Prologue
Claire adjusted the camera on its stand so that the recorder would sit evenly and flipped the digital display around, peering into the lens to make sure that the view was focused appropriately. Satisfied that the video settings were to her liking she crossed the short space to the stool that she had pulled aside and took a seat. Her bloodshot eyes lost their mark to the blinking red light for a moment, lost in a haze of discordinate thought. Under the flickering fluorescents the camera caught her sickly pallor, her paling lips, and the thin sheen of sweat that clung to her brow. With a shuddering sigh and a tremble in her weakening shoulders she began her story.
"My name is Claire Bennet. It's March 27, 2007, and one week ago today a man named Adam Monroe released the Shanti Virus in Odessa, Texas. We - we thought that we could contain the virus inside of the vault at Primatech, but nobody knew…" Claire's glazed eyes drifted again until she regained her concentration. "Strain 138 was developed by the Company to be a fail-safe. Something to use in a worst case scenario." She dropped her chin with a sardonic smile and another shiver. "Well, they got what they wanted. This is the worst case scenario.
"The virus crossed over into the general population two days after it escaped. It became air-borne the day after that. We're doing everything that we can to find a cure, but 138 is immune to both Mohinder Suresh's antibodies and my blood.
"All of the U.S. is currently under quarantine. The borders are closed, and all of the airports have been shut down. The - the," she gave off a full body shudder and turned away from the camera's direct view to wipe a small dribble of dark red blood from her nose. "The military is keeping everyone out of the streets. People are barricaded in their homes. Or at least that's the way it was before communications died. There hasn't been a news report in two days. There's nothing on the TV or radio. We don't know anything that's going on outside of ground zero anymore."
Claire swept a rogue lock of lifeless hair from where it fell in her eyes back into an untidy ponytail. "Someone -" she violently coughed into her hand, wiping away the flecks of blood that tarnished her skin onto her jeans afterward. "Someone told me that it was my job to help keep history alive. That it was up to us to make sure that people never forgot. I guess maybe that's what I'm doing here." She let slip a feeble smile for her own futile intentions. "For all I know this is the end of the world and there's nobody left to save… But if someone finds this… You all need to know what really happened here. And you deserve to know that there were people that did everything they could to stop it.
"I don't know how long we have left. There's only a couple of us now. But we'll keep trying - keep fighting until it's over." Another harsh cough lead to a turbulent lurch in her stomach. Her eyes opened wide for the camera a second before the heave brought up a slosh of black-red blood to splash over the cement floor. Amidst a slew of choked coughing and strangled gasps for air Claire fell from her stool landing with a dull thud.
Sounds of gagging and pained whimpers continued to be recorded by the camera even though its subject had disappeared from sight. "Claire?" A flash of blonde passed within view of the lens as Adam rushed to her aide. He tugged her limp form into his arms, rocking her back and forth in what was meant to be soothing movements while he whispered reassurances that were muffled from the video. "Peter!" he cried out in panic when her head lolled around to flop onto his shoulder.
"Turn that thing off," a low, velvety baritone growled from somewhere behind the camera. "No one needs to see her like this." The world fell sideways for a moment when the tripod was tipped over sending the recorder sliding across the floor. Static fuzz crackled across the screen before picking up another angle showing a pair of black men's boots, a smaller white sneaker, and faint traces of electric blue sparks.
"One - two - three - four - five," Peter counted out. "Breathe!"
"Nothing," Adam panted worriedly.
"One - two - three," Peter cycled his compressions again. "Breathe!"
"Still nothing."
"One - two - three… Come on, Claire! Breathe!"
"Clear!" An electrical surge lit up the camera's screen with a charged sizzle before the power grid popped leaving pitch-black in its wake.