Outbreak

Chapter One

Unknown Location/Time

"I'm gonna change the world!"

Stanley dropped his coloring pencil and looked at his brother, posing in a stance as though he was kneeling with a sword held up high. His sister laughed, sitting on the sofa in their living room. It was a peaceful atmosphere. While their father was away, Pam had been tasked with looking after her young brothers. Stanley always found her fun to be around, even though she was already a junior, and he was still in elementary.

"You can do whatever you want Lane," she said with a smile. "Just don't forget about your brother or me when you do okay?"

Lane nodded before giving Stanley a smirk. "What are you gonna do?"

Stanley hummed for a few minutes as he tapped his chin with his finger to show his thought process. His sister giggled again. "I wanna be ... a hero!" He showed his siblings his drawing of him flying through the air, carrying someone in his arms. It was quite the drawing.

"Wow," said Pam, leaning closer to see what exactly he had drawn. "That's amazing Stanley!"

Stanley smiled. "Thanks." Out of the corner of his eye, his brother Lane looked jealous...

September 13th 2009

7:00 a.m. – Stanley's Loft
Portigon, New Barkham

Stanley dunked the last bit of orange juice into the glass next to his breakfast. The city was slowly coming alive outside. He was already dressed for his job at the architectural firm 'Davis and Glade' where he was going to begin his first drafts of the new town hall. Art was his passion, but he wanted it to have a purpose rather than hang neatly on a wall.

Taking a seat at the table, he switched on the television to see the morning news. He jabbed his sausage with a fork as the local news network appeared.

" – why he began his murderous rampage against the police as they raided his home, and as you can see behind me, two officers were wounded quite badly; one in the neck and the other wounded on both arms. According to witnesses, they had heard screaming sometime around 6:37 this morning and called the police … "

Stanley squinted at the TV, trying to identify the mansion that was on the screen. It looked very familiar and quite spectacular with the sunrise in the distance.

"Police have currently subdued the elderly man, but he had no regard for their attempts to do so, succeeding in taking down an entire family of three who were witnesses at the scene. The local authorities here at Casper Island have currently blocked off Lonsdale and Wilthrow Avenues, so do try to avoid …"

Stanley allowed his sausage to slide off his fork as he registered the word 'Wilthrow'. His brother Lane lived on that avenue, along with his girlfriend Isabel. Quickly, he reached for the phone and dialed their number, wondering if they were aware of what was going on nearby.

"H … hello?" yawned a female voice. It was accented with a hint of Spanish. Stanley's heart elevated and he smiled. It had been almost three weeks since they last talked, and it was really for his own good. He still wasn't over her.

"Hey there. I'm sorry I – I didn't mean to wake you."

"Oh hey Stanley! No it's fine, we're just still a little bit sleepy. What's up?"

"Oh, uh," Stanley muddled up his speech. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and Lane."

"We haven't spoken in a while," she said giggling. "And that's why you decide to call so early in the morning?"

Stanley flushed. "No, no, it's just that something happened near your place, and the police are there. They blocked the whole street off."

"Really?" she said, surprised. He heard footsteps on her end of the line followed by the ruffling of blinds.

"My God, that's Sean's house."

Stanley was confused at whom she was referring to. "Sean? Who's that?"

"Oh, Sean Morton," she said sadly. "Lane knows him from work. He told me yesterday that Sean lost his job at Yoshida. What happened?"

"Do you think that's why he went and attacked all those people?" asked Stanley, intrigued.

"He attacked someone?"

"Yeah, they said on the news." He looked back at the television. "Two officers and a family."

A more gruff voice could be heard faintly on the other end of the line. "Go have a look then," Stanley heard Isabel say quietly.

"Lane's just gone to check it out before he heads out to work. He seems quite angry, I don't know why… I don't think he really knew him that well."

"Angry?" Stanley wasn't surprised. Lane wasn't much of a cheerful person, but then again neither was he. He had quite an unstable relationship with his brother. If it wasn't for Isabel, Stanley was sure they'd never have spoken to each other again after what happened ten years ago.

"Yeah."

Stanley remained silent for a moment, trying to think of a way to prolong the conversation. "So – how've you been?"

"I've been okay I guess. I'm taking the whole week off work while we paint the house, so maybe we can all get together or something sometime this week?"

"I'd like that." He smiled to himself. Lane wouldn't.

He sighed, realizing that it was time the conversation came to an end. "Well, I'd better get ready for work. I'll see you."

"Okay then. Take care. Bye."

"Bye." Stanley hung up, closed his eyes and thumped his head against the wall as though he was punishing himself. He walked straight past the dining table and fell into the couch. One of the officers on the TV was being loaded onto the ambulance. Blood poured out of his neck as he writhed in agony. He shivered as he shut it off. How could an elderly man overpower five people?

"Weird," he muttered. Looking over his shoulder at his steaming sausages, he wasn't sure he could finish it now.

