When Seifer woke, it was daylight. The clock on the nightstand read 9:14 am. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up. Everything was as he'd left it. His ski clothes hung in the closet to dry and the dresser he'd used to barricade the door was still pressed tight against the only exit in the place.

The heater was going full blast and the room was sweltering, but Seifer was inclined to leave it that way. Though he was warm now, the chill hadn't quite left his bones. Worse, his face felt chafed and dry from exposure and it was tender to the touch.

What had he been thinking, coming to Trabia? He'd hated the cold when he arrived, and he hated it even more now. If he'd been smart, he might have picked some place on the Centra continent. Isolation had been the goal, a chance to get away from it all. Centra was the perfect location for that, and as a bonus, it was warm, mostly dry and he didn't have to worry about being snowed in.

Isolation had been what he sought, but he'd never felt so isolated as he did now. All signs pointed to him being the only one left alive. That couldn't be possible, but since the first creeper had appeared at his window to now, he had not seen a single normal person. Not one, and that scared the shit out of him.

The night before, the effort of removing his ski pants and jacket had sapped what strength Seifer had left. His plan to warm up, get information and food had turned into warm up and go the fuck to bed. Warming up had involved a long, hot shower and bundling himself up in all the blankets in the room. He he had kicked a few of them off in his sleep, but he found himself still buried beneath two comforters and a sheet. He had no plans to go outside for a while, no matter what was going on. Not until he had a clearer picture of what he might be dealing with.

He switched on the television and flicked through several Deling City networks that had gone off the air. Seifer found that strange. At this hour, there should have been morning newscasts or at least a morning talk show or two, but all he got was fuzzy black and white static for each and every one, the way it had been for most of his childhood. Eventually, he found a station that was broadcasting. Surely, there would be some news, some information about those crazy fucks, but what he saw was not what he expected.

On screen was a news caster's desk. A man was slumped over it and his hand was missing. Blood pooled on the desk beneath the crumpled form. Smeared, bloody hand prints lined the wall of the set. He waited for someone to come on screen, for some sound to prove it was just a joke, but there was nothing. The man did not move. The camera did not shift away from the scene.

Confused and with a growing sense of dread, Seifer changed the channel.

This one was an Estharian news station. The people reporting looked very much alive and at least a little intelligent. Nobody was killing anybody. No one was bleeding. No one was dead. Seifer breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back into the pillows to watch the broadcast.

"Timber celebrated its independence from Galbadia last night in a big way," a blonde reporter said. "Keynote speakers included Sorceress Rinoa Heartilly, SeeD Commander Squall Leonhart and Timber Maniacs publisher Hayden Dorsey."

The corner of Seifer's mouth hitched up into a smirk at the thought of Squall giving a speech. That was sure to be delightfully awkward considering the guy could barely form two sentences at a time under the best of circumstances.

Footage showed the entire city of Timber celebrating and an impressive fireworks display. It looked like one hell of a party. In the video of the crowd, he spied Watts and Zone and smiled as a sense of nostalgia came over him. He'd spent more than a little time with them, drinking on the train and plotting the downfall of Vinzer Deling. They hadn't been friends, exactly, but most definitely friendly.

Good times. Better times.

"This oughta be good," he said and turned up the volume just as footage from Squall's speech came on.

"Timber was the inciting incident for the war," Squall said. "Because of what happened here, the whole world changed."

"Bullshit," Seifer said at the screen and tossed his balled up sock at Squall's face. "Dollet was the kick off, dumbass, or do you not remember the fucking antenna?"

"Of course, I didn't know that when I was dangling off the side of a moving train," Squall said with an ironic sort of smile. Seifer had never seen the kid smile before. "Or having my ass handed to me by a zombie president body double."

Leonhart making a joke? Seifer peered at the screen, narrowing his eyes at Squall's grin and at the sound of actual inflection in his voice.

"When did you grow a personality?" Seifer commented. "Bet they had to get you good and drunk to get you up there, huh?"

