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  "Klutz? Really? That’s a name nowadays? Anyway, I need to make a noise complaint. We are in room number #203 and its coming from next door, one hell'uv'a racket." Hell'uv'a was one of Bills' words that he only used when emphasising a situation.

  "Ok sir I will just pop up and investigate," Klutz replied down the receiver.

  "Thank you" Bill replied before putting the phone down. He turned towards Linda, "Ok, that's sorted. the guy is coming up to tell him to stop, now about my biscuit."

  Linda nearly threw the biscuit at him. Being curious, borderline nosy, by nature, Linda opened the hotel rooms door a crack so she could see what was going on. She saw a hotel employee in a blue polo shirt walking down the corridor and she pointed to the room in question which he thanked her for with a quick wave. He knocked a few times but there was no answer. He then opened the door with his keys. The employees face dropped and he got out his mobile phone, walked inside and shut the door behind him.

  Linda in turn closed her door and pressed her head against the wall to try to better hear what was going on.

  "What are you doing you nosy parker?" Bill asked although he knew the answer. Linda replied with a scorn and waving her hand up and down to tell him to be quiet. Linder still heard the screams from the person next door and the employee was talking on the phone. He was calm she thought. The voice was too muffled to understand exactly what he was saying but she could make out the word’s 'ambulance' and 'right away'.

  She turned to Bill, "Something strange is going on in that room, they've called an ambulance out for him."

  Linda’s imagination ran wild. Maybe he had tripped and broken something, scalded himself on the shower and too badly burnt to move, or maybe he is on drugs or who knows what! The possibilities were endless. What she heard next she did not expect. It was another male scream of pain but a different one. This scream came from the hotel employee. Again, she was filled with the feeling of panic.

  Chapter 4

  Blood was literally pouring out of Ronnie ‘Klutz’ Campbell's arm and all over his blue polo. He had seen films where people would have limbs cut off and it would spurt out like a water fountain. This was not like that at all. It flowed like a river and pulsed out like a tide. It was typical of him to be the one to get hurt, he had always been a Klutz. In primary school, he had been nicknamed Klutzy Campbell by his headmaster which took hold with the other children until year seven secondary school where it became Klutz Campbell. In year eight he had tried to change it to KC which he thought sounded a bit cooler but, in the end, he was known as Klutz. He counted himself lucky as it could have been worse. He often reminded himself of the boy in the year below who farted loudly during assembly and for the rest of his school years he was known as 'Thunder Pants'.

  Ronnie 'Klutz' Campbell was sat on the black and white tile effect, lino floor of the hotel bathroom trying desperately not to pass out. His blue polo had been stained with blood and turned a dark brown green-colour. It was not all his blood at, in fact most of it belonged to Mr Smith, the guest in room #201, who had bit him.

  It was strange, his arm felt like it was burning and the blood flowing over him seamed to cool the burns. A female paramedic wearing fluorescent yellow and green was speaking to him, but he could not hear what she was saying. Probably all the adrenaline was making her words seam fuzzy. She was bandaging his arm and talking on a radio controller attached to her right shoulder. The fluorescent of her jacket was blinding his eyes and the copper stench of blood radiated out of his arms and onto his clothes.

  Klutz had been working at the Royal Duchess hotel for two years now. He was a food and beverage supervisor, in charge of helping the bar and restaurant run smoothly, but often had to cover duty manager responsibilities when the need arose. Today he had a noise complaint from room #203 about #201 and Clive, who was meant to be duty manager, had been off sick for the past two days. 'God damn it Clive, somehow you are always sick when the nutters stay.'

  A loud cry bellowed from the bloodied Mr Smith lying on the bed whilst a panicked male paramedic was pleading him to calm down. Mr Smith was tall, bald and muscular. He spoke in an accent that was European but Klutz could not tell where from. Peculiar and private, he had checked in under the name Mr Smith, the most common fake name people give in hotels, paid in cash and refused to give any personal details. Usually reception wouldn't allow someone into the room without some credit card information to have as a guarantee in case the guest trashes the room. But Mr Smith looked on the up and up. He was wearing a suit and business had been slow. How much trouble can one business man be?

