The Truth About 447 - SCP Foundation

"Why zombies?"

Doctor Alistair, seated on a chair before the O5 council, tried to take up as little space as he could. He knew full well that was of no use, but actions like that have always happened on their own. Dr. Alistair was a common researcher in the Foundation's employ. He studied insignificant little things like the world's best toothbrush or a T-shirt with the Foundation's logo. The only thing that made him stand out of line was the study of SCP-447. And that seemed to be the reason why they called him on the carpet.

"Why me? Wasn't it Clef who brought this shit into the Foundation? It's him you need to ask, but no! You're scared shitless of him and now you're taking it out on me, huh? What if I pull out a gun and shoot every single last one of ya?!"

That's what he would have told him - if he could. But he was not brave enough. And he was searched several times, they even took his pen that could have potentially been used as a weapon. Alistair didn't have a gun, either. Neither a service weapon, nor one at home, not even a toy pistol from childhood times. So the only options left for him were sweating, sighing nervously, staring into the floor and patting himself on the neck.

They wanted a reply anyway, so he cleared his throat and started speaking with all the courage he could muster:

"Ww-w-elll… Uh-mmm. Ahem." After delivering such an impressive statement, Alistair sobbed and tried to move on to the next part. He began to whisper in a desperate voice: "Become a dentist, momma said, why did I not…"

"Alistair!" - barked O5-2, interrupting what could have possibly evolved into a fit of hysterics. "What are you droning about?! Why does everyone think that SCP-447-2 applied to dead bodies causes them to reanimate and have a hunger for brains?!"

"But that's…" - Alistair tried to excuse himself.

"But what's?!" - shouted O5-1, gradually becoming enraged. "Half the Site thinks they have an Umbrella Corporation virus or something like that on their hands! We're sick and tired of reading Site Administrator reports, saying that at least twice a month they catch one brain-dead junior employee or another, trying to bring a dead hamster or a rat in there!"

A rather heavy file of assorted reports marked the end of his speech, flying at Dr. Alistair. Reports fell out, scattered on and around him.

"Who ever did spread this disinformation?" - asked O5-4, interrupting her colleague's stream of rage, then squinted in suspicion. "Or… Or is it actually true? Alistair, if you knew this all along and intentionally left the information about SCP-447-2 and its effects on dead bodies out, we'll have to take measures."

"You see, I…" - the researcher was completely scared. He tried to stand up, to save the day, but his legs failed him and the only thing he managed was to shuffle on his chair. "You see, dead bodies…"

"By the way, Alistair," - squinted O5-1. "What exactly happens when the slime from 447 contacts a dead body?"

"Well, I… That's the… This is why it…" - responded the doctor and immediately felt drawn and quartered. The Council wanted the truth and it was high time he came up with something. He couldn't let them in on his secret. That would get him fired in no time. That wasn't really bad except for the termination or the memory removal that usually accompanied the dismissal. Once again he gathered his courage and made a second attempt.

"I'm completely sure I have filed the information about SCP-447-2's effect on dead bodies. And I'm sure that information was in the report, as well as in the experiment log at the time I filed it. Seems like someone redacted the data."

"Whaaat?" - the Council members became slack-jawed. "What do you mean, redacted? Who? How?!"

"It means that someone deleted the relevant information on purpose, but was not fast enough, and thus part of the information eventually spread among the personnel, especially between Class Ds. Because of their monthly termination schedule, the information became corrupted and turned out like that. As for who did it… I have some suspicions. But I want to be sure my opinion stays anonymous."

"The name!" - demanded O5-1

"I suspect the one who captured the object was also the one to redact the information. As far as I know, his past is not really clear and we cannot be entirely sure in his loyalty. You know the man I mean."

Blood drained from the O5's faces. Murmurs rose. Alistair was escorted out of the Council meeting room. After he was left alone in the corridor, he sat right on the floor, wiped the sweat from his brow and reached for his pill box for some validol. He managed to wriggle out of it this time, so he had several months of quiet life ahead - unless Clef finds out who slandered him, that is. It's better that way, anyway. Dr. Alistair could not have told them that he did not conduct any tests of 447-2 on dead bodies. He couldn't have done it, and laughed his colleagues' questions off. Hence all this zombie shit, because he never said anything specific.

Alistair did not conduct any 447-2 tests on dead bodies because he was mortally afraid of them.