Chapter One - The Soldier

Nick stared into the back of the soldier's head, so focused he wondered if she could feel it burning into her. She turned to look around and met his gaze, staring back for a moment before her attention was drawn to an approaching officer. Nick watched the exchange between the military personnel with interest. Of all the soldiers who stood guard throughout the day, he was certain that this one didn't want to be here. As the officer finished giving his orders and turned to leave, Nick watched her face drop from attentive obedience, to disapproval.

"Here."

He had drifted off into a withdrawal-induced stupor, and even now found it difficult to process her sudden change in proximity. He looked blankly at the bottle of water she was holding out to him.

"Drink it."

"What?"

"You need to keep your fluids up."

Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position and accepted the offer, eyeing her suspiciously as he drank. She seemed to find something amusing about this.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, taking in the bruises that covered his face.

He put down the bottle, reached for the bucket, and vomited up what little liquid he had managed to get down.

"That good, huh?"

She glanced over at the cells other occupant, a meaningful exchange that even in his daze, Nick did not fail to notice. He looked over at his latest acquaintance, Victor Strand. Strand returned the soldier's gaze in a not entirely pleasant manner.

"They'll be doing checks any moment now. Get yourself cleaned up, try to move around a little if you can. Maybe throw up a little less."

"Thanks for the advice," he replied sarcastically, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He pulled himself to his feet, grimacing as he was hit by another wave of nausea and pain. "Hey, wait. Why are you looking out for me?"

She glanced at Strand, then replied, "It's the right thing to do, right?"

The resentment in her voice made Nick question her belief in the statement.

"I'd do as she says," Strand suggested, "Because you better hope they don't take you away."

Nick frowned and turned back to the soldier, deep in thought.

"What happens to the people they take away?"

She stared at him, but gave no reply.

"Hey, what's your name, anyway?" he asked as she turned back to her post.

She considered him for a moment. "Sergeant Attebury. Why does it matter?"

"No, I know that, I meant like your real name." He paused, attempting to organize his drug-deprived thoughts before correcting himself, "Your, uh, first name."

She paused, as if trying to work out the purpose of his question.

"Lumen," she finally replied.

"Lumen…" He tested the name on his tongue and found something satisfying about it. "Why do you care, anyway? What happens to me?"

"Because I know what happens to the ones they take away, okay, kid? Here's another suggestion: don't ask so many questions. Or it'll get you one of these."

She pointed to the fading, purple bruise around her eye, which he had been politely ignoring since their first interaction.

"I think you've gotten the wrong idea," Strand said later, as Lumen disappeared into the makeshift office behind the pens. Nick craned his neck to see where she had gone, fingers clawed against the metal chain-link fence that caged them.

"What do you mean?" he asked, rattling the metal restlessly.

"Would you stop that? I mean that she isn't showing favoritism. She's been this way with all of them."

Nick frowned, but his curiosity in her whereabouts did not falter. "So what does that mean?"

"That she may be useful. People with consciences are easily persuaded. So long as you can convince them that they're doing the right thing. Or the wrong thing."

Nick turned to look at him, frowning, then heard the office door slam closed.

Several soldiers, Lumen included, approached their pen carrying the point-and-shoot thermometers they'd been using to determine each prisoner's status. Lumen stood to the back of the group, rifle in hand, carefully monitoring the results as she had dozens of times before. Seeing the group of armed men, Nick backed away, taking a seat in the corner to appear inconspicuous.

"You, stand by the fence," said the one who appeared to be in charge; the man who had given orders to Lumen earlier that night.

Strand stood with an air of dignity, straightening his suit jacket, and approached the fence, waiting for the indicative beep to sound his fate.

"This one's fine", the soldier announced.

The officer pointed to Nick, who had sat with his back to them, overcome with another wave of nausea. Lumen glanced over the man's shoulder at the readout on the thermometer. Strand watched disappointment cross her face.

"101.1. Get him up."

Nick jumped as they unlocked the gate and was on his feet the second he realized what they were doing, fighting off the men as they made and attempt to grab him. From her position next to her superior, Strand could see Lumen experiencing an internal dilemma. Her grip tightened on her rifle as she watched the soldiers beat Nick to the ground as he continued to resist.

