So this chapter is considered Present Day and we are in Jamie's POV

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Chapter 4 – Jamie

7 Months Later – Present Day

Everyone has his or her addictions. Everyone has their demons that they battle everyday. For some people it's drugs, or alcohol, or sex. Sometimes it can be harmless things like eating too much, or interrupting too often. Jamie's addiction was far from harmless, but he tried to keep it in check. For now, he could control it, but everyday was like fighting a battle, and he prayed to God that he would never lose it.

The thing that was the worst about addictions was that they were pleasurable. Most of the time, addicts knew that what they were doing was bad for them, but that didn't stop them because in their mind, the good outweighed the bad. This is why so many people struggled with addiction. They knew it was bad, but the didn't want to stop. They knew indulging in their addiction would only lead to disaster. Some people indulged anyway, and some people fought it.

Jamie tried to fight it.

"Adams! Diaz! Murphy! Parker! Woodman!" Jamie could hear Finn's authoritative voice boom against the bare, brick walls of the hospital basement. "You all are going scouting with me. Get your bags packed and be ready in five!"

A few months back, Jamie and Finn had run into a man who knew of a safe place to stay. He led them to an old abandoned mental hospital that had been built on an island about two miles off the coast. The only way of getting on or off the island was a rowboat. It was the perfect place to hide from the Duskies—the monsters who were now plaguing the world. Together, with a few other people, they eventually built up the old hospital into a safe haven.

There were three guard towers where someone was always assigned to be on watch and the island was surrounded completely by fresh water. So far, no Duskie had been desperate enough to try and swim the distance from the coast to the island. As far as they knew the Duskies had no idea there were humans on the island. They hoped to keep it that way.

There were about a hundred or so people living here from ages two to ninety-two. They had let in almost everyone in the beginning, but now space was getting limited. However, it didn't matter much anymore, since people had slowly stopped coming.

There were barred doors to every room, which didn't do much for privacy, but helped with protection. Just in case a Duskie was able to sneak inside the hospital, the residences had a safe place to bunker down. At one point, someone thought of putting up sheets to act as a door, which ended up catching on. It was a little barbaric to think that the hospital used to keep mental patients in what looked like cages, but it was an insane asylum that had been built in the 1800s—barbaric was the norm back then.

People didn't have to leave the island if they didn't want to, but the healthy and fit people left every so often to gather food and supplies (the freshwater surrounding the island offered an endless supply of water). There was also a small vegetable garden and a few cows, pigs, and chickens. It had been a long time coming, but now they were almost completely self-sustainable.

Everyone had a job, whether it be cleaning, gardening, purifying water, cooking or even babysitting. This way everyone did his or her part and the island ran smoothly. There were also people that they called Runners, which was what Finn and the others were doing now—running errands. They had grabbed the suggestion sheet from the lobby and were ready to leave at dawn. The suggestion sheet was a place where people could write down what they needed from the mainland, and the Runners would go and get it. "Are we ready yet?" he called out as the Runners gathered bags and weapons from lockers. Basically anyone who could keep up was allowed on the trips, but most people only came if they were capable of fighting off a Duskie. Elderly and children often stayed back.

Jamie silently came from around the corner. "Are you sure you don't want me to help this time?" his voice sounded weaker than he anticipated.

"Save your energy," Finn said. He must've noticed his brother's tired tone. Of course he did. Finn always checked to make sure Jamie was okay. He would notice if Jamie had a paper cut. "I'll get you everything you need, okay? You still have enough to get you through the day though, right?"

Jamie glanced at the person that walked past them before he answered. Their voices were low as they talked. "Yeah, I have enough." Jamie looked paler than usual. This was usually a sign that he had been missing doses.

"And you've been having some every day, right? That's what Doc said. Everyday to keep it under control." Finn looked at Jamie from under his lashes. He knew Jamie struggled with this, but they didn't have a choice. "Jamie, if you miss a day, you know how you get." He corrected himself. "I know how you get, and I can see it now. I'm just trying to protect you and keep you healthy. I don't want you to—" Finn shook his head. When he spoke again, it was in a much softer tone. "I can't lose my brother, not after Mom and Dad." Finn finished.

