The boy turned his head in a snap, his face caught the beam. His eyes were dead of life, his face drawn and white, dried blood laced his chin. He widened his mouth with a snarl.

Steven aimed his weapon.

He was going to shoot, and he almost did, until the child returned to playing with the truck.

The Army set up was located about a hundred yards from the 'site'. Jack and the other men disembarked from the truck. The platoon sergeant instructed them that they would walk the perimeter with the other soldiers until more troops arrived.

What was going on? There was an air of tension, a jeep zipped by him not even beeping. Four soldiers and a child. Jack didn't pay much attention to who was in the jeep. He did however pay attention to the Specialist.

Jack found amusement in a specialist. The young man rattled on about space illness and how this was an alien thing brought in by the meteor.

Jack hadn't even heard about the meteor, he thought the kid was joking until someone else confirmed it.

A meteor landed and people were ill. That was just nuts, Jack thought. Then his thoughts went to Lil, and how she loved shit like that. How if he had even spoken to her briefly, he probably would have been pretty informed. Guaranteed she would have rambled just like the specialist.

The tents were dark, no lights whatsoever and it looked like an abandoned concentration camp. Barbed wired fence high and doubled circled the circumference.

Jack didn't say much. He just listened.

Another Sergeant. Sergeant Holmes led his Platoon Sergeant, Jack and the others to the fence.

"Just walk around the perimeter, until more arrive," Holmes said. "Deter anything or anyone that comes near the fence. Push them away, but use your weapons to do so. Should anyone escape, we have orders to shoot."

Deter them from the fence? No one was near the fence, let alone escapees.

The Platoon Sergeant asked, "Sgt. What exactly are we dealing with. It looks pretty dead out there?"

Holmes snickered. "Dead. Yeah. Watch." He gave a nod to a private who worked a huge spotlight and they tuned on the light.

The sight before Jack stumbled him back.

The specialist whispered out a 'dude'.

Was he seeing what he thought? The center tent, hidden by the darkness was illuminated by the bright spotlight. The tattered flap was open and exposed not the whole inside but enough for Jack to see what was going on. From Jack's view it looked like thirty or so people, white face and bloody, were engaging in a meal consisting of others that lay on cots. They looked up to the light, sneering.

"Dude, I mean, Sarge," the specialist said. "They're zombies."

The platoon Sgt. shot a 'get real' glance at the specialist. "They're not zombies."

"I'm telling you, they're zombies."

A nod from Holmes and the spotlight went out. "Whatever they are, there's about two hundred in there. Only a couple made it to the fence. None have escaped."

"Zombies," the specialist said.

The platoon Sgt. Snapped, "They're not zombies."

Finally, Jack thought, a topic he was pretty knowledgeable of. Granted it was a fictional topic like Zombies, but he had sat through with his wife, what he believed to be every single zombie movie ever made. Bad and good. Perhaps, even at the risk of sounding really insane, he could try to diffuse the situation with logic.

Logical zombie talk. That was an oxymoron.

But Jack tried. "Let's say for argument sake they are zombies." He cringed. "Why aren't they coming for us?"

"Why would they?" the specialist replied. "They got enough right there to keep them busy. Only a few of us here. But dude, when they are finished, they'll come for us. Imagine how many there will be then."

Jack couldn't help it. Hearing the conversation come from his mouth and then another, it was ridiculous.

Holmes made a huff sound, possibly it was a laugh, and said, "He's probably right. Make your rounds. I'll be back after I speak to the colonel."

And he walked off.

"You heard the Sergeant, make your rounds," the platoon sergeant ordered.

Jack started walking, like the others in the same circle. It was dark, freaky; he could only imagine what was occurring in the darkness. But he didn't need too much of an imagination. For with each step he took, through the darkness carried the sound of the gnawing and chomping of flesh.

He was greeted by Colonel Manning the second he stepped off the helicopter. Saul extended his hand to the man he envisioned as being older, and taller.

"Colonel Manning," he introduced himself. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Klein."

"I wish it were under different circumstances."

"Me, as well, Sir. But I've been working on this nonstop since the transformation."

Saul titled his head in confusion. "Transformation?"

