"Dr. Isenhour!" ___'s voice pulled Jacob from his thoughts and he turned to the younger researcher; the young man looked thoroughly alarmed, causing Isenhour some discomfort.
"What is it?" the senior researcher asked, concern in his voice. It must be one of the test subjects; something must have gone wrong. He only hoped that it was salvageable, whatever the error.
"Subject F, Doctor. She's..." the young researcher trailed off, correcting himself on personifying the control subject. "It's...showing signs of extreme distress!"
Isenhour furrowed his brow. "Describe it to me," he prompted, grabbing a clipboard and urging the young researcher in the direction of the monitoring room.
The virus, not yet ready for field testing had been unleashed on a small section of the compound, who were resigned to their quarters. A small asylum-like hospital that had been converted for every day living; barracks for sleeping, mess hall for eating; personal interaction encouraged, but not required. Many of the subjects had come voluntarily - recruited from different locations and backgrounds. Isenhour had insisted on a varied ethnic and moralistic background - he wanted to see how the virus would affect a multitude of people. It wasn't ready, but if they were going to do it, he was going to make damn sure the trial was done right. And really, he'd resigned himself to knowing this was the only way he would ever be able to test it on living organisms outside of rats and rabbits. It wasn't enough; different genetic makeup in animals caused entirely different reactions than what he'd tested on human corpses, dedicated to science. Rabbits had revived almost completely, turning feral, and eventually killing themselves. They were destructive, and if not kept fed and occupied, they simply resorted to tearing their own flesh off. (Birds) had done the same. Rats, on the other hand, had been docile unless presented with prey. Non-hunting animals, resorting to instincts drasitcally different from those they were born with. Isenhour wondered how a predator would react.
"She's breathing heavily; more than usual," Isenhour frowned. Subject F was an overweight subject, slightly asthmatic, and prone to labored respiration. Not all that surprising that infection had caused her lungs to have to work even harder. "Not only that, but she seems easily frustrated, and there's a loss of basic motor skill."
Isenhour stopped in front of the monitors, quickly switching camera 8-Q to the largest screen. He turned the zoom lens and watched as subject F struggled to remove the lid from a simple Tupperware. Left-overs from the mess hall that she'd stowed away in a discarded container she had managed to obtain. From the worn lettering, it appeared to be a butter container. Interestingly resourceful, Isenhour noted, adding a quick note to the clipboard in front of her. He'd add a detailed notice to her file based on his observations here, so he needed to observe any details. Her sausage-like fingers seemed to claw at the lid as they slipped off time and time again, and at each failed attempt, she appeared to grow more and more distressed, eyes widening, breath shortening. It was a crazed look that settled in the back of her eyes, and caused Isenhour to lean closer to the monitor. Was it a mental imbalance caused by the virus?
"Does she normally become so easily agitated?" Isenhour asked the young researcher.
"Not according to her files. It was just an off chance when I was skimming the monitors that I happened to notice it. I wasn't really looking for it, but I couldn't figure out what she was doing..."
"It's alright. It was a good catch." Isenhour smiled to himself. Finally. Some change in their reactions. This was the most major breakthrough since the infection just 24 hours ago. The loss of motor function worried him a bit. He had seen that sort of deterioration in the rats, once they were left to their own devices. Eventually, flesh began to give way to visible muscle and bone. Not only did motor function and brain stimulation deteriorate, but the body seemed to melt away, bit by bit. Eventually, they were reduced to bone and gore, but they were too mentally gone to notice. At that point, the rats had seemed to get more feral, in the manner of the rabbits, but still hadn't reached the point of self-destruction.