"The boy's not sick, Melvin."

"Anyone with a fever goes downstairs."

Strand approached the fence, gripping the metal as Nick had earlier.

Lumen glanced at the two men, then back at Nick, who looked to her for help.

"I'm not sick, tell them. I'm not sick!"

"Sir, he's just going through withdrawal. It's not going to kill him. He's not a risk"

"You know the rules, Attebury," the Lieutenant replied, looking at her with suspicion. "We gonna have another problem? You wanna make this strike two?"

He caught the corner of her mouth twitch as she narrowed her eyes. She remembered strike one all too clearly.

"You found our last transaction to your liking?" Strand said to the lieutenant, a touch of urgency to his voice, managing to lure his gaze from Lumen. She noticed for the first time, the gold watch on her C.O.'s wrist. She'd seen this sort of bribery many times now since the infection had broken out; officers allowing the infected rich through the quarantine borders for a large payoff, leaving the healthy lower-class to their cruel captivity. Her grip on the gun tightened once more.

"A deal's a deal," the officer told Strand, with a smirk, "No refunds."

"I realize that. What I'm suggesting is an additional transaction."

He flashed a diamond-studded cufflink, catching the man's attention immediately.

"Leave the boy. I'll watch him."

The lieutenant considered the offer.

"Where's the other one?"

"Somewhere in Vegas, I believe. Very unfortunate-"

"Yeah, see, I want them both, or no deal."

Strand exchanged the briefest of glances with Lumen. She met his gaze momentarily before turning back to Nick, who had already been dragged halfway down the corridor. Strand nodded and removed both cufflinks, dropping them into the hands of his grinning customer.

"If he turns, it's your ass," he said, dropping his new possessions into his shirt pocket.

"Think he'll stop there?"

Lieutenant Melvin chuckled as he signaled his men to return the prisoner to his pen, securing the gate behind them. Strand watched them move off, Lumen at the rear, this time failing to mask her disgust over the behavior of her commanding officer.

It won't be long, Strand thought, watching her knuckles turn white as she kept her gaze trained forward. He turned back to Nick, who was still shaking from the ordeal.

"Don't hold it against her. There's nothing she could have done, short of getting on her knees. She doesn't strike me as the type."

A commotion sounded from one of the furthermost pens. Nick managed to crawl over to the fence, peeking through from beside Strand, who took in the scene without emotion. The soldiers dragged a man, kicking and screaming, out into the walkway, beating him into submission. Even from a distance, Nick could make out the additional cries of a woman and child; the man's family.

"Please! Please! No! Please!"

The woman's appeals went unheard, as the limp, bleeding body of her husband was dragged away towards the back room, where so many had gone before him.

Nick watched as Lumen locked the pen behind them, staring down into the face of the little girl she had just denied a father. For a moment he thought he caught something flicker across her features, then her expression hardened and she followed the others through the heavy double-doors.

"How long have you been doing this for?" Nick asked the following evening, as Lumen returned to her usual position by his pen.

"Denying humans their basic rights? Just over ten years, now."

"What made you want to join? Did your parents serve?"

"No. They weren't very thrilled about it, really. I joined to help people. Fix things. Help create world peace. That sort of naïve bullshit only a teenager can believe. If I knew this was the sort of shit I'd eventually be doing…"

She kept her gaze trained forward, occasionally glancing around to ensure no other soldiers were within earshot. Whenever they walked past, she would stop, exchanging the briefest of nods with them before they carried on their way. There was a strict 'No fraternization rule' between prisoners and soldiers. She had never much cared for it.

"What happens to the people you take away?"

His voice had gone soft, and she could hear subtle fear to it. She considered her reply, but couldn't think of a way to phrase it that wasn't upsetting.

"I was in the hospital not long ago, before all this, when things were just starting," Nick said, "And there was this old guy in the bed across from me. He started convulsing, and they barely even tried to save him. They were in such a hurry to get him downstairs. What's downstairs? The morgue, right?"

"In a hospital? Usually."

"Why were they in such a hurry?"

She turned to look at him, battling with how much to tell him.

"You've never seen one turn?"

