Paris followed closely behind the soldier as they moved through the eerie halls of the camp. Every step echoed against the cold, sterile walls, adding to the tension building in her chest. The further they went, the more she noticed the sharp antiseptic scent mixed with something else, something rotting. Her heart pounded, but she kept her face neutral, trying to mask the fear that gnawed at her insides.

They passed soldiers standing guard, all armed to the teeth, their faces hard and unreadable. Paris glanced at them, noting the structure and coldness of this place. It felt more like a fortress than a refuge. As they turned a corner, the soldier stopped at a steel door, tapping in a code on the panel beside it. The door slid open with a soft hiss.

"In here," the soldier grunted, nodding toward the dimly lit room beyond.

Paris stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the strange sight before her. The room was large and filled with various equipment—medical tools, strange monitors, and large steel tables. But it wasn’t the equipment that caught her attention. It was the cages. Lining the walls were reinforced steel cages, each containing a figure inside—ZedHeads. Some writhed and snarled, their limbs restrained by thick leather straps, their eyes filled with ravenous hunger. Others were eerily still, barely human anymore, twisted and mutilated beyond recognition.

Before Paris could process the horror before her, a man in a long, white lab coat approached her. His hair was thin and gray, his face gaunt, with sharp eyes that flickered with both intelligence and madness.

"Dr. Paris Shepard, I presume," he said, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "I've been expecting you. I'm Dr. Chature, head of this facility."

Paris instinctively felt a deep sense of dread as he extended his hand. She shook it, forcing a tight smile. "Yes, I was told you were expecting me."

The soldier behind her spoke up, "She's from the list, Doctor."

"Excellent," Dr. Chature's grin widened, and Paris felt a cold wave of nausea wash over her. "We've been waiting for someone of your... expertise."

The words hung in the air like a noose. Paris felt trapped, but she couldn’t show it. Not yet. "What is it you're working on here?" she asked, trying to sound casual, though the sight of the caged ZedHeads made her blood run cold.

"Ah, come, let me show you." Dr. Chature motioned for her to follow as he moved toward the center of the room.

Paris glanced back at the soldier, who stayed by the door, his expression unreadable. There would be no escape. Not now. She had to play along, gather as much information as possible, and figure out a way to survive this nightmare.

Dr. Chature led her to a row of monitors showing footage from various rooms throughout the facility. Paris squinted at the screens, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. There were people—survivors—trapped in rooms with ZedHeads, used as bait, or worse… experiments. The footage switched between different scenes of horror—ZedHeads ripping into helpless victims, scientists taking notes as people screamed in agony, and bodies being torn apart like meat in a slaughterhouse.

"What is all this?" Paris asked, her voice strained, struggling to hide the disgust.

"This is progress," Dr. Chature replied, his tone flat, as if he were discussing routine medical procedures. "We're studying the ZedHeads—how they evolve, how they adapt. But more importantly, how we can use them."

"Use them?" Paris repeated, her stomach turning.

"Yes. The military has no interest in curing this outbreak. They want control. Power. The ability to weaponize the infection, to harness it for their own purposes. And that’s where you come in."

Paris felt her blood freeze. "Me?"

"Your research, Doctor," Chature said, his eyes gleaming. "You’ve already done so much work in virology, in understanding pathogens. The military believes you can help them refine the infection, make it more controllable, more… lethal."

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Paris’s mind raced. So, this was their plan all along—to use the infection as a weapon. She felt sick, but she kept her face calm, nodding as if she were intrigued. "And what if I refuse?"

Dr. Chature smiled darkly. "I don’t think that’s an option, Doctor. We’re all on the same side here, aren’t we?"

Paris hesitated, trying to mask her unease. "Oh... yes, you have a group?"

"I know you wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen, now would you, Doctor?" Chature’s voice lowered, dripping with menace.

Paris’s heart raced. "No...no, please don’t!"

"Well then," Dr. Chature said with a chilling chuckle, "let's get started."

He continued walking, leading her deeper into the facility. Paris followed, her eyes darting between the glass windows that lined the hallways. Each room they passed was a new horror. ZedHeads strapped to tables, some alive, others in various stages of decomposition. Scientists stood over them, running tests, taking notes, and injecting them with syringes filled with unknown substances.

