Prologue:

Dennis clasped his head in his wrinkled hands and sighed heavily. He playfully fiddled with his thinning, grey hair and took a deep breath to calm his despair. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and stared at the host of monitors, connected to cameras around the facility, and sighed again.
What the monitors showed was only similar in one way; they each had several people strewn across the floor and tables. Dead. Once they had been his collegues, each with their badges stuck on white lab-coats but their faces were obscured with blood and pus.
A knock echoed from his plain grey door. Ironically, he thought, like the knock of a body collector during the Black Death. He stayed fixed in his black leather chair until the knock echoed again, more urgently this time. And more human.
He hefted himself up and opened the door slowly. In front of him stood Dr Ian Laudrup and Captain Henderson. Both looked like they has seen ghosts, and suffered for that sight.
'Where Catherine?' he asked weakly.
'She shot herself in the night, Dr Stapleton.' replied the Captain coldly. Laudrup whimpered at the news and Dennis collapsed back into his chair. 'There is still time for you two to leave before they put the facility on lock-down.' the soldier continued.
'Leave? And go where? With a mortality rate of approximately 98% we can't escape it. What have we done?' said Laudrup timidly.
'You're right.' said Dennis, 'I think i will stay here and... attempt to create a cure.'
Ironically that is what they had been trying to do in the first place. A cure for modern disease funded by several governments and private enterprises. An accident had happened and only the dead sprawled on the host of monitors knew exactly what had happened and now they were dead.
Dennis thought of his family. He hoped they were among the 2% that would survive. He hoped.