A week after his unsettling discoveries about the artificial optimization of TS-996, the daily routine in Kane and Lina's laboratory took a macabre turn.
One morning, a LyraGen team, with their usual silent efficiency, delivered a series of sealed containers. These were not tissue samples or cell cultures, but something far more tangible and disturbing.
"Post-mortem tissue samples, Dr. Kane," Lina reported, reading the digital manifest with an expression of caution. "Four subjects. Non-viral causes of death: car accident, aneurysm, heart attack, and a case of overdose. All declared healthy in the last six months. Collected in the last twelve hours."
Kane nodded, his mind already processing the implication. LyraGen was not only interested in the virus itself, but also in its presence within the population. The Level 4 biosafety cabinet, already an imposing presence, felt even more ominous.
The bodies arrived on gurneys, covered with white sheets, and were moved to the autopsy room adjacent to Kane's laboratory, a cold, gleaming stainless-steel space. The harsh, white light from the surgical lamps fell upon the inert forms. The air, despite the ventilation, carried a sweet, metallic scent of blood and formaldehyde.
Kane put on his full protective gear: sterile gown, double gloves, N95 mask, and face shield. Lina, beside him, mirrored his movements with a seriousness he had never seen in her before.
The first body was that of a young, muscular man, with pale skin and the rigidity characteristic of death.
The autopsy began. Kane, with almost robotic precision, a defense mechanism against the raw reality unfolding before him, took samples from each major organ: brain, heart, lungs, liver, spleen, kidneys, skeletal muscle.
As he made a clean cut into the tissue, a fleeting thought crossed his mind: the life that once animated this body, now reduced to a collection of samples for a purpose he was only beginning to grasp. Lina prepared the vials, meticulously labeling each one.
The silence was only broken by the snip of the scissors cutting the sternum, a sound Kane had heard thousands of times, but which now felt different, more intrusive, and the soft hum of the ventilation systems. His gloves adhered slightly to the cold, waxy skin of the young man.
The scene was raw, visceral, a striking contrast to the abstraction of genetic sequences. The detailed description of the bodies and the autopsy scenes imprinted themselves on Kane's mind, every cut, every exposed organ.
"First brain tissue sample ready for PCR, Dr. Kane," Lina said, handing him a vial.
Kane nodded, his face expressionless as he processed the sample. He repeated the procedure with the rest of the bodies, each with its own story of a life cut short, now reduced to a series of tissues for analysis.
Kane's distress was not about the bodies themselves, but about the implication of their presence in that place.
Hours later, back in the laboratory, the PCR results began to arrive. The screen flickered, a green light blinking on the result indicator. Kane leaned in, his breath held.
The word 'Positive' materialized next to 'Lung'. A knot formed in his stomach. Then, with relentless speed, the lines of text filled in: 'Heart: Positive', 'Brain: Positive'…
Lina, who was monitoring another screen, gasped, and Kane noticed her gloved hands trembling slightly as she held the vial, her gaze shifting from the screen, unable to process what she was seeing.
"Dr. Kane, the second subject… also tested positive. All samples."
The air grew dense. Kane moved on to the third subject, and then to the fourth.
One after another, the results confirmed the truly unthinkable.
TS-996 in all samples, even in those with no known exposure. There was no travel history, no contact with sick individuals, no prior symptoms. These were healthy people who had died from causes unrelated to the virus, and yet, the virus was present in them. In all of them.
Kane tore off his gloves with a sharp motion, tossing them into the biohazard waste container. He ran a hand through his hair; his eyes fixed on the accumulating results.
"This makes no sense, Lina," he said, his voice tense, barely a whisper. "It's not an infection. It's not an outbreak. If it were an infection, we'd see an inflammatory response, a pathology. And if it were an outbreak, there would be a vector, a chain of transmission. But these individuals… they're random. Geographically dispersed."
Lina approached him, her face pale. "Then… how? How is it possible that it's in all of them? Is it a contaminant? Or an error in the reagents?"