When Rinoa appeared on screen, Seifer shut his mouth. He didn't know how to feel about her anymore and he hadn't given her much thought since the end of the war. They'd ended their romantic relationship on good terms, but he'd probably ruined all that when he'd forced her to her knees before Adel. He hadn't loved Rinoa, but he'd liked and respected her more than most people.

There had been something about her spirit he admired. She had guts and fire and refused to take orders from anyone. For Seifer, that had been refreshing, when everyone else around him did what they were told without question. He'd loved how she delighted in bucking the system and however ineffective her methods may have been, she'd believed in herself and her cause and wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirty.

Well, at least she seemed to have accomplished what she set out to do, which was more than Seifer could say for himself. On screen, Rinoa looked vibrant and happy, her smile one of victory as she regaled the crowd with a tale about joining the Forrest Owls. He smiled when he saw that she'd paired a professional blazer and skirt with her beat up combat boots. It looked ridiculous but if he knew Rinoa, she'd worn them for a reason.

"Disturbing news out of Deling City," the newscaster continued when the scene shifted back to the news room. "A strange illness has infected hundreds of thousands, leading to rioting in the streets and what some have described as rampant cannibalism. We have been unable to contact other news outlets in Deling City and General Caraway has been unforthcoming with information about the situation. Take a look at footage sent to us from an independent source."

Seifer leaned forward with interest. This was what he'd been waiting for. The screen filled with grainy footage of panic in the streets as people just like the ones he'd seen last night feasted on others. A shudder passed through him as a woman wandered into the frame, dead eyed and gnawing on a severed, bloody arm.

"Shit can't be real," he muttered. "No fucking way it's real."

But it was, wasn't it? He'd seen those things with his own eyes. Not what they did, and not what they were after, but he'd seen them and had almost become a victim himself. Was that where everyone was? They'd become one of those things? Or had they all been killed by them? He wondered what the ratio of dead versus creepers was. He definitely preferred more of them dead than alive, but who knew what the hell was going on?

"The cause of this situation is unknown," the reporter said. "However, for the last two weeks, Deling City has reported an alarming number of cases of a drug resistant flu, along with an unusually high mortality rate. It is unknown whether the two are related."

Seifer was willing to bet they were, but he didn't know enough to make that distinction for sure.

"Also, no word yet on last night's incident at the theater in Esthar City. Witnesses have said it bears a disconcerting similarity to the footage out of Deling City. A man attacked a woman during intermission and according to-eye witness statements, tore her apart. Witnesses also say, the scene was cleared and secured by Esthar Garden Headmaster Quistis Trepe, Presidential Advisor Kiros Seagill, and President Loire himself. No word on whether this is related to the attacks in Deling City or simply a copy cat. The office of the President issued no comment on the incident."

"Headmaster Trepe?" Seifer wondered as a photograph of Quistis on the President's arm appeared on screen. "Moving up in the world, are we? Guess kissing ass pays off."

The broadcast moved on to sports and Seifer changed the channel until he found another station It was more of the same, offering no real insight to what was going on, except that it was happening on three continents and no one was sure why. The only thing new was that Esthar's borders would close to all but essential personnel until further notice.

He picked up his phone and tried to call Raijin. He was sent to voicemail before it even rang.

"Yo, call me back. Wanna meet up."

Seifer wasn't a worrier but he was worried now. Worried that his friends had fallen victim to the insanity going on in the city. Worried that one or both of them had become a buffet for whatever the hell those things were, or worse, had become like them. He tried not to picture Fujin drooling blood as she slurped down a bit of intestine or Raijin tearing off someone's arm to nibble on for a snack. He tried not to think about the two of them ganging up on him, vacant eyed and angry, hungry for a bite of his flesh.

He had to come up with a plan. Initially, he thought he would just head back to Deling City, but from the looks of it, that was the worst place he could go. But where else was there? Balamb? It hadn't been mentioned at all in the broadcasts he'd seen. Did that mean it was free of flesh-eating freaks? Or had it been wiped out completely?