He shook his head, curious. "No."

"Usually it's the bites that do it, or the resulting infection, I should say. Can take anywhere from a couple of hours, to a few days. It's better when it's quick. But I've seen people come back from gunshot wounds. I don't think it matters how you die."

"What is it?"

"I've heard a few different theories."

"Like what?"

The squeal of the gate brought their conversation to a halt. Strand, who had been listening in, watched as the soldiers wheeled in carts of food. Since the military zones were following strict rationing protocols, the best they could expect to receive was watered down soup with the occasional chunk of potato, and what he supposed passed as bread. The bread looked as though whoever had made it was not familiar with its usual color and consistency, settling for the lumpy, grey ball that he had learned to make do with. He was a very strong believer in the 'beggars can't be choosers' adage, but found it laughable that this was the way the military maintained a clear conscience; providing their prisoners with the barest of minimums, despite knowing where most of them would eventually end up.

Lumen exchanged a few words with one of the privates pushing the carts, and he nodded as she shouldered her weapon, allowing her to take over. The soldier chuckled at something she said and she smiled at how easy it had been to persuade him, watching him walk away before moving off with the food. She passed the first few trays through to the waiting prisoners, dodging as one of them decided to throw their dinner back at her. The soup was served cold for this very reason, but the simple act of aggression drew a couple of guards to the pen.

"It's alright," she assured them, looking to the woman, who scowled. Beneath the scowl she could see the fear and uncertainty that had driven the attack.

"You can't keep us locked up like this, you evil bitch. Let us out! We have rights!"

Lumen stared at her, a bemused smile on her face.

"The right to remain silent. That's a good one. Maybe try that."

"Fuck you! We're dying in here!"

"One missed meal isn't going to kill you. And it wouldn't be missed if you hadn't just thrown it at me."

The prisoner rattled the fence, emitting a frustrated growl. The young soldiers stepped forward, but Lumen held up a hand to halt them. They stared at their sergeant, awaiting orders.

"It's alright. Leave her be. Please, just eat it next time. We're doing the best we can for all of you in here. Don't make it any worse for yourself."

The prisoner just stared at her, unsure how to take this. She seemed surprised that her aggression was not met with the same from her captors, as she had witnessed so many times before. Lumen waited for the soldiers to turn back to their positions, before crouching down to retrieve the bread roll that had managed to find its way under the cart.

Strand watched from the fence as she paused, looked around, then stood up again, placing the roll back on the cart. When she finally reached his pen, he saw her swap his roll with the contaminated one. She gave him a meaningful look as she passed it through and he accepted, curious.

"Nick, come get something to eat."

Nick stared at her, looking a little paler than usual.

"Come on. At least this'll look the same coming up as it does going down."

Grimacing, he pushed himself to his feet and took the tray, sniffing the soup and looking to her for confirmation that it was indeed edible.

"What do they give you guys to eat?" he asked, settling back down on his makeshift bed.

"Lobster and steak, usually," she joked.

Strand took a seat, staring at the dust-speckled bread, noting the small hole in its side. Tearing it in half, he saw a glint of silver.

"Enjoy," she told them, pushing the cart back towards the awaiting soldiers.

Nick looked over at Strand as he took a bite of his own lumpy grey meal, and saw him pocket something small.

"What's that?" he asked through his mouthful.

"That would be Sergeant Attebury's ticket to freedom."

Nick frowned and swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"This is the first step to a plan I have had in the works for a while now, Nick. Ending up in here was admittedly not part of the original plan, but I've always found myself quite easily able to adapt. Lumen has now found herself included in said plan, as have you."

"Me? Why? Do you need an addict?" He gave a small, self-deprecating smile as he spooned through his soup, not feeling particularly hungry after that first bite.

"Don't sell yourself short, Nicholas. As an addict, you're familiar with necessity. That means you have a talent for acquiring things. Doubtless you will prove quite useful. As for Lumen- "

"You need a body guard?" he guessed.

"Not quite. Though her combat training, I'm sure, will also be beneficial for us. I've been watching her since I arrived. She's not like the others I've seen pass through. She doesn't get anything from this. The others? It's a power game. You saw that lieutenant, how easy he was to bribe. She isn't. I know. I've tried."