Jamie had heard this time and time again. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I'll be better about it, and I'll always let you know if anything goes wrong." He answered the same way every time too.

Finn smiled and clapped a hand on Jamie's shoulder. "That's my Jamie,"

Jamie gave a weak smile and said, "Promise next time that I get to go with you," he glanced over his shoulder. "If I have to stay one more day in this place with Mrs. Powell I think I might puke. She keeps calling me 'sweet cheeks' and 'stud she wouldn't mind bending over for'." Finn laughed at that. "Jesus, Finn, it's not funny." Jamie hit his brother. "The old lady is as wide as I am tall and sweats when she eats. I'm sorry, but the broad will never get anything anytime soon. And if she slaps my ass one more time—"

"Okay," Finn managed between giggles. "Okay. You and I can head out on our own tomorrow to get whatever you need. You know what you like so I won't bother with it today."

"Thank you," Jamie sighed in relief. He was getting cabin fever on the island. He needed an open space to breathe.

"Just stick with Doc for today." Finn suggested. "You know he likes it when you help him out."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Jamie said, half listening. "Be careful out there." He gave Finn a quick hug before he left with the others. Jamie watched them from the door as they all climbed into a boat. It was dawn, and there was just enough light for them to be able to start their mission and get home before it was dark again.

Jamie turned and walked out of what they made into a locker room. This was in the basement of the old hospital and had an exit that lead right to shore.

The hospital had been built on a small cliff that dropped off, had some beach, and then ended in water. The basement/locker room was the only direct route to the beach, unless you wanted to climb down a sheer cliff.

The next few levels were rooms where people stayed. During the day, people were working, so it was eerily quiet as Jamie made his way up the steps.

He remembered how hard it had been getting up these steps when he had first got here. He used to limp and slowly take one stair at a time due to his improperly healed knee. Not anymore. He didn't have a limp or a torn knee to worry about anymore. Not after what happened.

Finally, he reached the main level. There was a lobby with two more wooden staircases on either side that led up to more luxurious rooms. That's where he and Finn stayed, along with Doc and a few others. They were some of the first people to get this place organized and up and running so they claimed the nicer rooms. They were the closest things they had to leaders here also, so naturally they got the presidential suites.

Jamie bypassed going to his room and headed to the Infirmary. That's where Doc was most of the time.

As he passed people working, cleaning, and cooking, he could feel their eyes on him. He could hear the whispers that never stopped about him. Some of the older people knew the truth—had been here when it happened, but never talked about it with the newer people. Some newer people had heard the rumors and some people avoided him completely or left the room when Jamie came in. He tried his best to ignore it. He didn't care what they thought. He knew he would never hurt anyone and that's all that mattered.

Finally, Jamie made it to the Infirmary. There were white metal beds with white mattresses and white sheets that lined the long, white, rectangular room. There were Gothic-styled arched windows along the entire wall that illuminated the room naturally. Jamie kept his eyes down and squinted. The light from the sun, combined with the white interior was plenty enough to irritate his eyes.

There were a few people in the beds, some coughing, and one with a broken arm and they had nurses helping them out. They all silenced their conversations once Jamie entered the room.

In a confined space like the abandoned hospital, disease could spread around quickly so anyone, even with a common cold, was sent here.

Only one had been sent here because they had been bitten...

Doc was predictably in the lab since it was where he usually spent his time. In the beginning, Runners had supplied him with everything he needed for his studies and for the infirmary. The island truly was the best and safest place to be in this day and age.

Doc looked up from a microscope and flinched, "Jamie!" he placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart. "You snuck up on me. You're so quiet."

"Sorry," Jamie pulled up a stool and sat on it. "I'll knock next time."