First and foremost, he had to get off this frozen wasteland. After that, he wasn't sure where to go. Deling City didn't look like an option. He had no clue about Balamb and no real reason to go there. Esthar looked like his best bet, if he could find a way into the city without going through the checkpoint. There was nothing in Esthar for him, but at least he was sure there were still living, normal people and it didn't look like whatever was going on in Deling City was happening there.

At least, not yet.


Squall stood at the counter of the coffee shop in Timber's main square, unable to stop thinking about what had happened in the lobby of the hotel the day before. Rinoa hadn't been right since. They had attended a party at the mayor's house following the incident and though Rinoa pretended to be all right, her smile was forced and she was less gregarious than usual. When he'd asked later, she said she was fine, just tired. It was a lie.

The day before, in the lobby, he'd sensed something strange happening with Rinoa, and had turned in time to see Zell snap a woman's neck with cold, determined efficiency. If not for the identifying tattoo on his friend's face, Squall might not have recognized him. He'd seen Zell in various states during battle, from desperate to angry to annoyed, but Squall had never seen such a cold, murderous and, frankly, scary determination in Zell before.

"She was trying to hurt, Rin," Zell said quietly. At his sides, his fists balled up and his eyes flashed with hot anger. "I had no choice."

"Can I take your order?" the barista asked.

Squall snapped out of his thoughts and ordered himself a cup of hot tea and a coffee with cream and sugar for Rinoa. It was early afternoon, far too late for tea and coffee, but they had a dinner engagement with the mayor before they returned to Balamb on the last train out. Neither was feeling particularly energetic. He hoped the caffeine would give them enough of a boost to get through it without looking like they suffered from the world's worst hangovers.

When he returned to their table outside, Rinoa was red eyed from crying and Squall felt a pang of sympathy for her as he sat down. Since the incident, she'd been quiet and distant, except when she'd cried loudly at the train station when they said goodbye to Zell and Selphie. Now, that distance had returned and Squall didn't understand it. He sensed she was more upset than she was letting on, but he couldn't tell what the cause was.

He slid the coffee over to her but she didn't take it. She merely stared off into the distance, deep in thought. For a second, he wondered if this was what it was like for her to deal with his long silences and lapses into his thoughts. No wonder she got annoyed. The silence was disconcerting.

"Rin? Coffee?"

She turned her eyes on him, surprised he was there.

"Thanks," she said as she accepted the cup. She wrapped both hands around it, but didn't drink.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head and looked guiltily down at the table.

"Zell and Selphie, or what happened yesterday?"

Rinoa blinked at the table and toyed with the lid of the coffee cup. It wasn't like her to hold back. Rinoa had never been afraid to say what was on her mind, and she was rarely at a loss for words. Squall was officially worried.

"She called me mother."

"Who?"

"The woman yesterday. She called me mother."

"She was crazy. Sick."

Rinoa shook her head.

"I felt something when she said it."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, it was like I knew her."

"Someone you knew from the resistance?"

"No."

Her eyes were full of fear when she finally lifted her gaze from the table to look at him. A chill passed through him and he sat up straighter, a need to protect and defend coming to the forefront. He reached for her hands, surrounding them with his own around the coffee cup.

"She was crazy, Rin. I know it was scary, but... that's all it is."

She shook her head, dismissing his explanation and he heard a whisper in his mind. Rinoa's voice, but not her voice, speaking softly. Flashes of blood on a sidewalk and a dark sky devoid of stars and a legion of soulless eyes gazing back at him. These images filled his head as the voice said the words again.

My children...

Squall jerked his hands away from hers, not understanding what had just happened. His heart raced and his skin grew cold.

"What... What was that?"

"I..."

Tears filled her eyes and she began to cry into her hands. Squall got up, his own terror forgotten and dropped to a knee next to her. Gently, he pried her hands away to loop her arms around his neck. The scent of orange blossom and honey wafted from her hair as he pressed her head to his shoulder. She sobbed silently, her tears wetting the fabric of his shirt.

All he could do was stroke her hair and her back and let her cry it out.