He stirred his soup before spooning up a mouthful.

"So what does that mean?"

"She's right. You do ask a lot of questions. It means she can't be bought. People like that are hard to come by these days. Get them on your side and you'll have the kind of loyalty that will keep you alive in times like these. Also, she's dangerous. Her superiors don't seem to notice, but she loses more and more faith in them as each day passes. But she's not stupid. She's not about to compromise herself. This isn't what she signed on for. She said so herself, right?"

"Yeah. But, I mean, I don't think she's about to go postal on her superior officers."

"I never said she was crazy, Nick. Just dangerous. There's a difference. And it's not always a bad thing."

Nick stared at him, attempting to get through another mouthful of bread, his soup having lost its appeal after Lumen's comment. It was hard enough as it was to keep anything down with the stink of piss and vomit all around them,

"So when does this plan of yours go into effect?"

"When the time is right. Not a second sooner."

Feeling his stomach lurch, Nick placed his roll back down on the tray, dropping his head as he began to feel the familiar wave of sickness. When it finally passed, he got to his feet and paced up and down the length of the pen, taking in the fluorescent lighting above, the cold, grey steel that surrounded them and the prisoners in the cage opposite. A disheveled woman stared back at him, clutching a small, sickly child. He offered her a sympathetic nod, but she turned away. Moving to the gate, he craned his neck to find their soldier, and spotted her a little further down the corridor, standing in front of the same pen they had removed the man from the night before. She was gazing in at the little girl he had left behind, ignoring the girl's mother, who was screaming an endless stream of questions about her husband's whereabouts.

Lumen didn't flinch, but continued to stare blankly at the child. When she finally turned away, rifle in hand, her jaw tense, Nick caught a sense of deep loathing in her. As much as he wanted to believe he would act differently if he were in her position, that he would refuse any orders that would result in the death of innocent people, he also wondered if that were true. He had always been selfish, he could admit that – it was a classic trait of an addict. So long as you were getting your fix, why worry about your loved ones having sleepless nights as they waited on that dreaded phone call from the morgue. No. He didn't think he would be able to stick his neck out for strangers, no matter how drastic the situation.

Lumen walked towards him, eyes on the ground, deep in thought. He almost didn't want to break her from it, wondering what was going on behind those sharp eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Every time he managed to rope her into another conversation, he wanted to ask about the sort of things she'd witnessed, what it was like on the frontline during all of this, but deep down he didn't know if he could handle the answer.

"Not hungry?" she asked, nodding to his abandoned dinner.

"Not really. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, giving one of the least convincing smiles he had ever seen. "How are you feeling?"

"Um, alright I guess." He gazed at her, concerned, and looked to Strand, who was too busy placing his bowl neatly on his tray to notice anything.

"You know, I never asked how you got those bruises."

He looked back, forgetting he even had any. His hand went to his face as he recalled the circumstances in which he had received them.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd have said it was one of ours. The fresh ones, anyway. But I noticed them when they brought you in."

"It was…nothing."

"You just woke up like that, huh?"

He chuckled awkwardly.

"It's…I haven't been a very good son, I guess."

"Your father hit you?" she frowned, as he sat back down.

"No. He passed away a few years ago."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay." He dropped his gaze, hands wrapped around his legs, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"So it was your mother?"

"She had her reasons."

"They always do."

He looked up, just able to make out her own shiner from beneath her long, dirty blonde fringe.

"How'd you get yours?"

Her mouth quirked up in the corner. "Disobeying orders."

"No kidding."

She smiled at him, realizing that he had become familiar with that aspect of her character.

"Do I want to know what the orders were?"

"Probably not. Technically they're classified, anyway."

"Technically?"

She cocked an eyebrow then turned to face forward once more.

"So what were you doing in the hospital?"

"I got hit by a car."

"Were you high at the time?"

"Um, sort of. I mean, most of it was out of my system by then. I was just…running."

"From what? Life? Yourself? Adult responsibilities?"

"A church."

"Shit, Nick, I've been doing that my whole life."

"No, it was more… what was in the church."

"Which was?"