Kane shook his head, his mind already spiraling into terrifying possibilities. "We've used negative controls, Lina. The equipment is calibrated. This is real. The only logical explanation, however far-fetched it sounds… is that the virus is already in the population. In the entire population."
A heavy silence fell, so dense it seemed to absorb the hum of the equipment. Lina did not respond immediately; she just looked at him, her eyes reflecting the same paralyzing horror he felt. It was a truth that needed no reiteration, a silent pronouncement.
"An endogenous virus?" Lina inquired, her voice barely audible. "Like the ancestral retroviruses we inherited from our ancestors… but this one is new? And it has spread throughout humanity without anyone noticing?"
"It's not endogenous in the evolutionary sense of millions of years, Lina," Kane clarified, though the distinction seemed insignificant given the enormity of the revelation. "But yes, a universal virus. Latent. Silent. Like an imperceptible passenger in each of us."
A companion that, if activated, would not only cause illness, but would rewrite the very nature of perception, of determination. The image of an inert, yet functional, brain flashed through his mind like a chilling spark.
The conversation transformed into a whirlwind of assumptions and refutations.
Kane's mind, so accustomed to the cold rationality of virology, struggled to digest the truth. Kane's growing anxiety was evident. It was no longer just the academic fascination with a puzzle.
It was dread. A cold, existential dread.
"If this is true," Lina said, her eyes fixed on the results, "then… what does it mean? What is the purpose of this virus? Why is LyraGen investigating this in secret?"
Kane did not answer immediately. He observed the information on the screen, the genetic sequences of TS-996, the PCR bars that confirmed its widespread presence.
The curiosity had turned into a somber obsession. He was no longer just a scientist pursuing solutions; he was a man who had glimpsed a truth the world was not ready to face.
A decisive moment.
"It means, Lina," Kane finally articulated, his voice low and imbued with a terrible certainty, a whisper that, nevertheless, permeated the laboratory, "that we are all dead. We just don't know it yet."
Lina took a step back, her eyes fixed on him, her pale complexion heightened by the cold light of the monitors. There were no questions, no refutation; just an eloquent silence, an echo of the statement he had just uttered.
The revelation of the ubiquitous virus nestled in Kane's psyche like an imperceptible guest, refusing to be dislodged.
That night, sleep, far from offering solace, transformed into a battleground for his deepest fears.
He found himself again in the immaculate corridors of LyraGen, but the white, uniform light now flickered, casting elongated, dancing shadows.
The accustomed stillness had been replaced by a shuffling of footsteps, a guttural murmur reverberating in the distance. The doors with biometric scanners were wide open, exposing the ulterior gloom.
And at that moment he saw them.
They ambled through the hallways, slowly, dragging their feet.
Figures. Silhouettes in laboratory attire, some with the livid and waxy complexion of the remains he had analyzed hours earlier.
But the most terrifying aspect was not their condition, but their lack of individuality. Their faces were uniform, devoid of features, similar to melted wax mannequins, and Kane felt a chilling revulsion, the inability to discern any trace of humanity in them.
Disfigured bodies advancing through the laboratory corridors, their movements clumsy, yet relentless, approaching with a slowness that felt like torture.
One of them, with a 'Miller' label barely discernible on his lab coat, turned his featureless head towards Kane, and a guttural sound escaped his throat, not a word, but an echo of his own desolation.
Kane's perplexity turned into a chilling panic. He tried to flee, but his limbs felt heavy, rooted to the pavement. The scent of antiseptic combined with a sweet, metallic stench, the odor of death and decomposition infiltrating his subconscious.
He awoke with a choked cry, his heart pounding forcefully against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the stillness of the room.
The room, cold and sterile, took a few moments to materialize, dispelling the apparitions, but cold sweat dampened his forehead, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. The resonance of the shuffling footsteps still reverberated in his ears, and the image of the featureless faces, the ubiquitous presence of the virus in each of them, had been indelibly etched into his psyche, more vivid than reality itself.