  This wasn't the worst incident Klutz had to deal with as a hotel employee and not the first time a guest had attacked him. 'People have no idea what hotel staff have to see and deal with and now this idiot has bit me!' He thought to himself. He was right. Working in a hotel you get to the worst extremes off human nature. In Klutz’s short time working at The Royal Duchess he has had to deal with drug and alcohol abuse, prostitutes, affairs, wives running away from abusive partners, thefts and even a suicide.

  But now Klutz had been bitten by a guest who he had only checked on for a noise complaint. It felt like the idiot had taken a big chunk out of his forearm. Maybe he should have taken more precaution. Clive would always take a set of keys with him whenever he had to deal with a guest. He would grip the keys in his hand with the key ends poking out between his fingers like a set of spiked knuckle dusters. That had always appeared a bit extreme to Klutz but now he understood Clive completely. A set of spiked knuckle dusters would have been useful to stop Mr Smith’s attack on him today.

  Klutz looked past the avocado bathroom suite and trough the bathroom door to see Mr Smith wailing in a style similar to the noise foxes make when they cry. Blood was pouring from open sores up his arms and across his chest. His neck was stretched so the tendons and veins were sticking out rigid. It reminded him of one of his favourite horror movies, 'The Thing', where one of the characters is lying down on a table and his neck stretches along until it tears off onto the floor. Each time Mr Smith bellowed a fine mist of blood would spray out his mouth, into the air above him, onto the paramedic and back down onto his face. The paramedics jacket was speckled red like a painter’s radio.

  Blood seamed to flow out of Klutz's newly tied bandage. It wasn't soaking up the liquid fast enough. The burning sensation in Klutz's arm grew through his body. It stretched down his chest and up his neck. His body spasmed uncontrollably and he banged his head on the hard floor several times. The paramedic held his head as best as she could but Klutz was thrashing around like fish out of water. Red Foam was sputtering out of his mouth. He knew this was the end and he was dying.

  All he could think was 'How is this possible? I'm twenty-two and healthy and all that man did was bite me? Why does it hurt so much? This can't be happening, I'm not supposed to go this way!'

  The paramedic held Ronnie 'Klutz' Campbell’s head still, or at least as still as he would allow, and he slowly passed away. The last thing Klutz saw was Mr Smith get up off the bed in a wild manner and jump out of the third story window, shattering the glass as he went. The last thing he heard was Mr Smith’s body hit the ground.

  Chapter 5

  Back in the impromptu operating theatre, there was a gasp and few screams from the unsuspecting audience. The shocked crowd were now up on their feet. General Holt was up against the glass pointing ferociously at Dr Leitner and demanding somebody stop him. Prime Minster Ken Lockhart rose and turned to face the outraged crowd. He had always been good at talking down crowds and reassuring people. That was how he had managed to work his way into the highest seat in the UK parliament. He also had money to fund his campaign from a certain backer which helped. His backer even helps to promote his lame campaign slogan, 'Better Future, Better Britain' as well as help guide media attentions to skeletons in his competition’s closets.

  Like a lot of politicians his campaign was run on empty promises like; 'Things will change for the good
of the UK, the middle classes will be better off, there will be less immigrants, tougher sentences for people who break the law'. These are all things that he reassured the nation of Great Britain and Northern Ireland with. It didn't matter if it was true or even possible, as long as he made it to the top and he was not going to let the spread of a new virus waste all the time, money and hard work he had put in convincing the commoners, and his peers, that he deserved to be the PM.

  "Settle down, settle down, I have read the reports. Dr Leitner has my full trust and I'm sure he has an explanation for what has just happened.” The crowd slowly sat down with muffled protests and Ken Lockhart had to force himself not to smile. 'I could convince a shark into becoming a vegetarian. This scientist had better have a good reason for chopping up that guys foot like that.'

  "Thank you, Prime Minister," Dr Leitner said a bit sheepishly, he did not think his audience of esteemed colleagues as well as tough Army men would have reacted quite so dramatically. "Remember, as I said before we started, this is an autopsy and for all intents and purposes this man is dead. As you can see, I have just hacked about 2 inches into the ankle and the blade must have slipped under the tibia and fibula and snapped the anterior talofibular ligament." Dr Schaf Leitner looked at his audience who had no idea what he was talking about. The flesh was soft and easy to slice through, all part of the body's natural decaying process. "I know this may have been dramatic for you, even barbaric to witness, but as you can see, he had not been affected by what I have just done. He feels no pain." True to his word the body laid there just as before as in nothing had happened. His eyes were shut and only occasionally wriggling. If it hadn't been for the straps he could have been sunbathing. This lack of emotion at something so horrific made the creature more grotesque and creepier.

