All characters are over the age of 18. Author's note at the end.
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The subject's eyes furrowed as he slowly woke up, still in a groggy haze from the strong sedative that had been pumped into his bloodstream. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the subject began to survey his surroundings.
He found himself lying in a small twin-sized cot, with a thin mattress that had metal springs. The room was small and dimly lit, with one small overhanging light with an exposed bulb. The walls were a fake white brick, the type commonly seen in schools, where concrete is shaped and grooved to look like real brick, and then a coat of pain is slapped over the top. The ceiling was full of steel beams and cobwebs.
On the other side of the room from the cot sat a prison-style toilet with a small sink and countertop next to it, the type often seen in doctor's offices. In the other corner there was a large metal door, with a slot at the bottom, presumably for the purpose of pushing food through.
As his senses came back to him, the subject tried to figure out how he got here. He remembered taking an uber with a few of his friends downtown to the local bars. He remembered taking shots of some mystery liquor his friend ordered, flirting with a few women, having a few more drinks and laughing with his friends, walking to the third bar of the night, and then...nothing.
He spent a significant amount of time surveying his new quarters, though he had no way of knowing how long it was that he spent awake in the room. The quarters were dank and dusty. Sanitation was clearly not of the highest priority. The subject correctly assumed that he was not the first person to be held against their will in this cell.
The subject's focus shifted to the door as the sound of metal shifting as the locks on the door opened rang out. The large metal door opened, with two large, muscular entering the room first, with a smaller man immediately following behind them.
The first two men were huge. They both stood at over six feet tall, and their large muscles were prominent underneath their grey shirts that held tight against their bodies. If that wasn't enough to ring alarm bells in the subject's mind, their earpieces, black pants, steel-toed boots, and arms clasped together in front of them were a dead giveaway. These men were guards, ex-military. The subject stood no chance against these men, and any plans he may have had of fighting back and escaping were immediately snuffed out.
The small man stepped forward. The subject caught himself - this man wasn't
small
, he just looked small in relation to the massive guards on either side. The man was wearing a white dress shirt, khakis, and sneakers. His brown hair was greying on both sides, and he wore a white doctor's coat. He had deep, sunken eyes, and a tired expression on his face. A scientist.
The subject felt compelled to speak, an instinctual attempt at self-preservation, and to understand the situation he found himself. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"
The man looked at him and smiled at the subject. "You can call me the Doctor," he said. The smile vanished just as quickly as it appeared. The Doctor reached into his lab coat and pulled out a syringe.
"Hold him," the Doctor ordered.
The subject, acting out of pure instinct, immediately bolted from his position where he on the edge of the cot, but it was a futile endeavor. The guard on the left caught him with ease, and the subject was pinned down in seconds. The Doctor stood over the subject, injecting him in the neck with the unknown fluid. Once the Doctor removed the syringe and stepped back the guards let the subject go.
The subject took a few moments to take his breath. He did not feel the effects of the injection immediately. The Doctor began to speak, his tone of voice neutral and clinical.
"You were chosen for this experiment because your genetic testing showed you may be compatible with the virus I created. A nurse will tend to your needs as the experiment proceeds. I wish you the best of luck."
The men walked out of the room quickly, but did not immediately shut the door, because they no longer needed to be concerned about the subject escaping. As the virus was beginning to take effect, the subject began to feel dizzy, and fell back onto the cot. Soon thereafter, his whole body began to involuntarily shake as if he had stepped onto the icy tundra with nothing but a t-shirt on.
Now that the men had left the room, the nurse walked through the door open door and closed it behind her, having to put her weight behind the heavy steel door to push it closed. Through his peripheral vision, the subject watch as the nurse approached the sink and began to prepare something. She had long brown hair held up in a ponytail, with black leggings and a white t-shirt. Her back was facing him, so the subject could not see what she was doing.
The shaking was steadily getting worse. The subject's teeth began to chatter, and the creeping feeling of soreness began to take hold throughout his body. The subject could tell that this would only be the beginning of his suffering.
The nurse turned around, with another syringe in hand, and walked to the cot. At this point, the subject's eyesight was beginning to fade in and out, and he was seeing double. The nurse stroked his head gently, and then used more force to keep the subject's shaking head still while she pushed the syringe into his neck. Within mere moments, he felt the sensation of a warm blanket begin to come over him. A minute later he was unconscious, and he experienced a dreamless sleep that protected him from the pain of the virus for a time.
~
The subject did not know how much time had passed before the virus had completed its initial work. The nurse, who had watched over him nearly without rest, had cared for him during his three-day long fever dream of agony.
There was a rhythm to the experience. Waking up. Searing pain. The nurse. An injection. Sleep. Waking up. Searing pain. The nurse. An injection. Sleep. Over and over again. Time was merely an illusion through the nightmare.
When the subject woke after the fever broke, the nurse did not provide another injection. As his senses slowly returned to him, the subject could feel the effects of the virus throughout his body. He could feel the pulled muscles, the torn ligaments, the altered bones - the altered bones! - the pain was immense.
The subject began to cry, quiet sobs involuntarily escaping his mouth. The nurse reacted immediately, pressing a button on her key fob while sitting up from her chair and coming to his bedside.
"Shhh," she said. "It's going to be alright. I will give you something for the pain, but the Doctor must see you first."
It wasn't long before the Doctor arrived. The moment the subject heard the door move, the adrenaline kicked in, and the subject controlled his sobbing, clenching his jaw with all his strength, with the newly found focus the adrenaline provided. The Doctor arrived with his same entourage of guards, but with a slightly different expression on his face than the last time the subject had seen him. It looked like he was concerned.
"How are his vitals?" The Doctor asked.
"Good, sir," the nurse responded. "His heart rate and blood pressure were really in the red on the second night, and he is clearly still in severe pain, but his heart has healed well from the effects of the first injection."
"Mmmm, more importantly, he is alive." The Doctor mused quietly to himself, turning towards the sink, and began to prepare another injection.