12:07 p.m. – Davis and Glade
Portigon, New Barkham

Stanley was bothered by the news report all morning. He had barely begun his drafts despite his early arrival at eight o'clock. His worry for Isabel had prevented him from doing so. He tapped his pencil on the desk as he thought of her. His high school crush -- it seemed so childish of him to continue having it, but he didn't want to let it go, no matter how much it hurt. He was too drawn to her, ever since their first art class together. He had become afraid that he was becoming stalkerish and obsessive; the main reason he cut all communication with her for the past three weeks. Putting the pencil down, he leaned back in his seat to reminisce their first meeting.

**

He took his seat, dropping his stuff off on the table next to him. A foul mood hung over him, managing to withstand yet another lunchtime of bullies and name calling after being free of them from the summer holidays. He just wanted to be left alone now in his favorite class: art. None of those idiots would dare take this subject, so he was in no danger of encountering any of them in the class. The classroom was almost full. Only his desk and one next to some sort of goth towards the back remained vacant. His fingers drummed impatiently on the desk, wanting to wrap around a pencil and begin scribbling, but the door clicked open and Stanley naturally turned to see. A cute hispanic looking girl had walked in. Stanley was a little intrigued by her, but turned away before she noticed. He was sure she was probably part of a ring of bullies somewhere in the school judging by her beauty. Regardless, he snuck a look at her again. She frowned at the gothic man at the back and made her way over to where Stanley's things were. Swallowing, he hastily shifted aside his accessories, allowing her to take her seat just as the bell rang.

"Hi!" she said with a pleasant smile. She seemed okay.

"Hullo," he mumbled.

She kept her smile as she pulled out her sketchbook. His gaze fell down to see the name written in marker at the top.

"Isabela," he read before looking back up at her. She nodded. "Just Isabel, I don't know why mom thought to add the 'ah' sound." She laughed a bit. "What's your name?"

Stanley cleared his throat. "I'm Stanley -- or Stan, I -- I really don't mind." He reddened a little at his nervous introduction, but she giggled slightly.

"Can I see some of your drawings?" he asked…

**

A knock at the door pulled him out of his flashback. Someone walked through the door.

"Hey." It was his co-worker, Sam.

"Heyya," said Stanley, breaking his relaxed position.

"Sad what happened this morning, innit?"

"You mean the attack on that family and those cops?" asked Stanley, clearing a bit of his desk and shoving it into the drawer. "I didn't know you watched the news…"

"Well, I don't," he admitted. "But this was just real interesting. I'm surprised he took down five people at his age with his bare hands. Makes you wonder what the hell made them stand around while he ran at them huh?"

Stanley pondered aloud. That was what was strange. The only way he could've attacked them is if they just stood without running or fighting back. He doubted he was quick enough to attack five people in quick succession while they struggled.

"Hmm. My brother told me that the old man was a co-worker of his at Yoshida, and that he lost his job or something last night."

"Your brother works at that Yoshida International building downtown?"

"Yeah, he does."

"Oh. Prestigious job huh? You never told me that."

Stanley rolled his eyes. He had. "Yep, he's the VP of Internal Security at their corporate headquarters."

Sam nodded in interest as Stanley tapped his fingers on the desk again, still unable to concentrate on his work. He needed a break.

"Listen," said Stanley. "Could you cover for me, I can't focus right now. I'm just going around the block to get a cup of coffee."

Sam grinned as he folded his arms. "Sure, if you bring something back for me too."

Stanley smirked back as he slipped into his jacket. September… summer was long gone now.

12:21 p.m. – Paulson's Café
Portigon, New Barkham

"Thanks a lot," said Stanley, retrieving both the coffee cups he bought from the teller. He took a sip out of one to bring his mind back into focus before he headed back outside. Across the street was a small crowd of people outside an electronics store. Something seemed to be on the televisions on display, but Stanley didn't have time to go watch. He needed to get back before his boss caught him out. Ignoring the crowd, he made his way back to the firm, but his cell phone began to vibrate.

"Damn," he said, placing one of the cups on top of a postbox on the sidewalk. Fishing his phone out, caller ID told him it was Isabel.

"Hello."

"Oh, Stanley thank god!" cried her voice on the other end. There was a lot noise in the background. It sounded a lot like shrieking.

"Hi, what's up? Sounds busy."

Isabel was breathing heavily. "We need help, please!"

Stanley's eyebrows narrowed. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

She sobbed. "Please! There're people in the building, and they're … attacking everyone they see downstairs. I can't reach Lane so I thought I'd call you."

"Why, where's Lane?"

"He – he was charging his cell phone back at home and he's not answering at his office."

"Okay, um," Stanley said, thinking quickly of a solution. "Try to find some place to hide and call 911 alright?"

"We've tried Stan! The lines are busy!"

"Okay…" He was getting more worried by the second. She sounded petrified. Why would 911 be too busy to handle some attackers where Isabel was? He glanced over at the crowd by the electronics store again. "Alright, I'm going over there now. Where are you? Are you at home?"

"No, I'm at Nadia's place. You remember where it is right?"

Stanley began pacing back to the parking lot, forgetting Sam's coffee on top of the postbox. Nadia; her longtime friend. Stanley was a pretty good friend of hers also. "Yeah, but what are you doing over there?"

"I was just visiti – oh god, they're coming up the stairs. Please Stanley, get help!"

"Isabel? Wait."

But the call abruptly ended.

"Hello? Hello!?"