Chapter 42: TS-19 - Part 2
Wednesday Morning - 6:47 AM
The power failed at dawn.
I was already awake, had been for hours. The change was subtle at first—lights dimming slightly, air conditioning running less efficiently. Then everything dropped to emergency power: red lighting, minimal climate control, automatic systems shutting down.
Jenner was in his lab, watching his screens flicker and die. He didn't look surprised. Didn't look concerned. Just accepted it.
"How long?" I asked from the doorway.
"Thirty minutes. Maybe forty. Then decontamination begins."
"You're going to tell them."
"I'm going to show them. TS-19. The truth. Then they can decide."
"Decide what?"
"Whether to stay or go. Whether the world outside is worth the struggle."
[ TIMER: 24:47:11 ]
One day. Twenty-four hours until I lost control. And I was trapped in a building that would explode in thirty minutes.
Perfect. Just perfect.
I woke the group—burst into sleeping quarters, shook people awake, told them to gather in the main lab. Confusion, complaints, questions I didn't answer.
When everyone assembled, Jenner was waiting. He'd set up the brain scan sequence on the main screen, TS-19 ready to display.
"Thank you for coming," he said with eerie calm. "I have something to show you. Then we need to discuss our options."
"Options for what?" Shane demanded.
"Survival. Or lack thereof."
He played the sequence. Test Subject 19—his wife—dying and reanimating. The group watched in horrified silence as the brain shut down, then reignited in its primitive form.
"This is what the infection does," Jenner explained. "It kills the host, then reactivates the motor functions. Everything that made the person human—memories, emotions, personality—is gone. What's left is a biological weapon programmed to spread the virus through any means necessary."
"We know this," Rick said. "We've seen it happen."
"Do you know that everyone's infected? That death—any death—triggers reanimation? The bites are just trauma. The real infection is already inside all of you."
The room erupted. Protests, denials, panic. Carol grabbed Sophia. Lori pulled Carl close. Andrea started laughing—bitter, broken.
"Everyone?" Madison's voice cut through. "Everyone's infected? Already?"
"Yes. The virus is airborne or waterborne—we never determined which. It spread globally in days. You've been carriers since the beginning."
"Then there's no point," Shane said. "No point to any of this. We're already dead."
"You're dying. There's a difference. As long as you avoid death, you avoid reanimation."
"For how long? Forever? Until we slip, fall, get sick, get killed? We're just delaying the inevitable."
"Yes. That's survival. Delaying the inevitable."
The lights flickered again. More systems shut down. A calm computer voice announced: "Facility decontamination in thirty minutes."
"What does that mean?" Rick asked.
Jenner's smile was empty. "It means the CDC has protocols for catastrophic containment failure. When the generators die, the facility destroys itself. High-impulse thermobaric explosives. Everything burns. It's designed to prevent biological contamination from escaping."
"You're saying this building's going to explode?" Dale's voice was steady despite the content.
"In thirty minutes. Yes."
"Open the doors."
"I can't. The system's locked. Once decontamination begins, exits seal. It's automatic."
Shane grabbed Jenner by the collar, slammed him against the wall. "Open the doors. Now."
"I told you, I can't—"
"Bullshit! Override it! There has to be a manual override!"
"There is. But I'm not using it."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because out there is pain. Hunger, fear, violence, death. Here, it ends instantly. Painlessly. It's mercy."
"It's murder," Rick said.
"It's choice. Stay or go. But decide fast."
"That's not a choice! You locked us in!"
"I gave you shelter, food, answers. This is the price."
Madison stepped forward, voice low and dangerous. "My children are in this room. Open the doors or I'll find a way through you."
"You can't—"
She pulled a knife. "Try me."
The standoff stretched. Jenner looked at Madison, saw something in her eyes that made him reconsider.
"Fine. But I'm staying. And anyone else who wants peace can stay with me."
He entered an override code. The doors unsealed with a hiss.
"Fifteen minutes," the computer announced. "Decontamination in fifteen minutes."
"Move!" Rick shouted. "Everyone out! Now!"
The group ran. Through corridors, up stairs, toward the main entrance. The CDC was shutting down around us—lights dying, systems failing, the building preparing for imminent destruction.
Andrea stopped halfway up the stairs. "I'm staying."
Dale grabbed her arm. "No you're not."
"Yes. I am. Amy's gone, my whole life's gone. What's the point?"
"The point is living. Even when it hurts."
"I don't want to hurt anymore."
"Then hurt with us. Hurt and survive. But don't give up."
She pulled free. "Leave me alone."
"I won't. If you stay, I stay."
"Dale—"
"I won't leave you. So you can die here, but you're taking me with you."
They stared at each other. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Then Andrea moved, climbing stairs, Dale behind her.
The lobby doors were sealed—blast proof, electronically controlled. Rick fired his pistol at them. The bullets ricocheted harmlessly.
"We're trapped," Shane said. "He killed us."
Carol stepped forward, pulled something from her bag. A hand grenade.
"Found this in Rick's police bag. Weeks ago. Kept it. Don't know why."
Rick took it, examined it. "This'll blow the windows. Everyone get back."
He pulled the pin, tossed it at the reinforced glass. We dove behind concrete pillars.
The explosion was deafening in the enclosed space. The windows shattered outward, creating an exit.
"Go! Go!" Rick screamed.
We ran through broken glass, into the parking lot. Walkers everywhere, drawn by the explosion. But we had vehicles, had weapons, had momentum.
The CDC exploded behind us.
The shockwave knocked me flat, heat washing over like opening an oven. I rolled, covered my head, waited for debris. When I looked up, the building was an inferno—flames reaching hundreds of feet, black smoke blotting out the sun.
Jacqui had stayed behind. She'd been quiet, easy to miss in the chaos. Now she was ash, along with Jenner and whatever hope the CDC represented.
The group gathered in the parking lot, coughing, burned, alive. Rick did a head count. "Twenty-six. We lost Jacqui."
"Her choice," Shane said.
"Still a loss."
"We need to move. These explosions will draw every walker in Atlanta."
"Where?"
"Fort Benning. Original plan. It's a hundred miles northeast. Military base, weapons, maybe survivors."
Nobody had a better idea.
We climbed into vehicles, engines starting, convoy forming. The CDC burned behind us, smoke visible for miles.
I rode with Madison again, everyone quiet. Processing Jenner's revelation, the explosion, the narrow escape.
"Everyone's infected," Alicia said softly. "We're all dead people walking."
"No," Madison corrected. "We're living people fighting. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yeah. The dead don't choose. We do. And we're choosing to survive."
[ TIMER: 23:15:44 ]
Less than a day. I'd need to reset soon, which meant finding a target at Fort Benning or on the road. The pressure was building, demanding, insistent.
But for now, we drove. Away from Atlanta, away from the CDC, toward Fort Benning and whatever waited there.
The apocalypse continued. We continued with it.
Rick's voice over the radio: "Stay tight. Watch for hazards. We make it to Fort Benning by nightfall or we camp roadside. Either way, we keep moving."
"Copy," multiple voices responded.
The convoy rolled northeast, leaving the burning CDC behind. In the rearview mirror, I watched the smoke column rise—a funeral pyre for science, for hope, for the illusion that institutions would save us.
Now there was only survival. Raw, brutal, honest.
And my timer counting down to the next necessary murder.
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