  "Let me explain the Brain-dead madness to you a little better. You see we do not know where this virus came from," He made sure to say the word virus and not disease, it was confusing enough for people without the nonsense produced from the UK's so-called journalism. "However, we do know how it is transferred. It is passed through the blood. It starts off as a virus that enters the blood stream replicates and lays dormant until it has found all the major organs, especially the brain, heart, lungs, spinal cord and stomach. Once this happens the virus then consumes an organs cells and replicate those cells exactly the same but one in which the virus now controls and not the brain. This leads to the infected to have total organ failure, become brain-dead and die. Whist the host is dead the virus continues to consume and replicate the cells which have now died from lack of oxygen. Once the virus has replicated enough cells to function its hosts organs, those said organs in a sense 'wake up'. These body acts as a vessel until it has completely been replicated. It moves as if it were alive but is controlled, not by a human brain, but by a newly created brain made entirely out of this virus's replicated cells."

  "So that thing on the table is no longer human?" a man in a lab coat seated behind Prime Minister Lockhart interjected.

  "No. He is human... well sort of. Actually, not exactly, you see only a small part of the brain is needed to be replicated to awaken the body. We know that a human can survive with more than half their brain removed and the brain can reconnect and make new pathways when hit with trauma. So, in the case of Robert Fisher, he is at present, more human cells that the Brain-dead Madness cells. I will demonstrate in a moment. You see research from the body farms in California, they have found that a human corpse left out in the open air, exposed to bacteria, insects, animals and the elements will have burst its cavities and become liquefied in a month. From my calculations, this virus would need at least three months to fully replicate a human which by this time Mr Robert Fischer would be nothing more than a pile of smoosh and bones on the floor."

  It was the General who had been outraged only moments ago, turn to ask a question, "So if these things are not able replicate in time to create a new body then we can just leave them to rot and that'll be the end of it?"

  Dr Leitner was calm, he knew this question was coming. He was however a little surprised by how difficult this seemed to be for them to comprehend. "I am afraid not General. You see like all creature on earth they have a Darwinian instinct of survival. They must reproduce. To do this they have to constantly find new sources of blood to infect. As I am sure we all know blood has to be infected in three ways; blood transfusions, sexual contact and blood on blood contact. The virus has altered replication of the gums making it so they bleed slowly but constantly. Once able to move and find a new host the body will bite a new victim and the blood that is on the gums will transfer the Virus into a new body and repeat the process. The new victim also provides a source of energy in the old host through any protein eaten and digested which will in turn help with the search for another new host. It is my opinion that as time goes on the virus will evolve and be able to replicate quicker but we have no idea how long this process will take and it is pure speculation."

  The general has a quizzical look on his face like he was trying to think of a follow up question but in the end, he sat down as if satisfied with the explanation.

  "Jason, would you be so kind to help me with my knife?" Dr Leitner was old and knew that that knife was stuck deep. It would be too difficult for him to remove. Plus, with the way his audience reacted having a knife stuck in the ankle, it would be too distracting to just leave it there.

  Jason, rather sheepishly and unsure of himself, proceeded to remove the butcher knife. It was stuck deep and took some effort to set it free. The blood on the blade was dark and dense. It seemed to be going through the clotting process. This was different to what he had been taught and although he had practice in dissection of corpses, nothing could have prepared him for this. The thing was still moving for Pete's sake! Plus, the way it just lay there and accepted a knife it gave the whole experience a sadomasochistic aura.

  Dr Leitner walked around to the medical trolley and picked up a small metal hammer. It was only 6 inches or so, about the size of a rock hammer sculptors used to turn marble stone into art.

  "I will now demonstrate further that the virus has not yet gotten control of the nerves and pain receptors in any of the body." He worked his way from toe to head taping with the hammer. He tapped not harder than on would to crack a boiled egg with the back of a spoon. The body gave no reaction.

