This is a story I originally wrote in 2008, back in high school. 2008 is pre-Sacrifice, naturally, so this story is going to have very little to do with those origins (although I changed as much as I could to mesh better with the Sacrifice).
"Hold the elevator! Please!" The young woman called from across the lobby. Pizza under one arm, a veritable mountain of schoolbooks under the other, she jogged across the room as quickly as she could. Mr. Gutierrez, the middle-aged, Hispanic receptionist, could be seen suckling at his post, though the woman didn't notice.
Louis Randall reached out, stopping the closing elevator doors with his hand. The young woman smiled up at him as she hurried into the elevator. "Thanks," She panted.
"What floor?" Louis asked.
"Third," The woman replied. She leaned against the elevator wall, brushing brunette hair out of her eyes, and catching her breath.
Louis raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Third? That's my floor! You just move here, or something?"
"Kinda," The young woman started readjusting the things she held in her arms. Louis grabbed the pizza. "Let me hold this for you," He said.
She smiled gratefully, blushing a little as she moved all of her school books into one hand. She then took back the pizza. "I'm staying with a friend for a couple weeks. Do you know Rachel Smith?"
"Yeah, I know Rachel." Louis replied. The elevator doors opened, and they both stepped out.
"I'm Zoey, by the way." The woman attempted to offer her hand, but gave up after nearly dropping her books.
Louis nodded a reply. "I'm Louis, pleased to meet you."
Smiling, and still blushing, Zoey walked down the hall to her door, which was four doors down from Louis'. The man approached his own door, taking out his key and unlocking it. He watched the young woman fumble with her lock before finally getting the key in. She cast him one final, awkward smile, and then disappeared into her room. Louis, smiling himself, walked into his house.
He lived in a spacious apartment, sparsely decorated with postmodern furniture from the Ikea catalogue. His living room was sunken half a foot. Doors to his right led to his bathroom and bedroom, and a kitchen and dining space stood on his left. Sliding glass doors led out to a deck, which looked out upon the streets of Fairfield, Pennsylvania. All in all, it was a fantastic abode, and had been a real steal at the price he had bought it for. His house was a large source of pride for him, and for that reason it was much tidier than the average bachelor's apartment would be. The only exception to this was the dining table, which had his laptop resting on it with a mess of cords.
Louis approached the table and dropped his suitcase on the chair. He also took off his black suit jacket, and hung it on the back of the chair. There was a mirror on the wall nearby, and he looked into it, smiling at his reflection.
A bald, twenty-six year old black man smiled back at him, wearing a white, buttoned shirt and red tie.
" 'I'm Louis, pleased to meet you' ", he repeated into the reflection, analyzing his face and body as he did so. "Think I made a good impression," he muttered, and then he turned away from the mirror.
Turning on the TV, Louis sank into a black, leather chair and relaxed. The news was on, and an attractive news lady was talking about a new strain of rabies that had been reported from a test monkey bite at a military testing facility. Louis paid this little mind, however, as his mind was on more important things.
He had started working out a few months ago, going so far as to buy an exercise machine for his room, and that hard work was obviously beginning to pay off. Over the course of the day he had gotten second glances from a couple of the attractive young interns, and he was sure that Zoey, this new girl in his building, had noticed. On a side note, his boss had commented on a noticeable improvement in his work, and hinted at a possible promotion to the management job. Nothing could bring Louis' day down, especially not killer rabies strains from half a state away, or whatever other depressing news the anchorman threw his way.
After the news, Louis pulled his laptop out of his suitcase and went to work on a side job he was doing for his boss, as a way of earning a little more favour. He was still in high spirits, and barrelled through the work, finishing earlier than expected. With time to kill, he sent an e-mail out to Florida, to touch base with his brother, and then surfed the Internet, all the while wondering if he should call Zoey. He had Rachel's number in his phone, from a night a few months previous when they had driven out to a party together; it was one of the only nights they had hung out as friends. Would it be an intrusion to call that number looking for her roommate? As Louis was puzzling over this, however, the situation resolved itself. There was a knock on his door.
"Louis? You home?" It was definitely Zoey; her voice was unmistakeable. Louis smiled to himself as he crossed the apartment to the door, and opened it.
Sure enough, Zoey was standing there, her hands clasped in front of her shyly. Her face was bright red.
"I was wondering if you'd like to come watch a couple movies with us," She said. Louis grinned. "Sure, that sounds great! I'll come right over."
Ten minutes later, he was in the apartment that Zoey was sharing with Rachel. Rachel was a thin, attractive blonde woman who appeared to be Zoey's age. When Louis asked, Rachel told him that she and Zoey went to high school together, before Rachel moved out to the city to pursue a career in modelling.
"What do you do, Zoey?" Louis asked. "Are you still in school?"
"I'm a freshman in university; Film major and Sociology minor." She replied. "What about you?"
"I'm a junior analyst for a major IT company." Louis replied, smiling at her uncomprehending expression. "Don't worry about it, I don't even know what I do half the time."
Zoey and Rachel both seemed to find this highly amusing; they burst into hysterics. While their levity was definitely exaggerated, it helped ease the tension. Before today, Louis had never really spoken to Rachel, even though they had lived across from each other for a few months. The aforementioned party they had gone to had been that of a mutual acquaintance.
They talked for awhile longer, sharing pizza and some beer, and then settled down to watch some horror movies. Zoey and Rachel sat on each side of Louis on the couch; the entire atmosphere reminded him of the frat parties he went to in college.
Rachel was asleep after the first movie; a thriller where a masked knife murderer hunted down some schoolgirls. Zoey, a self-proclaimed horror-monger, started to nod off toward the middle of the second movie, which featured zombies overtaking a group of survivors in a mall.
