Sickness

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A man entered, closed the decrepit door silently, and sat at a desk in a small room. From his view of the doorframe, there was a red mold growing through the cracks, soon to overtake the small office in a matter of a month. Being deep underground, the room was made of mostly stone bricks. Some wooden beams jutted out of the walls and ceiling to act as stability and for precautionary measures in case of natural tremors. The desk was poorly crafted and looked to be made by two logs and a small wooden slab. Tens of scrolls and hundreds of papers were stacked around the room, and many more were tossed and opened around the desk. Tall shelves that were carved into the walls held jars with unnatural fluids, some glowing bright colors of vibrant greens, reds, and blues.

The man lit a flickering wax candle onto the desk, illuminating a particular scroll that the man had begun to unravel. This particular mans name was Lodocus. He dipped a feather pen into an ink bottle, and began to write the most important report of his life.




To the highest King of the land,

I write to you concerning the disastrous illness that has rapidly spread across the island. I have worked very hard to find a cure for the remaining soldiers and prisoners still alive here, but to no avail. I have researched and studied the infected for nearly a year and a half, but I have found nothing. There is no origin nor is there a cure. It is unstoppable and I am saddened to inform you that I have come to a conclusion. 

The island is beginning to have a mind of its own. There have been earthquakes nearly every week, and some parts of the prison have been found collapsed, and much of the order that was once here is now chaos and paranoia. The soldiers and guards have been working with the once locked up criminals to not only survive, but to fight themselves. The dead are rising. The food is poisoned. The water is undrinkable. The ships no longer float on water. We cannot evacuate because they have all sunk.

You have sent me here with the prospects of wealth and fortune, but you have just sent me to my death.  




Right as doctor was about to conclude the letter, the door burst open and three armed guards rushed into the room, two of the three carrying a shaking and thrashing prisoner by his hands and legs. He was screaming in pain and blood was seeping from his eyes and nose. There was foaming at the mouth, and most of his ragged clothes were soaked in blood.

Lodocus stood abruptly and shouted at the soldiers. "Get him to the table! Hold him down and take off his clothes!"

He reached for supplies, rapidly opening drawers and grabbing for tools on the wall, shoving medicines and needles into his pockets. The guards began strapping down the crazed man, who was now spouting out random nonsense and noises.

Putting a few tools next to the man on the table, what Lodocus saw on the mans body horrified him. Now naked and still wild and struggling with the bonds that held him to the table, everyone could see that there were huge gashes and slashes oozing puss and blood. Much of the skin was ripped off of the joints and muscles that were still flexing and straining to get out. The calf and thighs were almost nothing but bone, and there was a noticeable smell of death in the air.

'What or who could've done this?' The doctor thought, taken aback by how torn apart the man was. There was no saving this patient. All they had was time to get as far away as they can until he dies.

Lodocus gestured to one of the many knives on a soldiers belt. "Hand me one of those."

Taking the handle of the weapon and without a second thought, the doctor shoved the knife into the chest of the man. One of the soldiers gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

You have sent me here with the prospects of wealth and fortune, but you have just sent me to my death.  

Lodocus left the knife in the ragged man, now settling down but still with the occasional postmortem spasm. He strode to his desk and grabbed as many scrolls as he could in his hands. He pulled open the door with his foot, and left the soldiers next to the dead body.

'He wont just be just a body for long,' Lodocus thought, entering a tunnel lit with blazing torches.

"I want that room thoroughly burned," he ordered over his shoulder. "and make it quick. You don't want him waking up. Those straps and knives won't save you for long."

The soldiers, now stuck with even more terror, jumped to work, running down a similar hallway in search of barrels of oil.

You have sent me here with the prospects of wealth and fortune, but you have just sent me to my death.  

'How true that sentence is,' Lodocus thought. The body was already beginning to move, now reanimated and now a monster that's impossible to stop. 'Those idiots. They're too late'

The doctor closed the door and turned his back to the room to a makeshift elevator powered by chains and man power at the level above. He tugged at the chain, faintly hearing growls and inhuman noised coming from his old office. The platform began to rise, and Lodocus briefly saw the guards returning with the barrels, dumping them into the room and moving to grab a torch from the wall. He felt sorry for the three. He knew that they were dead. Possibly everyone on that entire floor would be dead when he returned. If he returned.

He stood in silence and in darkness, fully aware that he may never make it to the floor above. He could already hear something coming up the shaft to meet him.

You have sent me here with the prospects of wealth and fortune, but you have just sent me to my death.

There was a brief struggle, then silence.

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