"When they go from ill to, what they have become."

This description took Saul aback. "Colonel, how bad is it?"

The colonel whistled.

"Will you take me to the sick area?"

"I think you should get a look at what we're dealing with."

"I can't get that at the sick camp?"

"Oh, you can, but I'd rather you get up and close." The colonel led him to a metal structure, newer, more than likely recently erected.

"Have you pin pointed what we're dealing with?" Saul asked.

"It's a bacterium. Fast moving." The colonel nodded to the soldier as he reached for the door.

Saul stopped. His head cocked. Was hearing moans? Where were they coming from?

The colonel continued. "The initial infected took days to come full circle, but once they infect someone, it's anywhere from 4 to 24 hours. Some instances, like with Katherine Welsh, much, much sooner. Instantaneously."

"What determines that? Do we know?"

The colonel cleared his throat. "Before I tell you, I want you to take a look. After you do so, then you can confirm my suggestions."

"I see."

"I think sir, after we rectify the current situation and send our troops out to neighboring communities looking for more infected."

"Did we have escapes?"

"Not that I know of. But, what if someone never checked in here."

"You have a point."

"Prepare yourself." The colonel opened the door.

A growl? Did Saul hear a growl? He stepped inside behind the colonel into a make shift examining room. On the table lay a man. His skin tone reminded Saul of an apple, thick and off white. It didn't look real, as if he wore a pancake makeup. His lips, cracked and peeling. The man thrashed and growled. His eyes and pupils, nearly clear.

Bound to the table by straps, the man looked at Saul, widened his mouth and arched his head, struggling, as if he were trying to bite.

A soldier stood behind him, weapon ready.

The man on the table thrashed more violently.

"This is what we're dealing with?" Saul questioned.

"Yes, sir."

Saul's hand went to his mouth. As if did, the man shook. With a 'snap' sound, his arm, broke on the wrist and freed. He reached with his limb for the soldier.

The colonel nodded.

The soldier fired a single shot into the head of the man.

Saul jolted. "Was that necessary?"

"I'm afraid so. Yes," The colonel replied. "When they were first discovered, we learned how violent they were. Instinctual, attacking. They got Dr. Welsh. And two of our soldiers were injured while we were trying to detain a few for research. Not severely, but bitten by them."

"Two soldiers. Did you test them?"

"Right away. Initial testing didn't show any infection in the blood stream. But after about thirty minutes to an hour, small traces were seen."

"Where are they now?"

"They were sent to Washington, special hospital for research."

"So they didn't show signs of ... this." Saul pointed to the man on the table. "This delirium."

"No."

"But Katherine did?"

"Yes. Right away."

"And you've determined what causes an instant reaction and transformation to full blown infection."

"Yes. We believe we do know what causes it to occur instantly."

"What is that?"

"Like with this man, the delirium and violent rage sets in at the moment of death."

Saul cocked an eyebrow. Had the colonel who was also a brilliant doctor, been working too much. "Colonel," Saul said. "Forgive me, but that sounds absurd."

"I know. I know. But they have no pulse, no breath, they don't bleed. Some of them have injuries, like Katherine that are fatal injuries."

"They can't be dead, that's impossible."

"I know."

"What does Dr. Riesman say about all this? Have you consulted him? I mean he has witnessed this first hand, right?"

"Yes, he has."

"What did he say?"

The colonel stared at Saul for a moment. "Nothing. He locked himself in his trailer and ..."

"Then let's go get him." Saul turned to the door.

"We can't."

Saul stopped. "Why? Did something happen to him?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you sir. When we went back for him, he was gone."

"Gone as in dead or..."

The colonel finished the sentence. "No, gone as in gone. Took off."

"Tell me he wasn't infected."

"Last our soldiers spoke to him he wasn't injured."

Saul breathed out in relief. "We have to find him, immediately." He said, and then sank into concern. How frightened Hans had to have been to run away. And by what Saul witnessed, he could see why. He did take stock in the fact that Hans was a professional, and frightened or not, he would never hit the general populous if he were infected. Saul was certain. But just to be sure, they had to find him first. And wherever that was, it couldn't be too far.