Chapter 124: Antidote Treatment
Candice took the report and headed down to the laboratory on Basement Level Four.
Edwin was peering through a microscope when he noticed her unusual expression and looked up.
"What's wrong?"
A thought crossed his mind.
Could she be upset because the Boss ruined whatever plans she had?
I should probably say something nice to comfort her. After all, the Boss did save me from a difficult situation.
Without answering, Candice handed him the report.
"Community influenza. Streptococcus pneumoniae variant strain. The previous medications are no longer effective."
Edwin froze for a moment.
So that wasn't it. He had scared himself for nothing.
He quickly took the report and read through it. After a brief silence, he walked over to a refrigerator and removed a test tube marked with a serial number.
"This is a strain we cultured earlier. We can use it as a control sample to determine the extent of the mutation."
Candice took the tube and shook her head.
"A comparison test is useless. We need live testing."
Her gaze shifted toward the detention cells at the end of the corridor, where four security guards stood watch.
"Didn't a new batch arrive recently? The survivors from Savannah and Paradise Island."
Edwin hesitated.
"The Boss said those people might still be useful—"
"Useful?"
Candice turned to him.
"There are over forty patients outside, including children and the elderly. If this drags on any longer, people will die."
She paused before continuing.
"And aren't they useful right now? They'll be helping us test the virus and save countless lives."
Edwin thought about it for a moment.
It made sense.
He opened a drawer, retrieved a set of keys, and handed them to her.
"Don't kill them. Every living test subject we use is one less available."
Candice accepted the keys and walked toward the detention block.
---
In the innermost cell, a bald, heavily built man lay snoring on a bed. Tattoos of a scorpion and a woman covered his arm, while a long scar stretched across his face.
The cell door opened.
The man jolted awake and stared at the woman in the white lab coat standing in the doorway.
"What are you doing?"
Candice ignored him.
Two soldiers in black suits entered, lifted him onto a laboratory recliner, and secured his wrists, ankles, neck, and waist.
Standing behind the observation window, Candice watched as two assistants in protective suits inserted a needle into his arm.
An hour later, the symptoms appeared.
The monitors displayed rapidly rising body temperature, elevated heart rate, and multiple abnormal readings.
Injected with a concentrated influenza strain, the man began trembling uncontrollably.
He tried to curl into a ball, but the restraints held him firmly in place.
His lips turned purple.
His breathing became increasingly ragged.
A harsh wheezing sound escaped his throat.
Then came the coughing.
A mouthful of dark-red blood splattered onto the bedsheets.
Candice stood outside the observation room, notebook in hand, her expression completely unchanged.
She glanced at her watch.
It was time.
She signaled the assistants.
A vial of blood was drawn from the man's arm, and he was injected with a previously effective antiviral medication.
The moment the drug entered his bloodstream, his entire body stiffened as though struck by electricity.
Moments later, he relaxed.
His breathing steadied.
The coughing lessened.
Candice studied the monitor.
His heart rate remained elevated.
His blood oxygen level was still low.
Improvement, but not a cure.
Another blood sample was taken.
This time, she ordered the dosage doubled.
As the medicine entered his veins, the man's body convulsed violently.
He let out a scream before gasping desperately for air.
The monitor readings fluctuated wildly before stabilizing.
Heart rate decreased.
Blood oxygen increased.
After waiting another hour, Candice ordered another blood draw and examined the sample under a microscope.
The virus was still present.
However, its numbers had been drastically reduced.
The medication had suppressed it, but not eradicated it.
For the third treatment, she increased the dosage to triple the original amount.
This time, the results were immediate.
The man's breathing normalized.
The coughing stopped.
The fever disappeared.
He lay motionless on the bed, exhausted but alive.
The monitor displayed normal readings across the board.
Under the microscope, no virus particles could be found.
Candice recorded a series of numbers in her notebook, stood up, and left the laboratory.
"Three times the standard dose..."
She handed the notebook to an assistant.
"Prepare the medication. Treat every patient in the isolation ward according to this protocol."
The assistant accepted the notebook and rushed away.
Candice remained at the observation window, silently staring at the row of laboratories.
---
Back in the lab, Edwin looked up from his microscope as she entered.
"It worked?"
Candice nodded.
"The dosage needs to be tripled. Full recovery should take approximately three days. Afterward, the patient will develop antibodies."
Edwin immediately recorded the figures.
Then he looked up again.
"What about the prisoner?"
Candice glanced toward the corridor.
"If he's alive, he'll recover after a few days of rest."
---
The following morning, a child in the isolation ward sat up in bed.
His mother stood behind the glass partition.
This time, however, her hands weren't pressed against the window.
Her son was waving at her.
Though his face remained pale and his lips dry, his eyes were bright with life.
He smiled.
His mother burst into tears.
Covering her face, her shoulders shook as she sobbed with relief.
A nurse approached, checked the child's temperature, recorded the result, and handed him a glass of water.
The boy eagerly accepted it.
One sip.
Then another.
Before long, the glass was empty.
In the corridor, Candice stood before the observation window, notebook tucked under her arm.
Watching the child drink, a faint smile finally appeared on her face.
---
On the third floor, inside his office, Wu Fan flipped through Candice's report.
After reading the final page, he signed his name and handed it to Amy.
"Release all patients once they're fully recovered."
"Burn every contaminated piece of clothing."
"Run blood tests on anyone who came into contact with infected patients."
"And vaccinate everyone."
He paused.
"I have no intention of letting a second Black Death happen under my watch."
Amy nodded and left with the report.
Wu Fan walked to the window.
The influenza virus of the apocalypse was terrifying.
If left unchecked, it could spread as rapidly as a plague.
It would be absurd if they survived countless Walkers only to be wiped out by a virus.
Fortunately, he possessed the medical resources necessary to fight it.
Most other factions wouldn't be so lucky.
They would either abandon the sick and flee or wait helplessly for the disease to destroy them all.
Outside, the quarantine zone had been lifted.
Residents emerged from their homes and stepped into the sunlight.
Some cried.
Some laughed.
Others simply stood there, quietly enjoying the warmth of a new day.
Far in the distance, young workers continued cultivating the newly reclaimed farmland.
The breeze carried the scent of fresh soil and green grass.
Wu Fan lit a cigarette.
Smoke drifted lazily into the sunlight.
The world was still a disaster.
Still broken.
Still dangerous.
But at least now, when people got sick, there was medicine to save them.
For the moment, that was enough.