User:Matt Aries/History Chapter 1

Behind the Eyes of Madness: The Matt Aries Story Matt Aries Urban Dead Wiki Page Prologue * Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 Story Chat

Chapter #1: The Damned and the Forgotten

"Let me get right to the point. Why did you do it? Why did you kill other survivors?"

We as people have been trying to kill one another off since the first primitive picked up a stick or a rock so many years ago, and bashed another primitives head open. It's in our nature right down to the DNA, to kill another off for self gain, or beliefs. We just invent better ways of doing such a bit more effectively with each generation. You see I was just following my primal nature to kill to survive. The way I figure, out of all the survivor on survivor killings, my mentality made the most sense. What I didn't figure on was that someone coming up with a cure, and to turn those undead back to the living.

For every one revived, another two survivors died and rose from the dead. One step forward, two steps backwards deal. Communication, the energy needed to mass produce, proper ingredients, and much more played into the problem as well.

When the Pandemic struck, I was ironically in the same place as I am now, at Maltons Insane Asylum. Before however, I could go home to my wife and kids. Now I'm just Insane Asylum Patient #1183626, just like that Pantomime lady down the hall who I believe is actually named Sharon, or that Warren Z guy, who for some reason was known as Headless something or other. They say I have issues, obviously some mime trying to kill with balloon animals, invisible weapons, a signer convinced that from the neck up didn't exist and many others had more issues then I.

That is the unstable nature of the mind. For some they adapt, others just hide to deal with as best as possible, and then their are ones like me. Something in us just snaps.

For me it was a very slow downward spiral. Others it's just one instant to flip the proverbial switch. Take that guy Blair Wells. For years he was fighting the good fight with that huge roaming survivor group, only to find out his own brother died, and he goes ape shit killing his own people, ones he called friends for years, died in their sleep in that fortress of theirs.

For myself, there wasn't just one instance, I think every survivor that died before me, took a percent of my soul with them.

*He pauses for a moment, takes a drag from his fading cigarette, and crushes it out*

Excuse me, I'm babbling. To get back to your question, 'Why did I kill other survivors?' I think it's because I thought if I killed everyone breathing, then the zeds, as we called them, could not increase in numbers. All I had to do after that was pick them off one by one and the world was safe. I would be seen as a hero by all.

"So you said their was no one instance. How did you get from point A being here working at the insane asylum to being a mass murderer of survivors trapped inside Malton?"

Chronically I can't recall everything, of course, I can tell you that I remember a few days before the panic that we had a new intake patient. He was instantly facing the death sentence even before going to trial. The powers that be sent him here to see if he was insane, or not. The file on him I can remember clear as day as if it was yesterday. John Doe. He didn't talk but moaned loudly. No finger prints came up on file, as they seemed to be shredded almost to the bone on every finger. Everyone assumed he was a homeless man, who was also a cop killer. He bit and ripped out a jugular out of a twenty year veteran from Malton's Finest.

John was smelly, a mixture of sweat, fecal matter, vomit, blood, and death. Covered in dried blood, discolored skin, and what I assumed was malnutrition. I really didn't care since my shift was to end in ten minutes, but, I wasn't going to be making my tee off time with the rest of my colleges. Seemed as MPD pushed back everyone till almost the cut off time for intake. Especially cop killers. In such I naturally assumed that all the blood came from the officer he killed, or the not so polite interrogation back at the precinct. Wasn't the first, and from what I hear due to the urban death, wasn't the last.

I was standing about ten feet away from John Doe, reading the paperwork, as the orderlies and nurses were trying to restrain and medicate our newest guest. He was thrashing around reaching for anyone he could reach for. Mouth opening and closing with that eerie sound, and biting at the air. That's when all hell broke loose for us all.

I was annoyed. It looked as if I was going to be stuck doing another double shift. I assumed too much without digging for the truth, no matter how impossible it seemed at the time. I wasn't paying any real attention to the people under my care, or those employed here.

A nurse is loading up a shot of Diazepam into a needle, to calm and relax John. Two orderlies wrestle with the left wrist, another is trying to hold down the legs to strap them down. A nurse is trying in vain to place a gag in the mouth to protect herself and her co-workers.

My eyes pop up for a brief second and I witness to my shock, of the left wrist compound fracture, which unfortunately gets a pause from... oh wow what was his name? I can't seem to remember the head nurses name. I'm so sorry.

*He sighs deeply with regret and tries to think hard, finally he shrugs and continues on*

The one trying to place the gag, in turn gets bitten on the underside of the hand. The action was so quick, it took my brain a second to comprehend what has transpired. To add to the horror, the sudden movement by John, caused the the needle in the arm to snap, pulsing blood from the tapped vain into the face of another nurse. The color of it was darker, almost black and thicker then it should have been. I realize now that the blood was partially coagulated.

The calamity takes some time but gets sorted out, and I am stuck wondering how I could become so distracted. Two of my best employees, and John Doe are sent off to medical unit in D wing. I am storming off to my office shouting and cursing up a storm. After a moment to compose myself and calm down, I call to get a update on my employees. I am told I will get a call with any news.

I have a personal policy, not to leave work while one of our own is undergoing medical care of any type. It raises moral and shows that everyone is important to me no matter how small the issue may be. After several hours of pacing back and forth in my office, doing busy work by checking over paperwork, and the like, I must have fallen a sleep, because I remember being startled awake only to view bloodied teeth bearing down on me. I remember hearing faint moaning, and screams as I lay in pain. John Doe and another I do not know were ripping my flesh off and devouring it.