The stench of decay was unbearable.

Paris tried to keep her breathing steady as they finally stopped at one particularly large room. Dr. Chature waved a hand toward the window. "This, Doctor, is what we’ve been working toward."

Paris peered through the glass and saw something that made her heart seize in her chest. Strapped to a steel table was a ZedHead, but it wasn’t like the others. This one was grotesque, mutated far beyond the typical infection. Its skin was pale and stretched over bulging muscles, its teeth elongated into sharp, jagged fangs. Its limbs were longer than they should be, its fingers ending in claws that dug into the steel restraints. But it was its eyes—glowing a sickly yellow—that terrified her the most. This thing, whatever it was, still had a spark of intelligence behind its gaze.

"This is what happens when the infection is pushed to its limits," Dr. Chature explained, his voice filled with perverse pride. "We’ve accelerated its growth, forced it to evolve beyond the standard stages. This creature… is our future."

Paris swallowed hard, feeling bile rise in her throat. "You’re creating monsters."

"We’re creating weapons," Dr. Chature corrected, his voice cold. "And with your help, Doctor, we can perfect them."

The ZedHead on the table let out a low, guttural growl, thrashing against its restraints. The metal creaked, and Paris instinctively took a step back, her heart racing.

"How long do those restraints hold?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Dr. Chature smirked. "Long enough."

But Paris wasn’t convinced. The creature seemed stronger than anything she had ever seen before. Its muscles flexed under the restraints, and she could see the metal starting to bend. The growls deepened, turning into an almost human-like scream, a sound that sent shivers down her spine.

"I want you to look through our files, Dr. Shepard," Dr. Chature said, interrupting her thoughts. He handed her a tablet filled with data—charts, experiments, and research notes. Paris skimmed through it, her eyes widening with each passing page. This wasn’t research to stop the infection; it was to spread it further. They were experimenting on survivors, injecting them with concentrated strains of the virus, watching as they transformed into these grotesque creatures. It was worse than she had ever imagined.

"I’ll need time to go through all of this," Paris said, trying to keep her voice steady. "To understand it fully."

"Take all the time you need," Dr. Chature replied, his smile returning. "But remember, Doctor, time is not on your side. We expect results."

Paris nodded, clutching the tablet in her trembling hands. She needed to get out of here, and fast. But for now, she had to play along, act like she was on their side. She couldn’t let them know the fear that was gripping her.

Suddenly, a loud, metallic screech filled the air. Paris turned her head sharply toward the room with the mutated ZedHead. Its restraints were breaking. The creature thrashed violently, snapping one of its steel cuffs free, its monstrous arm swinging wildly as it let out a deafening roar.

Dr. Chature’s smile faded, replaced with a look of mild concern. "It wasn’t supposed to happen this quickly…"

Paris took a step back, her heart racing. "What is that thing?"

"It’s evolving," Dr. Chature muttered, his eyes fixed on the creature as it pulled free of another restraint. "Faster than expected."

The creature howled again, its monstrous form convulsing as its bones shifted and cracked, transforming into something far worse. Its muscles bulged even more, its body expanding, skin ripping apart to reveal grotesque new growths—spines, claws, and a gaping maw lined with razor-sharp teeth.

Paris’s mind screamed to run, but she was frozen in place, watching in horror as the thing tore free from the table, standing at its full height—nearly ten feet tall now, its body a grotesque mass of muscle and bone. It let out a blood-curdling scream, rattling the walls of the facility.

Dr. Chature stumbled back, his face pale. "This... wasn't part of the plan." He quickly signaled for the soldiers. Within moments, dozens of soldiers stormed into the room, their guns loaded with syringe darts. They fired two rounds, and the monstrous creature collapsed, instantly knocked out. The scientists rushed to restrain it again, this time with even more restraints. Dr. Chature, visibly relieved, turned to the soldiers and scientists. "Make sure this doesn’t happen again," he ordered sternly.

For the first time, Paris saw fear in his eyes, and that terrified her even more.

To be continued…