September 28, 2013
Boston, Massachusetts
Two days after the CBI outbreak
[Cars and trucks block all roads leading to highways. Chaos everywhere. Newscaster reads out about the breakout spreading to West coast. In the center of the city, an area that would most likely be described as neglected urban slums. Among all the chaos, a woman is seen seated in a dank apartment building, TV remote in hand, watching the dire news. Her name is Tess, and from her appearance, it is evident that she is in her mid-twenties, with dark hair pulled up in a ponytail. She looks bored, unbothered by all the destruction outside. On closer notice, her black shirt is damp, wet. Red fluid is splattered on the back of her neck. Beside her, a man is dead on the floor, axe sticking out of his neck. It's obvious from the blood on her shirt, and the distance between her and the corpse, that she had committed the act.] She sighs, and mumbles to herself.
Tess: Fucking curfew now.
She looks at the dead body with an air of indifference.
Tess: God knows how you got infected. Wasn't the best way to go. Sorry, pal.
She gets up, switches off the TV. She grabs gloves from a drawer, and after putting on a mask, pulls the axe out of the body. She drags the body across the two-roomed apartment, pulls it through the empty corridor and dumps it out onto the street. The body is seen falling on a pile of corpses, flies and maggots buzzing around it.
Tess comes back to her apartment, locks the door and proceeds to clean the blood. A radio buzzes at the window. A man's voice sounds in the empty room, and she pauses to listen.
Radio: Local news report. Reported death toll rises to twenty within the city. Two hundred reported dead over the country. Boston, following the examples of Chicago, Dallas, New York and Los Angeles, is to be placed under martial law. Local curfew has been announced, effective everyday from 6:30 pm to 9:30 am. Infected have been reported to be wandering round the city and showing up at habitations. The state warns residents to stay inside and lock all doors and windows, and report any signs of infection for immediate action.
Tess stops, sits upright in the center of the apartment, pulls down the mask. She pulls out a drawer in front of her, and from it, extracts a pistol.
Tess: So much for security.
October 20, 2013
Boston, Massachusetts
25 days after the CBI outbreak
Tess stands in the ration line, dressed in an old, long sleeved green sweater and loose jeans. The streets are still chaotic, with lines of residents being led to the Triage, soldiers monitoring discipline, shouting out orders in foul language. A soldier is scanning the people in line one by one. Tess is seen observing a family of three- father, mother, and a daughter who looks no older than ten. The mother looks shaken, and the father tries to console her. The daughter looks clueless, afraid.
Father: We need to hurry. They can't hold us for so long. It's going to be okay.
Mother: Did you see him? That was Marvin. He tried to eat me!
Father: He wasn't Marvin anymore. If he got infected, we can too. We need to be careful.
Daughter: Are we infected, daddy?
Father (stroking her head lovingly, in softer tone): No, honey. The three of us are okay. Just stay with Mommy and Daddy, alright?
The soldier arrives for the scan. The father is scanned, then the mother. When the machine scans the daughter, it buzzes red. Protests and shouts ensue from the parents as the girl is pulled away. Mother falls to the ground, her cries loud and ear-shattering. Tess sees the soldier carrying the crying girl away, taking her inside a booth nearby. The door is closed. A gunshot echoes. A dead silence takes over the lines, as people weep silently and cover their faces in terror. The mother falls to the ground, unconscious.
Tess shuts her eyes, hand clutching her stomach weakly. She breathes and goes ahead, following the ration line to collect her food.
December 26, 2013
Boston, Massachusetts
Three months after the CBI outbreak
The city streets are deserted. Posters of infection warnings and curfew duties plague the walls. Snow falls to the ground, the air is cold and silent. Tess is in the corridor of her apartment, looking out the door. She exchanges a nervous look with her neighbour, a middle-aged black man named Terry. Another door opens further back in the corridor, and a middle-aged white woman looks out. A teenage boy pokes his head out from under her, looking. There's a palpable tension in the air as they all watch the other end of the corridor quietly. The teenage boy whimpers.
A door opens, and a runner steps out, body convulsing and twitching.
Terry (in a whisper): Shit, Loyd is infected. Everybody get inside.
The woman and her son shut their door immediately, and so does Terry. Tess heads back in, grabs her pistol and comes back out. The runner catches her moving, and screams, charging to attack. She shoots thrice, and he falls dead, body twitching on the floor. Terry appears at the door again. He looks shaken, but impressed as he sees Tess with her gun.
Terry: Thank God for you. God bless your soul.
Tess: It was nothing.
Terry: How are you not afraid of these things?
Tess (in a low voice, slipping into distant thought): I've seen people that are worse than these things.
A silence sits between them, where Terry looks at Tess with veneration.
February 18, 2014
Boston, Massachusetts
Five months after the CBI outbreak
A stranger stands in Tess's apartment, facing her form the opposite side of a kitchenette counter. Sun streams in from the window, and illuminates Tess's face. She looks hardened, mature. Her face is gaunt, but an eyebrow cocked in her ever-present look of mockery. She studies the man for a second. He looks older, with white hair and a long, shabby beard. His clothes are tattered, torn and dirty. He looks desperate, afraid.
Tess: Why would I help you?
Stranger: I don't got nobody else. Please! I need to get this to my brother!
Tess: I'm no saint, old man. Why would I risk my life crossing the city for your sake?
Stranger: You did it for Terry last week! He said you delivered a package for him to Area 2!
Tess: I trust Terry. Area 2 is practically the neighbourhood. And, he gave me a damn good payment.
Stranger: Look . . I-I can pay you. My brother, he'll pay you. What do you need?
Tess (with a smirk): Oh yeah? What will you pay me?
Stranger (After a moment of hasty thinking): Ration cards. My brother . . he-he's got ways. He deals with them cards in Area 10. He'll give you cards lasting a month.
Tess says nothing, rolling her tongue inside her mouth. She's in deep thought, looking at the man speculatively.
Tess: Two months.
Stranger (visibly confused): What?
Tess: Rations lasting for two months.
Stranger looks down and around in confusion, and begins to refuse.
Tess: Alright then. Find yourself a real smuggler.
Stranger: There ain't no smugglers in this part of town!
Tess (with a knowing smirk, eyes squinting cunningly): I know.
Stranger looks at her defeated for a while, paces the apartment nervously. Then he accepts reluctantly.
Stranger: Alright. I'll give you one half, and my brother will give you the other.
Tess: Well then, we have a deal. What's his name, and when do I go?
Stranger (appears relieved, and slightly hopeful): Donovan. Just go over to Area 10 and ask the stragglers, they'll tell ya. You gotta get it to him by tomorrow night.
Tess (with a light hand grabbing the stranger's hand in a forced handshake, taking the man by slight surprise): You got yourself a deal. Get me your half of the payment by evening.
Stranger: By evening? But, but I don't got that kinda dough on me!
Tess gives an indifferent shrug, and a look that implies simply that it was a take-it-or-leave kind of deal. The stranger shakes his head, sighing in defeat.
Stranger: Alright. Alright. I'll fix it up somehow. Just . . just get my letter to him.
Tess: Good man.
The stranger leaves. Tess walks around to the refrigerator, pulls out a jar of half-eaten pickles and sits back in her couch. A pistol and a book sit on the table beside her. She takes the book, opens it and scribbles with a pen, mumbling.
Tess: Donovan. Area 10. Ration for two months.
She turns the page to the previous entry, and smirks to herself.
Tess: Guess I'm a smuggler now.
A/N: Tess origin story will continue.