the neural structures governing basic motor functions remain active, driven by the pathogen's manipulation."

Thomas observed the creature, noting the grotesque amalgamation of decay and unnatural vitality. "And their psychological state? Is there any semblance of the person they once were?"​

Delgado shook his head. "Our assessments indicate a total suppression of former personality and memories. The infected operate solely on primal instincts—primarily aggression and the drive to spread the virus. It's as if the pathogen reduces them to a state of pure id, devoid of conscience or restraint."​

Phillip exhaled slowly. "So, we're facing an enemy that grows stronger, spreads rapidly, and can't be reasoned with."​

"Correct," Delgado affirmed. "Furthermore, our studies suggest that as the virus evolves, it may begin to exhibit group behaviors—coordinated movement, shared targets, almost like rudimentary hive intelligence."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Hive intelligence?"

"We've observed small clusters of infected moving in tight formations, responding to external stimuli almost simultaneously. Not quite the same as human coordination, but enough to suggest a basic form of communication—pheromonal, perhaps, or something transmitted via sound or electromagnetic pulses."

"That's going to be a problem," Phillip muttered. "It's already hard enough taking down a swarm. If they start working together…"

"They'll become harder to kill," Delgado said, nodding grimly. "And not just because of their numbers. Physiologically, their bodies are adapting. The newer infected we've analyzed have denser muscle fiber, calcified skin in some regions—especially the forearms and upper back—and faster healing at the cellular level. Blunt trauma doesn't stop them like it used to."

Thomas folded his arms. "So what does kill them?"

Delgado didn't hesitate. "A direct shot to the brain. That's still the only guaranteed way. Sever the brainstem, and motor control collapses. But I don't know how long that will remain true. If the virus continues to evolve the way we're seeing, even that could change."

"Any signs of immune resistance?" Thomas asked. "Anyone who's been bitten and didn't turn?"

"Very rare," Delgado replied. "One case, early on, a child. Bitten, but never turned. We ran every test we could. Genetic anomaly, perhaps. Still inconclusive. But even if there are immune individuals out there, they're the exception. Not something we can count on."

Thomas fell silent, taking a slow breath as he processed the flood of information.

"So to sum up," he said. "They're getting stronger, faster, smarter—and more organized. And there's no cure."

Delgado nodded. "That's the reality we're facing. Whatever's coming next… we need to be ready."

Thomas glanced at Phillip, who looked just as troubled. Then he turned back to Delgado.

"Keep the research going. I want updates weekly. If there's a breakthrough—any weakness, any slow in the mutation rate—I want to hear about it immediately."

"You'll have it," Delgado said.

Without another word, Thomas turned and made his way out of the lab, Phillip trailing behind.

The hall outside was quiet, but the weight of what they'd learned lingered in the air.

The enemy was evolving.

And the clock was ticking.