Chapter 1:Prologue

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight was just a freelance photographer trying to find his place in the world.

He didn't make much money, simply for the fact that the city he resided in had no need for his services. No one cared about preserving memories in photographs, it seemed. But Adam wasn't one to give up hope so easily; he'd make it work.

On average, he earned about two hundred dollars a month. It really wasn't much at all; he was just getting by with the bare minimum. More than once he had returned to his horrid apartment to find the refrigerator empty, and more than once he had to make a late night trip to the nearest fast food center to engorge himself in cheap death food.

Maybe it was time to move out soon, he thought. But he didn't have anywhere else to go, nor did he have the money to afford any new housing. Even if he could find a cheaper apartment elsewhere, it would probably be just as bad as his current one. If not worse. He took what he could.

He came down with an irritating cough over a week ago. Every couple of minutes he would cough into his hand or arm roughly, making it difficult to focus on his work. His clients would threaten to turn down his services if he didn't hurry up, but he quickly regained his composure (or at least did so the best he could) before snapping a quick shot and demanding his money. Disgruntled, his client would hand it over and Adam would never have to see them ever again.

The cough persisted, and he decided that he may as well get himself checked out at a hospital in case he had come down with something serious. Grabbing three twenty dollar bills in case whatever cheapskate doctor decided to charge him for a simple diagnosis, he locked his apartment door behind him and went on his way.

The sky was dark, but that wasn't unusual. It was always dark in the god forsaken city, filled with criminals who beat people for their money and took everything they had on them if they didn't have the bills. That's why Adam only went out wearing the dirtiest and cheapest looking clothes he could find; he didn't rather like being mugged.

His city's police department wasn't much better. The cops would only do something about the crimes if it brought danger to themselves or their family. They didn't care about anyone else. The city was practically in a world of its own, cut off from the rest of society; the only thing reminding them that there was a world to explore on the outside was the channels on television. They were so cheap that the local news station didn't even include them in their reports.

It was a rather small city compared to other ones (the ones Adam could tell from brief glances at maps), but it was large enough to support the population of two thousand. Though, it did get a bit crowded at times. Adam was just glad that he hadn't been forced to share his room with anyone just yet. He'd keel over dead before he would give that one place of privacy up.

The hospital loomed in the distance. It was probably the cleanest place in the city, but that wasn't saying very much. It wasn't as if the police did any check-ups to make sure the janitors actually were working at their jobs. Adam's tongue clicked in distaste as he recalled the various police officers he had met on his run in the city. They weren't very friendly folk, he knew that much. He didn't know their names, but there was one black haired cop with his hair parted in the middle of his forehead that seemed to love giving him hell for no reason. Adam hadn't seen him around in a while; two, three weeks, maybe. He briefly wondered why.

Strolling as casually as he could through the front doors of the large building (coughing harshly into his arm as he did so), he walked up to the receptionist desk and asked if he could have a couple of minutes with any doctor to see if there was a name to whatever bug he had come down with.

"Do you have an appointment, sir?" The lady asked in a bored tone of voice. Adam didn't blame her; even he preferred his job of photography over sitting at a desk all day.

"No, ma'am," he shook his head. "I don't think I need one though; do I?" He gestured to the empty waiting lobby and she shrugged.

"Fair enough. Fill out this form and I'll call you in as soon as one of our doctors becomes available."

"Thank you," he smiled curtly and took the clipboard from her hands. Idly he made his way over to a chair and plopped down onto it, taking the pen connected to the wood via a simple chain and started filling it out. Name, first and last, age, occupation, the works. Minutes passed and it what felt like no time at all, he had everything filled. No, he didn't have any family history of illnesses; at least, not that he was aware of. His medical history was rather boring.

His attention was caught and he turned his head to look up when he heard the sound of a door opening on the receptionist's side of the room. The female desk worker turned to a rather tall blonde man and spoke in the same tone of voice as before, "Doctor Gordon. Going home for the day?"

"Yes, Lynn," he looked around. "After the wave of patients rushing in looking for a diagnosis, it's been rather slow. They told me to go home and that they'll continue working on a cure themselves."

"That's nice," Lynn noted, not sounding interested in the slightest. "There's another guy who came in here and he wants a diagnosis," she nodded in Adam's direction. Doctor Gordon turned to face him and he gave a weak, halfhearted wave. "Care to take care of him before going home, doctor?"

The blonde stared at the photographer for a moment before slumping in a defeated sigh. "Might as well. Come along, then. You can give your form to Lynn." Adam nodded and stood to walk over, dropping his clipboard on the receptionist desk as he passed by. He barely registered a note of annoyance on the female's face before the doctor led him into the depths of the hospital.

"Wave of patients?" Adam asked curiously, remembering the brief conversation from just a minute earlier. "I never took this place as the busy kind."

