The air was warm, and a slight breeze took over the lonely street, as Kyan walked aimlessly. It reminded him of the iconic desert scene, a small bundle of dried branches bouncing across the sandy plains. The thoughts of the deceased, the lost and the stolen were a reoccurring image in his mind. It was a tragedy that had befallen Brooklyn, and could've been easily stopped. The suburban wasteland was now run by a syndicate of cut-throats, a merciless gang of looters and traders. Kyan was not taken with the survivors, his criminal record was taken into account at the time of selection.
The Gregory Hotel was now a graveyard, corpses scattered along the hallwalks.
The train of thought Kyan had boarded was derailed by a bloodcurdling scream, the scream of a human. Kyan peered upward, trying to spot the source of the disturbance. The Sun depriving him of any visual information, he decided to take the long route. The Gregory Hotel.
The walls had their velvet still intact, with the occasional blood spatter and scratch line. Investigating the foyer of the building, he found a small safe box. It was virtually untouched, with the odd dent or two. Slipping it into his backpack, the shriek was heard once more, a bellowing call for help this time. Startled, Kyan stepped over a piece of rubble, clicking the lift button, he tapped his foot anxiously.
Many a time had he been in this building, working his daily newspaper route. That unforgettable day. It had been any normal route, sending the Insider through the mail slot of the neighbourhood readers. He stopped at his final drop-off, setting the bundle of papers unto the desk. Kyan had peered up, at the small television monitor, perched on the wall.
"Good Morning Brooklyn!"
"Timothy Cline, reporting on our top story today. A toxic vile of a virus that is known as 'Callean' has gone missing from the Brooklyn Experimental Laboratories this morning. Our correspondent Lisa Greyson has the latest, Lisa?"
"Thankyou Tim, now disgraced scientist Carl Weyton has gone into hiding today, as the humiliation of losing this experimental breakthrough was televised almost half an hour after this occurred, we had a chat to him earlier."
The interview went on for quite a while, as Kyan tried to absorb what he had just heard. He pulled the shoulder-strap back into place, as he turned to leave the establishment. There, through the glass pane, was a man tearing the skin off of his body, an echoing shriek escaping from his lungs. It was at that moment that the townspeople went into a craze. Pushing each other over, stealing cash and goods, killing one another. Kyan had ridden over to his grandmothers, hiding out for the next few days.
The elevator banked its heavy shaft infront of him, screeching as it stopped. Stepping inside, the cart groaned, the lights flickering. Jolting upward, it moved into motion, almost as smoothly as before. The scream was heard again, but was a call for mercy;
"Stop….enough…."
Kyan pried open the doors, revealing the 3rd floor lobby. A small rectangular area, almost unscathed by the downpour of the diseased. In an attempt to locate the source of the painful calls, he fell on his face, tripping on a fallen potholder.
A demonic howl surrounded him, as his vision blurred, spotting a hunched over humanoid being. It hobbled over to the traveller, as he lost consciousness.