Even when she finally stopped crying, her hands shook and she stared down at the table like she was afraid to look him in the eye. The event had shaken her to her core and Squall could not wrap his head around why. Sure, it had been weird and creepy, but it had been brief and the woman was no longer a threat.

"What was that you showed me?" he asked.

"I don't know. It came after..."

"After Zell killed her?"

Rinoa nodded.

"And the voice?" he asked.

"It sounded like me."

"We'll skip the party and go home," Squall said. "You need to see Dr. Kadowaki."

Rinoa's worried eyes searched his face. "Do you think this means there's something wrong with me?"

"No," he answered honestly. "But, I want you checked out just in case. You'll feel better when she gives you the all clear. We both will."

"We already committed to -"

"I don't care," Squall said. "Your health comes first."

"But-"

"I know," he said. "Don't worry about it. They'll forgive you. Come on. Let's go see if we can get on an earlier train."


Zell spent the majority of the train ride to Esthar in a state of disillusionment that bordered on despair. He kept flashing back to the moment he'd killed the woman, and the feel of her neck snapping in his hands. Under the best of circumstances, Zell usually suffered some guilt when he had to take a life. It wasn't uncommon for him to wonder about those he killed. Who they had been. If they had a family. Occasionally he even wondered how his Ma might feel if it had been him instead.

He'd been trained differently. They'd all been trained to view having to kill as a necessary part of the job. He reminded himself of this every single time. It was part of the job and sometimes, he had to kill to stay alive. The truth was, Zell hated killing. He hated it. It went against everything he'd been taught before SeeD. Martial Arts was about self defense and inner strength and mediation. Not ruthlessly snapping the neck of a sick woman.

He enjoyed sparring. There was nothing better than a good fight against a skilled opponent. But killing? No. There was nothing good about that.

"I'm just so sad Irvy couldn't come with us," Selphie lamented from the other side of the SeeD cabin. Zell brushed away the lingering guilt and focused on his friend. "When we get there, I'm going to beg Quisty to find a spot for him. There has to be something he can do."

"You're going to see him on Friday," Zell reminded her.

"I know, but that's like...days away!"

"What are you gonna do once term starts?" Zell asked. "He's not gonna be able to make the trip every weekend, you know."

"That's why I'm gonna ask Quisty about finding him a position. Duh!" Selphie rolled her eyes at him. "I don't care what it is, there's just gotta be something."

Zell's mental image of Irvine in an apron with a bandanna tied around his head, serving hash browns and hot dogs came to mind. Of Irvine shamelessly flirting with the lunch ladies and the ladies giving it right back. He imagined Selphie's outrage and jealousy and her certainty Irvine was fooling around with women older than Ma. He snorted back his laughter and shook his head.

"Should get your stuff together," Zell said. "Stop's coming up soon."

Right on cue, the automated announcement blared over the speakers. Zell got up and stuffed a stack of Combat King magazines back into his bag and retrieved his paperwork to present at the station. Due to the tightened security, Quistis had faxed a document for each of them to the hotel so that they wouldn't have difficulty getting past customs.

Zell wasn't sure what the extra security measures were about. He hadn't really been paying attention, but he supposed it was just Esthar's way of limiting the number of tourists attempting to visit the city. He wished Balamb would do the same thing. Since the war, his quaint, hidden gem of a hometown had become a hot tourist destination and he hated seeing the visitors disregard for cleaning up after themselves at the beach, and he hated that going out on Friday nights involved waiting in long lines and that there was always traffic. The tourists were rude and pushy and they complained about everything. Souvenir shops were on every corner, places full of post cards and tacky knickknacks made of shells with a "Made in Centra" sticker on the bottom. It didn't look or feel like home anymore.

Maybe that was his problem. Watching his hometown slowly transform into a cheesy joke. Watching his Ma's dismay at being shoved aside on the sidewalk by rowdy college kids on spring break. Watching everything he'd loved about the place disappear. It made him feel like he was disappearing, too.

He understood Esthar's fear. Outsiders had a way of ruining things. Of turning something beautiful into a hot mess of t-shirts that said, "Balamb: A Quaint Little Drinking Village With a Fishing Problem," and postcard racks with dated photos and wild drunken keggers on the beach. Trash and beer bottles littering the once pristine white sand.