"A lot of death."

She turned again to look at him, catching his distant expression, then glanced over at Strand who was now listening in. He didn't like to interject himself into the conversations, instead quietly absorbing the important bits of information for later use.

"That's a part of life now. Well, it always has been. But now it's all out in the open. Civilians freaking out because what they were fine with behind closed doors is now being shoved under their noses. Can't ignore it when it's literally on your doorstep."

"Death is a hard concept for most people to accept," Strand commented, "Everyone likes to think that they're invincible. Don't want to face the fact that all that time they've wasted can't be bought back."

Nick stared off into space, contemplating how much of his own life had been spent at the end of a needle.

"That's something," Lumen agreed, "Every dying person I've stood by always says the same thing. 'I wish I'd done this, I wish I hadn't done that'. Well, that and the classic 'Tell my mom I love her'. It's usually the regrets though."

"And what do you regret, Lumen?" Strand asked curiously, a touch of humor to his voice.

"Starting this conversation," she retorted, and he chuckled.

"What about your family?" Nick asked, coming out of his trance.

"What about them?"

"Where are they?"

"My brother died when I was younger. My parents…they were on the list of deceased from the first wave."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Really. So is it just you and your mom?"

"I've got a sister, too. Alicia. I kind of think she hates me."

"Siblings have a funny way of showing they care."

"What happened to your brother?"

"Car accident."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Shitty way to go."

"How old were you?"

"About your age."

"Were you close?"

Lumen stared at the wall behind the opposite pen.

"I didn't get to see much of him growing up. He was always disappearing."

"I'm sure my sister could relate."

She made a non-committed sound of acknowledgement.

"What about that lady you came in with? Salazar? Bit of a stretch from Clark. Not related I'm assuming."

"Oh. No. Kind of a long story."

"Did you have somewhere to be?" she asked.

He smiled, pulling at the loose thread on his blanket.

"My mum's boyfriend turned up with some strays. I guess his family were the strays. The Salazar's took them in during the riots."

"His family?"

"Well, he's divorced. Moved in with us not long ago. He went to get his son. And his ex-wife, I guess. Liza. You might have met her. She's helping out in here somewhere."

"The nurse. Yeah, I remember her coming in with you guys."

"They all turned up at our place. Not long after that, you guys showed."

She glanced at him over her shoulder and he realized she didn't like being lumped into that group.

"Three families under one roof. How did that go for you?"

"I don't know. Didn't pay much attention. I was too busy looking for my next high."

He watched her cock her head, a quick motion of acceptance. She could admire his honesty at least.

"I get along with Chris, though. He's alright."

"That your mom's boyfriend?"

"Nah, step-brother. Travis is okay, though."

"That's something."

"He's good for mum, I think. She needs that."

"What were you saying about a 'first wave'?" Strand interrupted, as if they had sidestepped the more important thing.

"The first wave was the very initial breakouts. In most cities it started with the homeless and the junkies." She glanced briefly at Nick, but he seemed unfazed by the term. "Those that died from exposure or overdose. Stories started to come out about people walking around in a daze, erupting into unprovoked violence. The first wave was supposed to be controlled by the police and SWAT."

"What wave are we in now?" Nick asked.

"Second. That's where we step in. Do what the police and SWAT couldn't. Get things under control."

"And?" asked Strand, "Are they?"

She cocked her head again, considering.

"Depends on your definition of-"

Gunfire erupted from outside and they froze, listening. The lights flickered for a moment and went out.

"What's that?" Nick asked.

Checking her weapon and flicking off the safety, Lumen glanced at Strand and replied, "That would be the third wave. Wait here. I'll be back for you both."

She disappeared through the doors, other soldiers following in hot pursuit, armed and ready to fight.

Strand stood and calmly straightened his tie, then his cuffs.

"What do we do?"

"Do as the good lady said. We wait. But not too long. We can't rely on her making it back here. I have what I need from her."

Nick frowned. The thought of her not making it back hadn't even crossed his mind. Strand was looking confused, patting his pockets, searching. He looked to Nick and saw him holding out the key with a crooked smile.

"You continue to surprise me, Nicholas."

He took it from him and unlocked the gate.