"Very good, Dr. Stacy," Waters applauded the young woman. "You are quite correct. As for sustenance, fungi are decomposers. This organism extracts nutrients from the host body as it decays, but at a surprisingly slow rate."
Monroe grew agitated.
"I do not believe it is appropriate to get into this level of discussion with our prisoners."
Waters smiled, raised his hands, and clapped them together, then told Terrance Monroe, "Quite the contrary. It is important that they have this information. Critical, in fact."
"My god," Stacy gasped as she watched the happenings inside the isolation room. "I saw it on the island … I faced them. But that was like some kind of nightmare. I keep hoping it was a dream."
The dead woman in the jogging suit stood. Costa backed away to the far side of the chamber.
"In here it is not a nightmare, but a truth," Waters said, then stepped closer to her and spoke a little softer than usual. "Look at that, doctor. You are watching a woman who was dead rise to her feet. She was wounded in the neck. Look there now. That wound has closed as the organism has woven a patch like scar tissue. Now detach yourself from everything and consider that. Think about it for a moment. Here, in that room, is a miracle. A medical miracle. Think of the applications. Organ or limb repair. Curing paralysis. When I am done I will have moved medical science forward by a hundred years."
"At the expense of millions of lives?" Gant said from behind. "Are you telling yourself that that end justifies these means? All in the name of saving the environment. I have met a fair number of crazy megalomaniacs in my time but the two of you take things to a whole new level, and I believe it is because of your stupidity. None of this makes any sense."
"Not to you, no," Monroe said, "but you do not know everything, Major Gant. If you cooperate, perhaps we will be a little more forthcoming. How did you get to the island so fast? Who sent you and what is Task Force Archangel's real purpose?"
The dead woman in the jogging suit started across the room toward Costa. Her first few steps were stumbles, like a baby learning to walk. But her pace and balance improved as she closed.
"Let him out of there," Stacy said. "Let him out and I'll tell you what you want to know."
"No," Gant shouted. "You will do no such thing."
"I'm not going to stand here and watch him die. Do it. Let him out, and I'll speak."
Waters turned to her and said, "I'm sorry, but there can be no negotiation in that regard. The test subject here is important to our cause. Just as you two will be when it's your turn in that room."
"I don't believe that," she shot back. "You wouldn't stand here and tell us all about the organism and how it works, just to let them kill us. That would serve no purpose."
"On the contrary, your understanding of the parasite is vital. And you are more valuable to the project as test subjects than as informants."
Gant saw Monroe waver, as if considering voicing a contradiction to Waters's point of view on the matter, but he remained silent.
Miss Clemons honed in on Costa, moving at a faster pace and reaching for him as she approached. Gant heard Costa's breath puff from his lips in quick bursts, the sound reaching them through the soundproof viewing glass via a microphone. As for the reanimated corpse, it seemed to make no noise except for the shuffling of its feet. No groans, hisses, or howls; nothing like the zombies of Hollywood.
Costa held his ground … waited … waited … and just as she came within range he slammed a strong kick into her gut, sending the dead old woman backwards and crashing to the ground.
It did not matter. The thing regained its feet and charged again. Again Costa threw it aside and sent it tumbling. Again it came back, no weaker for the encounter.
"When will you let him out?" Gant stepped closer to Waters as he spoke and quickly felt a rifle barrel against the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry, what? Oh, the test subject? Once he destroys the unit. At that point he will receive a short rest period, then he will be placed in a room with two units."
"What?" Stacy gasped. "You mean he has no chance? What is the point of this?"
Costa threw the creature off once more, this time using all his strength to slam it against the wall. Some dried blood flaked to the ground, but Miss Clemons kept coming.
Gant answered Stacy's question in a voice akin to a growl, "This is a tactical analysis. Agent Costa has some understanding of these creatures, the way a police officer, a soldier, or even a civilian will, a few days into an outbreak. They want to know how effective a person with that knowledge would be in an unarmed encounter with one of their units."
"Wait a second." Stacy turned away from the battle inside the room for a moment and asked the major, "So you're saying they've been telling us about the organism to set us up for a test? To see how … to see how we will respond with more details about the parasite?"
"Exactly," Waters answered.
"Then what was the point of Tioga? Didn't you learn enough there?"
Again Gant answered, "That was to test speed of infection under ideal conditions. Isolated location, no serious opposition. That is why they are wondering how long we were on the island and the specifics of our encounters with their zombies. They have to know how much we skewed the results."
"Yes, yes of course," Waters said. "Our version, Major, of a shooting range."
"He's getting tired," Monroe said, directing their attention back to the test chamber.
Gant saw that their host was right; Costa was starting to loose strength. He kept the creature at bay easily enough, but it would not stop. If the agent did not do something the thing would simply wear him down.
"Fight it, man. Fight it," Gant muttered.
The Secret Service agent did just that. As Clemons came in for another attack, Costa slammed a side thrust kick into her knee. The join bent backwards and cracked like a piece of wood snapping in two. This time the creature dropped to the floor.
While not terminated, it was at least partially immobilized. It tried to stand and lost its balance, choosing at that point to crawl toward its victim.
Costa took the opportunity to kick it again, this time directly in the skull. The head whipped back and then side to side as if only a band of rubber connected it to the shoulders. But it remained animated.
At that point the test subject approached the two-way mirror, banged on it, and shouted, "What the fuck is this about? What is it you want me to do? Open the damn door and let's talk."
Stacy turned away; Gant did not. He watched everything unfold. He watched so that he could learn from Costa's experience because it was quite clear that the major would soon face a similar "test." Furthermore, he watched to see how Waters and Monroe handled the test. If he studied and learned, perhaps he might find an out to avoid what was clearly to be the agent's fate.
The creature reached for Costa's leg but he easily avoided its grasp, walking away and circling, but looking once again at the glass and the door, as if searching for an avenue of escape now that the immediate threat had been somewhat neutralized.
Then the animated body of Miss Clemons stood, wobbling and shaking as it rose to its feet.
Costa saw and muttered, "What the hell?"
Stacy surmised, "It repaired the knee?"
"A minor injury on a body that was in good shape, relatively speaking, when the infection took hold," Waters explained. "The post mortem on the unit that we'll conduct after this test should reveal a sort of wrapping around the wounded joint. Just enough, mind you, to make it mobile again."
The creature walked with a serious limp and seemed ready to topple with each step, but the fact that it could even stand seemed some kind of hellish miracle.