  Dr Leitner looked at the crowd who were on the edge of their seats. "You could even remove an entire limb and the virus would not know." On cue Jason passed Dr Leitner a stainless-steel hack saw. It looked like something a ship's doctor would have used in the 1800's to remove a gangrenous leg.

  Chapter 6

  Klutz could no longer tell if he was in darkness or light. It appeared like darkness but there was not absence of light just empty space. For the first time in his existence he heard absolute silence. Often, we go somewhere quiet and try to experience silence we never really do. There is always the sound of air rushing in and out of our bodies, of our hearts beating, of blood being pumped though our veins. Our bodies digest food and water and our stomachs rumble, our bones click and creak. There is often the hum of televisions, washing machines, light bulbs and electrical circuits. Houses squeak and tick and groan. Birds sing, insects buzz, scratch and sliver and trees and shrubs rustle and blow. But Klutz was in absolute silence. He wasn't lying down any more or standing up. He was floating effortlessly or falling endlessly. I was unclear which direction was up and which direction was down. Similar to what astronauts must feel like when they are floating in space or what a baby feels inside a womb. Like the vacuum of space there was no air, but Klutz felt no need to breathe. He simply stayed put in the strange dimension he had been transported to. It was tranquil and satisfactory.

  He was in this state for what could have been ten minutes or a hundred years when all of a sudden in the distance a faint light could be seen. I was warming and swung from side to side slowly. The light gave him a feeling of both excitement and trepidation.
It was just twilight at first but was growing fast. Whichever way he looked the twilight would follow his eyes. In every direction, he could see it was catching up on him. It began as a low rumble but became a roar as it sped towards him. It started out as a midnight train with its high beam on that was heading for him. Then it developed into something more like being inside a sphere of light and the sphere was getting smaller and smaller or he was getting bigger and bigger. It got to the point where it almost hit him from all sides and then he was falling. Bursting through the sphere like a chick hatching from an egg Klutz began falling in a downward spiral like the gunned down world war two planes that he had seen in History class videos. The wind was pulling his face back and the intensity grew. He could feel all his skin stretching on his body due to the force of the wind. He tried to push the wind aside with his falling body but it would just roar back at him in response. The air was thick and tasted a metallic bitter sweet taste. Klutz checked his tongue with his fingers to make sure it was not made out of copper. He could spot a floor beneath him. It was a black and white lino floor and it was catching up with him fast. He desperately searched his body but there was no parachute to release. He was going to hit the ground. He cried out in terror as he smacked the ground with an almighty whack.

  Klutz took a deep but raspy breath and opens his eyes. They adjusted slowly to see a bathroom ceiling above him. It has originally been painted in white but now had some yellow stains and was in desperate need of being repainted. He was no longer in that strange vacuum dimension but back on planet earth and in trouble. Breathing was a struggle and it had become confusing and painful to remember where he was. He could not move and was completely paralysed from the neck down. He tried to call out for help but could only manage to suck in small breaths and blow out short groans. A buzzing noise came from the single round bulb that dangled from the ceiling. It swung gently back and forth. A window was left open in the room which produced a draft but Klutz was unable to feel it. He moved his eyes around the room. It all looked familiar. Above him he could see the underside of a very dated avocado sink. It needed cleaning. To his right in the corner of his eye he could see a matching free-standing avocado bath. 'Who would have this disgusting colour bath suites nowadays? wait a second...an avocado bath and avocado sink...' He forced his eyes to the left to confirm what he already suspected. It was an avocado toilet straight out of the eighties. It all came back to him and hit him hard like a led pipe. 'I'm still at the Royal Duchess, I haven't gone to the hospital, did I pass out?' His brain throbbed all of a sudden and his eyes went fuzzy. The light bulb that swung above got bigger and smaller as it went in and out of focus. The light it produced was cooking his retina's. He had not felt a headache as painful as this since the morning after his eighteenth birthday. To celebrate reaching the age where it was legal for him to buy alcohol, he and three of his closest friends had consumed a 24 pack of lager, two 70cl bottles of Stolichnaya Vodka, half a bottle of Jack Daniels and a doner kebab each with all the trimmings. Just the thought of that night would hurt his head and he had never had a greasy doner kebab since.