Louis finally felt Zoey's head come to rest on his right shoulder as a snobby former mall manager's head was smashed like a melon onscreen, and he felt her breathing regulate in sleep shortly afterward. It was 2:30. Louis watched the movie to the bloody end, and then got up to leave, waking Zoey up in the process.
"I had fun," Louis told Zoey as he walked to the door. "We should do this again sometime."
She gave him an awkward hug, and then he went down the hall to his apartment. Wiped, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Louis woke up at six the following morning, Tuesday. Pulling himself out of bed, he shut off his blaring alarm and got up to shower. In the bathroom, he stopped at the mirror to admire his muscular body, including a stomach which, although soft, was finally flat, with no traces of a gut.
Better tone it down, Lou, he thought as he showered himself. The narcissism is bordering on self-obsession, now.
He hadn't gotten much sleep the last night, thanks to the girls next door. He'd had a great time, and the excursion was well worth it, but it still took a toll on his body and his spirits. "I'm not a kid anymore," he said to himself as he shaved. Looking at himself in the mirror afterward, with his sensible bald head, clean shaven features and wearing his work clothes, he realized just how distant his frat days had become. He felt a tinge of melancholy at this realization, but then quickly brushed it off. He may not be able to bounce back as well after a few beers, but the apartment and the respect he got on the street were well worth it. He whistled as he entered the elevator.
"Good morning, Louis." Mrs. Potts, the day receptionist, said as he exited the lobby.
"Morning," He replied, cutting the whistles off as soon as he saw the pounding rain outside. He didn't bring his umbrella, or a hat, and didn't want to go back up to get either. With a sigh, he stepped out into the rain, pulling the grey trench coat he wore tighter around him.
The city streets were nearly deserted. The people on the streets, bundled in jackets or hunched under umbrellas, were hurrying to and fro.
"Taxi!" Louis called, hailing the yellow cab that was approaching. The vehicle sped up, driving past him. He muttered a curse, and waited for the next cab to come by.
It was ten minutes until he managed to find a ride, but the dry interior of the taxicab was a welcome reprieve to the wet weather outside. Wiping his soaked, bald head with an equally wet sleeve, Louis gave the cab driver the directions to his workplace. The cab driver uttered an affirmation, and then turned on the radio.
"This new strain of rabies seems to be more serious than the authorities previously thought, with the estimated 5% mortality rate among humans actually being closer to 20%. Mercy Hospital has recently been closed to the public, to serve as a quarantined care center for those who have been infected with the strain, and to serve as a potential headquarters while scientists work to find a cure..."
"There any music stations on there?" Louis asked the cab driver. "This rabies virus is all I've been hearing about for days."
"This is a music station, my friend." The cabbie replied. "They've been putting PSA's out over almost every bandwidth." Nevertheless, he changed to a smooth jazz station, and soon a lone saxophone was serenading the cab space.
"That's better than nothing, I guess." Louis muttered to himself, staring out at the stormy street. He noticed it seemed quite deserted for a weekday, but chalked it up to the storm.
The rest of the day went by slowly and painfully, and yesterday's successes were soon rendered a bitter, sad memory. To thank Louis for taking on the side project and going to it with such enthusiasm and efficiency, the boss assigned him three more projects to be completed by the end of the week, on top of his normal work load. One of the pretty female interns came down with some kind of illness and didn't show up to work. The other intern showed up, but she, too, appeared to be very sick, showing flu-like symptoms. Not wanting to catch any kind of infection with such a cumbersome workload on his shoulders, Louis avoided her all day, despite how much he needed the ego boost her compliments gave him.
Louis was in a bad mood when he taxied home. He didn't run into Zoey in the lobby or hallway, and locked himself in his apartment all evening, slugging away at the work that he had been given. He could hear the television in the background.
"The more we know about this rabies virus, which scientists have dubbed the Green Flu, the better equipped we will be to combat it. It's been confirmed that Green has been released into the general population. Its early stages can be recognized through symptoms similar to those of a common cold or a flu. As the virus progresses, however, other symptoms will exhibit themselves. These other symptoms include depression, agitation, shortness of temper and, in some cases, acute insanity. Authorities are doing all they can to contain the virus, but at this stage it is up to the public to take pains to protect themselves, including washing your hands several times daily. If you start to exhibit symptoms of Green, it is crucial that you make as little human contact as possible, and report yourself to the nearest hospital or medical center..."
Louis shut the TV off, and turned on the radio to an all-music satellite station, where he was treated to soft alt-rock.
There was a knock on the door. Peering through the peephole, Louis saw Zoey standing outside, fidgeting and staring at the floor, her features grotesquely distorted through the convex lens.
Louis opened the door. "Hello," He said, forcing a smile.
"Hi," Zoey replied, brushing her hair out of her eyes and kicking one of her feet nervously. "I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to go out for a coffee or something?"
"That would be great!" Louis replied, forcing his smile into a grin. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass. My boss has swamped me with work." His grin became apologetic. "Can I take a raincheck though? Tomorrow, perhaps?"
"Oh," Disappointment crossed Zoey's face, but she forced a smile of her own anyway. "Yeah, I understand. Tomorrow sounds good!"
With a quick goodbye he shut the door on her, and then rested his head on the wooden surface and groaned in aggravation. He turned to his laptop, sitting on the dining table. The sleek, chrome device was flipped open. Lines of documentation seemed to gaze at him mockingly. He loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and prepared to get to work. "At least," he muttered as he crossed the spacious, beautifully-maintained apartment, "this week can't get any worse."
He would never have been able to comprehend how wrong that statement was.