Doctor Gordon bit out a laugh. "You're more or less correct, but lately we've had a bunch of people come in coughing up a storm and demanding what was wrong with them. At first we just told them that they had the common cold, but then they started having violent fits, beating even their most loved ones. The police actually managed to get involved, and are currently detaining the violent ones."

"Sheesh, sounds serious," Adam replied, rubbing his arm nervously. Coughing up a storm, huh? It sounded rather close to what he was doing currently. Maybe the violent fits had nothing to do with the coughs? He sure hoped so. He never took himself as the angry kind of person, no matter what that vegan that had broken up with him years ago said.

"I guess. After their violent fits, though, the ones in prison… They just suddenly started complaining they were cold. As in, freezing. We took their temperatures, and they were actually fairly normal. The only things wrong were their complaints and shivering bodies. They were doing so pretty badly. And then…" he trailed off.

"… What happened next?" Adam asked curiously.

Doctor Gordon stopped in his tracks for a second before moving onward once more. "… Nothing. That was it. As soon as their shivering died down, we thought they would be fine… apparently not. The next day, most of the ones in the shivering phase were already dead. Skins completely blue, as if they had been in the tundra for years before being found. Maybe there were some truths to their claims of freezing after all."

Adam gulped. "And are you sure the violent fits and freezing symptoms are related to the coughing?"

"Not exactly, but it's the best lead we've got," Gordon sighed. "It's crazy. We're working on an antidote, and maybe we're getting close, maybe we're so far off we aren't even in the same league."

"You don't sound very concerned," Adam pointed out.

"To be honest, as long as nothing bad happens to me or my family, I'm as content as possible," the blonde man said. "Here we are." They stopped in front of a door, and the doctor opened it, allowing Adam to walk in first. The doctor followed in behind. "Though there is a reason for worry, if it's contagious. But just for that reason, I've forbidden my daughter from going to school, and my wife from going to work. Maybe it's a bit overprotective of me," he chuckled a bit, "But I'm just looking out for their safety."

"I think it's admirable," Adam smiled. "Even if they hate you for locking them up in your house like that for however long you're going to, they should know that it's only because you care for them." He wished he had people to care for him as well.

"I hope so," Doctor Gordon closed his eyes and shook his head. "Anyway, you came here for a diagnosis? What's wrong?"

The photographer shifted nervously on his feet. "Well," he started, "I'm really curious about the recent influx of patients. When did they start coming in?"

"About a month ago," the blonde man answered instantly.

"And how long did it take for them to die?"

"The deaths started two weeks ago, so if everything is connected, then it will take around two weeks for one human to finish the cycle. Of course, the time may vary depending on the body type of the person infected; I imagine children and the elderly will be more prone and susceptible to the disease… so they need to watch out the most. Hopefully we'll have an antidote soon."

"No offense, but I don't necessarily trust anyone in this city, let alone this hospital," Adam said. It was no secret that most of the residents hated each other, so he didn't mind saying this aloud. "Are you sure your team can handle something like this?"

"Well, no," Gordon sighed, "But I'm working on an antidote, too. More specifically, I'm coming up with the formulas for them to try. I'd like to think that I'm at least a little more credible than the others on my team," he said half-jokingly.

Adam smirked. "Alright then, Doctor. I was just curious. I've actually been coughing for the entire past week, but I don't think I've had any violent fits yet…"

"There are some people who came in a month ago and are still alive today perfectly healthy," Gordon told him. "Perhaps you just have a simple cold."

"God, I hope so. As much as I hate my life, I'd really rather not die in a shithole city like this," Adam looked around. "If I could choose, I'd much go out with a bang, you know? Surrounded by all the hot chicks, maybe heroically saving some child from a rapist or something. Then I'll get shot but at least the kid would be safe, and maybe I'd have just enough time for a special reward from the mother." He laughed.

Doctor Gordon didn't seem nearly as amused as Adam did. "Right," he walked over to his desk and pulled out notepad paper and a pen. "I'm just going to file a quick cold subscription; give this to Lynn and she'll give you the stuff."

"Great," Adam said. "How much is it?"

"It's after hours for me, so you don't have to pay anything." Gordon shrugged. "If Lynn demands money, tell her I'll pay her in the morning."

The photographer nearly couldn't believe his luck. "You'd do that?"

"I wouldn't give her any money, of course, but you don't necessarily seem very set for," the blonde gestured to Adam's dirty and torn clothes. The dark haired other merely shrugged in response before accepting the note. "If you think you're starting to feel a lot angrier all of a sudden… please, come see me. You seem like an okay person, and I wouldn't mind seeing you here more often for friendly visits."

"You seem like an okay person too, Doctor Gordon," Adam smiled.

"Please… call me Lawrence." The Doctor replied.

"Okay then... Lawrence."