A/N: New story. Dark story. Weird story with awkward pairings and every single character in lost used in some way if I can. Eventually there will be main character deaths. Like main main character deaths. I'm gonna say it again because I think that it's important. This story is going to be very dark. So if you don't like, don't read it.
Also please don't confuse thsi with The Stand my other story. It's the same plot, but this one is kicked up and completely written by myself. The only reason I left the other one on is because some people enjoyed it and who am I to take it off FF and away from them?
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost or The Stand in any shape or form
Live Together, Die Alone
Chapter 1
Armageddon
The streets smell like sulfur and rotting flesh. The stench is overbearing, coating everything that comes in close proximity with the massacre of billions. It permeates his hair and his clothing. The odor doesn't go away; he thinks that it might have soaked through his skin because he can smell it all the time, the smell of hot burning death. The smell of hell.
A hollow wind stumbles through the street, stirring all the foul stenches into a tornado that almost knocks the air from his body. The zephyr is the only show of movement; no one is left wandering the streets, because no one is left at all.
It started less than a week ago, while he was curled up on the couch with Juliet watching some sitcom that she adored and he couldn't stand. It was interrupted by an urgent broadcast from America; a virus was sweeping the nation with flu like symptoms that resulted in death.
The cause or engineering of the virus was left undisclosed but all planes too and from America were cancelled until a later time to avoid a worldwide spread of the deadly disease. It took two days for it to reach Australia.
Working as a doctor wasn't easy during the time. Jack was immediately pulled off of surgery and moved to the emergency room since most of the doctors down there were already infected and dying. In two more days he and one other doctor were the only ones who showed up to work. They still wanted to help although there was no cure. Today his colleague passed.
The emergency level of the hospital was full of cadavers; they were stacked like dominoes in exam rooms and hallways since the morgue ran out of room. They ended up moving most of them to the cafeteria once the outbreak occurred, but after a few hours no one seemed to care anymore.
Jack now stands alone in the street, the wind playing with the sleeves of his suit jacket and the incessant dinging of the open door on his car playing at the back of his mind. He went in to work today and there was no body. Juliet went in to work today and she never returned home.
The sun is beginning to set, and in a few hours it will be dark. There's no one left to work the generators because for the past few nights they've used Roman candles to light up the house. The untouched box left underneath the kitchen sink for disasters is now almost empty, but he honestly doesn't know what to do? Was it survival of the fittest now? Take what you need by force? The last question makes his stomach sink, because he's not sure if there is anyone left in the world to fight with.
When he drove home from work that day, he found the double driveway half empty. Juliet's gas-guzzling SUV was missing. She still couldn't be at work, there couldn't be anyone left at the prison. They both contemplated even leaving the house this morning, but he had to. If someone at the hospital needed help, he wanted to be there to give it. She left in hopes of finding more people. He didn't argue with her, all they seemed to do lately was argue.
Supplies are needed, hydro went down Wednesday and the bottled water is running low. But he couldn't do anything until he found Juliet, which is why he sped all the way to the prison. His sports car squealed to a stop before the rising and falling arm on the security booth, the motion incessant like the swinging pendulum in a grandfather clock.
Inside the small booth, the security guard lies with his face pressing into the button controlling the mechanical arm. Mucus exudes from his nose and mouth seeping into the panel. His eyes are open and bloodshot, the color of his irises indefinable through the cloud of death that shrouds his eyes. Jack reaches forward and pries the ring of keys from the dead man's rigid hand, he thinks he might hear a snap, but it could be his mind playing games on him.
Jack walks up concrete stairs to the entrance finding it open and unguarded. His mind doesn't focus on anything in particular as he enters the darkness of the building. The sable brick walls allow in no light except for the few windows built high above his head. Thick beams of dying light hit the opposite wall and create a striped effect.
Using his memory, he makes it to the stairwell which is completely black. With the backlight from the hallway he finds the reflection of the railing and follows it up until he's on the fourth landing leading to the third floor. That's where Juliet's office is.
When she rushed home after she was hired as the prison psychiatrist he was doubtful. Listening to the confessions of serial killers and rapists did not bode well for her mind after what happened with her previous job working for Widmore Industries. They argued about it for a few days, but when she was adamant on taking the position he let her. Now he wishes she hadn't.
The third floor is almost identical to the first floor, the tall windows are the only source of concentrated light. Her office is a little ways down, the solid metal door adorned with the room number 815 and Dr. Burke on golden plates. Turning the handle he finds the door unlocked, but the hope he feels fades immediately when he finds her office empty.
The desk that takes up a large portion of the room is scattered with papers shuffled into in and out piles. The office chair is directed away from her desk with the backdrop of slanted blinds letting in the rays of red dying light. It reminds him that he needs to get home.
Maybe she's back at the house waiting for him; maybe she went out to get supplies like he should have. They're going to need food and water. Medical supplies as well. Jack has his first intellectual thought of the day, and makes a conscious decision to check out the medical office he knows is on the second floor before he leaves.
With one final glance back at Juliet's empty office, he turns and walks back down the hallway to the stairwell. Following the railing once again he stops after two short landings to find the second floor exit. The same brick walls greet him as he moves into another identical hallway though the second floor always held an eerie feeling for him, it's where the actual prisoners were held, though he supposes it doesn't matter now.