Esthar had the right idea. Seal it off. Shut down the borders. Preserve a way of life.

They stepped off the train ten minutes later to a huge barricade and a gate on the platform. Zell lifted an eyebrow in surprise as he clutched his paperwork and stepped into line. Selphie grumbled behind him and dug through her purse for her own paperwork.

The gate was manned by soldiers in that weird Estharian body armor. To Zell, they'd always looked like aliens and they were no less intimidating now than they'd been when he'd first encountered them. One by one, people filtered through the gate, though Zell noted, roughly half were rejected and sent to a station further down the platform where more soldiers were conducting pat downs and shining flashlights into eyes and mouths.

"Wow, they're not kidding around," Selphie remarked. "Wonder what they're looking for."

"Who knows?" Zell said.

"I hate waiting in line," Selphie complained. "They should have just let me fly the Ragnarok. We would have been here yesterday."

Zell didn't comment. It was his turn. He presented his paperwork to the soldier.

"State your business in Esthar."

"Instructor Zell Dincht, Esthar Garden."

The soldier looked over Zell's documents.

"I'm here on President Loire's request," Zell said. He hoped name dropping Laguna might help speed things along.

"Very good, sir. Please step over to the gate at the left for the health inspection."

"Uh...health inspection?"

"Yes, sir. Due to the outbreak in Deling City, all arrivals must submit to a health assay before going through the check point. Sorry for the inconvenience."

Zell frowned and gave the man an unenthusiastic shrug. He didn't wait for Selphie, but she joined him in line a moment later. Her frown was darker than Zell's.

"This is so stupid. I want to be there NOW."

"Relax," Zell said. "It'll only take a few minutes, then we'll be on our way."

Zell submitted to a pat down, wincing as parts of him that didn't usually get handled by others were groped and explored with what Zell considered undue interest. A flashlight was directed into his eyes and his mouth, up his nose and in his ears and he wondered what the hell they were looking for.

They took his blood pressure and his pulse, then shoved a thermometer in his mouth. Selphie endured the same, but with much eye-rolling and repeated sighs of exasperation.

They didn't tell either Zell or Selphie what was wrong when they were both taken to an area marked quarantine and locked inside.


Quistis arrived at Odine's lab, thinking of how much work she wasn't getting done. She entered the lobby and bypassed the reception desk as Laguna, Ward and Kiros trailed behind her. Odine had news, and Quistis wanted answers in spite of all the work she was missing.

Odine's door was open so Quistis barged in with a terse greeting.

"What do you have for us?"

"You look lovely zis morning, Qvistiz," Odine said.

"Thank you. You said you have information."

"Yes, zis vay please."

Quistis spared a glance at Laguna, who managed to look both worried and amused at the same time. It was no secret Laguna had a soft spot for the strange little man. Quistis found Odine a deplorable lunatic most of the time, but he had his uses. If not for him, they would not have been able to destroy Ultimecia.

They were led to a lab full of strange equipment. At the back of the room was a projection screen.

"You are familiar vis ze Galatori Virus, yez?

"I am," Quistis said. "On a layman's basis, of course."

The Galatori Virus was an all but extinct entity in the world today, thanks to vaccines, but it had once ravaged the Centran continent like wildfire. It was a horrible, painful and messy way to die. She'd once seen images and would rather forget them.

Odine flicked on the screen and an image of something shaped like a corkscrew filled the screen.

"Zis iz ze Galatori, imaged on an electron microscope," Odine said. "Note ze spiral configuration, yez?"

Quistis nodded as Odine brought up a second image. It looked like a normal cell.

"Zis vas taken from ze victim. No sign of ze infection," Odine said. He brought up a third image. "Zis vone iz from ze attacker."

On screen, Quistis saw the same corkscrew shape as the first image. Odine brought the first back for comparison. Quistis stepped closer to the screen to take them in side by side and saw almost no difference except for better screen resolution on the newer image.