His academic curiosity, his driving force for years, had been surpassed by a combination of terror and a new, risky, resolve.
The fixation was no longer limited to understanding the virus, but to unraveling the conspiracy behind LyraGen. The dream was not merely a nightmare; it represented a warning, an anticipation.
"I need to act," he reflected with determination.
Kane got out of bed, his movements slow, as if every muscle protested. He walked to his desk, where his personal laptop, an outdated model with no access to LyraGen's internal network, lay closed. It was his only link to the outside world, his exclusive sanctuary for his thoughts.
He activated the laptop, the screen illuminating his fatigued countenance.
He started a new file, encrypted and protected with multiple layers of passwords. It was a blatant transgression of his confidentiality agreement, an act of disloyalty towards LyraGen.
But scientific ethics, which had guided him throughout his existence, demanded him to act.
----
November 13, 2026. 03:17 AM. LyraGen Facility. Personal Note #001.
The results from the post-mortem samples are conclusive. TS-996 is not a localized infection. It is universal. Present in every subject analyzed, regardless of the cause of death or exposure history. This defies everything we know about viral epidemiology. It is not an outbreak; it is a global latency.
The implication is terrifying. If the virus is in all of us, what activates it? And why is LyraGen conducting this research in secret, with methods that border on the immoral? The contract clauses, the security, the closed network… it all fits now. They are not containing an outbreak; they are monitoring something that already exists, or worse, something they themselves have… optimized.
My dream tonight was… revealing. Faceless bodies in the hallways. This isn't just science. This is… a countdown.
----
His digits, initially hesitant, rested on the keyboard. Each keystroke represented an act of rebellion, a forceful blow against LyraGen's prison.
He began to record personal notes covertly, each word a display of insurrection, a frantic effort to document the truth before LyraGen could eradicate it, before it was irretrievable.
This marked the crucial moment.
The curiosity had given way to fixation, and fixation to a purpose.
He was no longer a mere spectator; he had become a witness.
The dynamic had changed.
----
Interlude: Unsigned Fragment
SUBJECT: Re: Subject K. Incorporation.
FROM: [REDACTED]
TO: [REDACTED]
CC: [REDACTED]
DATE: November 1, 2026
Dr. Kane's entry has been confirmed. His profile aligns with our needs for the current phase of Project TS-217. His [ENCRYPTED] history makes him the ideal candidate to unravel the agent's most complex aspects, without raising unnecessary suspicions.
He has been assigned to laboratory 3B. He will be provided with access to primary samples and the necessary equipment to keep him functional and productive. However, it is imperative that he remains unaware of the true nature of [REDACTED] and the full scope of Gamma Phase. His focus must remain strictly on virological characterization and latency mechanisms.
[PHRASE DELETED] Dr. Rivas has been instructed to supervise his resource requests and divert any line of investigation that comes too close to [REDACTED]. Dr. Mercer will be responsible for managing his reports and ensuring that critical information is filtered as needed for our objectives.
The timeline for Omega Phase activation remains on track. [ENCRYPTED: 'Global synchronization is crucial for successful mass deployment'] We cannot allow his innate curiosity to compromise the master plan. His value lies in his intellect, not in his knowledge of the complete truth.
Ensure his external communications are monitored. [REDACTED]
.
----
.
[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Kane continues his investigation, but things are getting more and more complicated. His curiosity drives him, but little by little, he begins to fear such a perfect virus.
In addition, Kane begins to keep a private log of his discoveries. It's a bit illogical, I know, but the character wouldn't feel complete without a log.
On the other hand, it seems that LyraGen isn't a normal laboratory (as we already knew), and Kane will slowly realize where he ended up.
----
Read my other novels
#The Walking Dead: Vision of the Future (Chapter 70)
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time (Chapter 68)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 17)
You can find them on my profile.]