Jack stops for a moment, his shiny dress shoes no longer tapping against the faded linoleum. It's been a long day, that his brain hasn't even comprehended has happened yet and his mind keeps playing tricks on him. His ears fill with a banging sound, a metal against metal clanging that rings through the empty building.
Shaking his head Jack tells himself that it's just another thing that seems surreal, the matching hallways, the absence of his fiancée, the death of his parents and the entire world. He can't deal with all of it, so he doesn't acknowledge it and it represses within him and he thinks that it might be making him go crazy.
He feels the cool brick against the back of his closely shaven head as he leans against the walls that taunt him. His lungs expand as the boiling sick-scented air fills his
lungs and the clanging echoes down the empty hallway like the moan of a tormented soul, he closes his eyes and slowly counts to five.
On the last number he opens his eyes and waits for the noise to stop but it doesn't. In fact it's more frequent now, but he also notices that it's irregular. This is not a sound a machine creates, it's random and unplanned.
Pushing away from the wall, he takes light steps so the sound of his shoes doesn't mute the clangs. Jack's strides are long and the noise becomes louder as he moves down the hallway until he comes to a barred door blocking him from entering the paddock area.
Reaching into his suit pocket he pulls out the ring of keys he took from the guard at the front gate, and begins to try each key in the hole until the proper one clicks into place. The door groans as he slides it open and enters the first row of what seems like thousands of cells rising at least five levels up.
The clanking is louder now, bouncing off the vast walls and reverberating into eternity. "Hello?" he cups his hands over his mouth and immediately the noise stops. Jack moves into the center of the jail, his head twisting around trying to find the maker of the noise.
Frantically the clanging continues savage and ceaseless. His ears hone in on the unnatural sound and he takes a left running down one of the rows that makes a large asterisk shape. "Hello?" he shouts again, his heart wildly beating as the hallway doesn't seem to end. Concrete cracked and copper colored moves underneath his feet until the slate color give away into a shock of bright red.
Jack stops breathless and stares wide-eyed at the puddle of blood pooled at his feet. A man lies on his back on the ground, a bullet hole burrowed straight through his head which spilt gallons of blood. In his left hand there is a standard issue police pistol. His body is toppled over in the doorway of an open jail cell, in the corner of the cell is the person causing all the noise.
Handcuffed to the corner bar in the cell is a girl in her mid-twenties. She's clad in the standard bright orange prison uniform, with brown curly hair falling down her shoulders. Her thin, pail arms are folded up and her face is hidden within them but when Jack lets out a gasp of surprise, her head jerks up.
"Please," her voice is raspy and weak, "Please don't leave."
With his eyes falling to the dead body lying only a few feet away from her, and then back to the girl handcuffed in place he doesn't know what to do. Her body suddenly slumps and slides towards the ground in fatigue, "please," she utters again.
Jumping over the dead body he lands on his knees beside her, "hey," he holds her slumped shoulders and moves her to lean against the back wall of the cell. Her arms stretch over her head revealing the irritation from the cuffs on her wrists. "Where are the keys?"
Her head falls to the side, her cheek soft and clammy against his hand, "pocket."
Jack nods and gently sets her back so he is free to rifle through the dead police officer's pocket. He is hesitant at first, his fingers curling in resistance, but he manages to find the cool silver key.
"I got it," he flashes it to her when she opens her eyes and quickly unlocks the shackles. Her arms are limp and he directs them down with careful movements wincing when she lets out hisses of pain. "You're okay," he places her arms tight against her body and pulls his hands away from her.
"Thank you," she pants and pushes herself to sit up straight. Her eyes open and alert, "I've been here like that for over two days."
"What happened?" Jack gestures back to the dead police officer.
"He, umm," her eyes drift to the side, and then focus back on him, "he thought he wasn't going to get sick. When he did and I didn't, he locked me up and shot himself," her shoulders rise stiffly in a shrug, "I guess he couldn't stand to see me win."
Jack watches her as the shame crosses her face at admitting she's immune to this virus, the way her light green eyes fall a shade darker, the way her plush pink lips push together then part slightly as she lets out a small sigh. His heart thumps loudly and he blames it on the excitement of finding another live human being, "there's no one left out there."
"I kind of figured," a smile hints at the corner of her lips as her hand rings around the opposite raw wrist, "no one came for two days."
A light chuckle escapes him and he directs his eyes to her injuries, "we should get that cleaned up. It could get infected."
The grin now spreads across her face, "Are you a doctor or something?"
"A spinal surgeon actually," Jack smiles as he stands, then holds out both hands to help her stand. Her hands are cool and clammy when he grasps them in his.
"I," she stops and lets out a nervous laugh, her cheeks gaining a slight blush and her eyes darting away, "I don't even know you're name."
When she's steady on her feet, he answers, "I'm Jack."
She grins again and he wonders why this doesn't feel uncomfortable, "I'm Kate."
Next chapter - more characters are introduced. Who you ask? I'm not telling but feel free to guess because it amuses me. But it's someone you won't suspect and that's why I did it.
Next chapter of Left Behind due before Friday
Remember to review if you like, because if you took the time to read this, why not take a little more to let me know you liked it.