"So this is Galatori?" Quistis wondered aloud. "I don't recall cannibalism being part of the package."

"You are correct," Odine said. "Galatori causes ze infected to bleed from every orifice. Ze intestines and soft tissues are liquefied as ze virus spreads in ze body. Death occurs visin three days of ze first symptom."

"So what am I looking at?" Quistis asked.

"I have not yet determined vat it iz. Zey are similar, but not ze same. A mutation, perhaps. Or a new virus all togezer," he said.

"Why did the guy do...what he did?" Laguna asked.

"My theory iz zat infection cauzes ze brain to function at its most base level," Odine said. "Zere are only a few natural instincts. Eat, drink, fuck, yez?"

Odine let out a peal of laughter at his own crudeness. Quistis felt a blush spread over her cheeks and she refrained from making eye contact with anyone. Odine wasn't wrong, but he could have put it more delicately.

"Survival of ze species," Odine said. "Virus' verk ze same vay. Yet, zey are not alive, and zey are not dead. It cannot be dead because it reproduces, yet it does not have ze characteristics zat define life as ve know it."

Quistis nodded. She remembered reading about this years ago in one of her science classes. How viruses invaded a cell and used the cell components to replicate itself. Once complete, the cell was destroyed and the virus would move on to the next and repeat the process. With a virus like Galatori, which spread aggressively and rapidly, the destruction would basically liquefy organs and soft tissues, causing massive hemorrhaging and an eventual bleed out.

It was awful and terrifying, but if Quistis remembered her studies, outbreaks were short lived. To be successful, a virus needed to keep its host alive long enough to pass itself onto a new one before it was destroyed by the body's immune system. A virus like Galatori spread through body fluids rather than aerosol particles or contact with surfaces the infected had touched unless that surface was covered in blood or mucus and came in contact with an open wound or a membrane like an eye.

With the way Galatori burned through a population, it was horrifying but ultimately not viable. Viruses that caused colds and the flu were far more effective survivors, unless the host was immune compromised, they did not typically destroy the host.

"Deling City experienced a record number of deaths from the flu in the last two weeks. Are the two related?" Kiros wondered.

"Zat vas my next point," Odine said. "Samples vere sent to me from ze Deling University laboratory. I have imaged and compared zem."

The next slide looked exactly like the sample from the attacker.

"Ze two are identical," Dr. Odine said.

"So, why do some people die of fever and others become like our attacker?"

"I am still researching, but I believe it haz somesing to do vis ze kind of host ze virus seeks. Razer zan killing ze host, it destroys ze brain only and seeks now new vones through biting."

"But they're killing the new hosts before they can become infected."

"Correct. Ze brain haz been destroyed to the point where ze drive to feed is stronger," Odine said. "I intend to perform an autopsy on ze infected one. I believe I vill find lesions and dead spots, if my theory iz correct."

Quistis crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the tiny collection of proteins that caused so much trouble.

"Any idea where it came from?" she asked. "Is this maybe a mutation of the old Galatori or something different?"

"Ah, now zat iz ze most interesting part," Odine said. The man became excited and his beady black eyes gleamed with intensity. "It came from time compression."


Notes:

I did a lot of research on so called "hot viruses" back in college, particularly Ebola and Marburg, so that was extremely helpful in writing the last part of this chapter. Nasty, horrible, awful stuff. Most of what is covered here is based off that research and the majority of it is pretty close to reality. I don't recommend looking too deep into it unless you have a strong stomach. I'm not squeamish and I'm not easily rattled by awful things, but I was super paranoid for about a week afterward. I used a lot of hand sanitizer. If you are interested in scaring the hell out of yourself, I highly recommend "The Hot Zone," by Richard Preston. It reads like fiction but it isn't. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

I may have gone overboard with Odine's accent. I'm sorry. It was fun to write, though.

I am overwhelmed by the interest in this story and a big, huge thank you to everyone who took the time to review. I really love hearing from people and it's always a lot of fun for me to see what stands out to readers. Often, it's things I didn't expect and I love that. So, thanks!