A terrible disease spread through Africa. The infected humans turned into mindless flesh-eating creatures. People fled the continent as quick as they could, on ships and planes. Those that left on ships had to live with the horrifying image of the infected chasing after them and drowning.
A cure for the disease was produced in about half a year, and teams of brave scientists and military men risked their lives to rescue Africa. And once the last man on the continent was cured of the horrible disease people believed the infected to exist no more.
That was until a party of the infected was spotted on the beaches of Florida. There were hundreds of them, and the cures in stock were not enough to deal with them all immediately.
Isaiah, the first of the cured, was perplexed by this. Twenty years ago, the marines had found him in a hospital, feeding on the corpses in the morgue. They had cured him then, and being a doctor and having experienced the infection firsthand, he was considered an expert on the matter.
When the news about the infected party surfacing in Florida reached him, he had an idea. Seeking reassurance and assistance, he went, as he often did, to Dr Maslow.
Dr Maslow was a cheery old fellow with bright white hair and a sparkle in his eye. He was an esteemed researcher who had collaborated with Dr Isaiah on numerous papers about the infected.
Isaiah, or as we should say, Dr Isaiah, went to Dr Maslow’s study and sat across his paper-strewn desk.
“Did you see the news about the infected appearing in Florida?” Isaiah asked.
“Yes, I read about it. Reached Florida in one piece.”
“And they walked for twenty years, on the ocean bed, mind you, so peculiar.”
“You remember the paper we did on the physical capabilities of the infected?”
“Yes, I do, but this is different. It’s more than just a feat of physical endurance.”
“I know what you’re thinking. This feels, looks, more like they’re ageless.”
“Yes, exactly, they haven’t aged a day. I couldn’t know much about it because I was infected, for what, four months, six months. But this, this might just have the potential to be the biggest thing ever.”
“So, if I’m not wrong, Isaiah, you’re proposing that we investigate immortality.”
“Precisely,” Isaiah said, slapping the table.
“This might not be as easy as you think. The earlier test subjects, they were dead, the infected that were caught dead in battle. Unless one of this lot dies, there are no test subjects.”
“Or we could go down the treatment centre, and you know, get one.”
“No, we cannot do that, not again. You can’t put yourself through that again.”
Isaiah flashed a broad smile. “Come on, Maslow. This is something that can change lives. This can change the world.”
“What if you fail?”
“Put it all on me, deny everything. Kill me, if necessary,” Isaiah said and stared directly into old Maslow’s eyes.
Maslow’s jaw clenched. He let out a sigh through clenched teeth and closed his eyes. “No need to go to the centre. I have it here.”
Maslow pulled a drawer open and produced a syringe and a little vial with red fluid inside.
“Infected blood, huh. Neat.”
Maslow glared at Isaiah and proceeded to fill the syringe with the red fluid. Isaiah rolled his right sleeve up, and Maslow injected the red liquid into his bloodstream.
Isaiah laughed. “Back to the dead, huh.”
“For the greater good.”
“For the greater good,” Isaiah repeated and crashed into the chair.