Doc waved his hand. "Oh, it's nothing to be sorry about. How are you feeling?" Doc always asked this. No matter who you were or how you were feeling, he always asked about your health. Jamie wondered if it was a doctor thing. He never really knew a doctor personally before Doc. Or maybe Doc was just always curious.

"Fine, I guess." He lied. He missed a dose this morning and he always felt sluggish when he missed a dose. Miss two doses and he was on edge. Miss three and… well, you probably didn't want to be around him when he missed three doses in a row.

"Still been taking it everyday?" Doc asked. His eye was glued to his microscope.

"Yepp," Jamie's eyes wandered around the room to the lab tables stacked with Doc's disjointed notes—notes about Jamie; sample vials—vials with Jamie's blood; the cupboards, the refrigerator, and the operating table…

Jamie shivered. "Yeah, I've been taking it everyday."

"Good, good." Doc twisted a knob on the microscope.

"Yeah, I think Finn and I are going to head out on our own tomorrow and stock up."

"Excellent." Doctors were really good fake-listeners, Jamie thought. Doc was always doing something so Jamie was used to the one-sided conversation. Despite this, Doc truly cared about the twins like they were his own sons.

Jamie sat there for a while, watching Doc. He went from the lab table, to a drawer, picked up some long tool, back to the counter and back to another drawer only to make it halfway and turn around again. He was busy scribbling some notes down when he finally spoke. Jamie couldn't imagine how many thoughts ran through his head at once. He seemed so collected whenever he was making a presence elsewhere, but in the lab his mind was on overdrive. "Jamie, are you sure you're okay?" he asked out of the blue. Jamie thought Doc's mind was somewhere else, and not focused on Jamie.

"Yeah, I said that before—"

"I'm a Doctor, Jamie, you can trust me with anything you tell me," Doc looked at Jamie through his thick-framed glasses. He was right; Doc was the only person besides Finn that he could really talk to, about everything.

"Yeah, I know." He took a breath. "I didn't take my dose this morning."

"Jamie—"

"I know. You don't have to lecture me about it. I know I shouldn't do that, but I thought I could handle it. I feel… achy all over right before I take my dose, like my body is really craving it, so I was trying to fight it, but I'm starting to think that I can't. Sometimes I feel like the doses aren't enough."

"Do you think you are getting worse?" Doc asked in a 'you're getting worse but I don't want to worry you' voice.

"No!" Jamie said quickly and then collected himself. "No, I'm not getting worse." He wasn't getting worse, was he? "It's just—I don't know."

"Let me look at you," Doc began inspecting Jamie. He used a dim, small flashlight to test his eyes. Jamie had to resist the urge to squint. "Do you still have sensitivity to bright light?" Doc asked. Jamie nodded as Doc leaned in. "Your pupils are still slightly more dilated than normal which accounts for the sensitivity, and you are beginning to get some discoloration." Doc clicked the light off. "Better get that dose in soon," Doc said with a smile. He used a tongue depressor, not to inspect his mouth, but inspect his teeth, "Minor elongation on the canines, but nothing anyone should notice."

He used a stethoscope to listen to his breathing, and also his heart, his slow, barely beating heart. "Everything is the same as last time." He moved his hands down to Jamie's knee—his perfectly working knee. "Amazing," Doc breathed as if he had discovered a miracle, which, he sort of did. Jamie's knee was healed and he never had any kind of surgery. "You look the same as our last check up. Let me take a saliva sample and I can compare it to the others to be certain." Doc put on a pair of gloves and carefully swabbed the inside of Jamie's cheek and then cautiously put a plastic cover on the sample.

"I'll tell you what," Doc admired the encased saliva sample with scientific curiosity. "One day, we're going to find a way to reverse all of this. Doesn't it feel amazing to be a part of it?"

"Remarkable," Jamie mumbled sarcastically.

Doc pursed his lips. "How about you go back to your room and take a dose. Then let me know if that makes you feel any better. If it doesn't then we will start doing two doses a day. Nothing to be worried about." He said nonchalantly.

Jamie nodded and left Doc to his work. He thought that he never saw Doc stand still, unless he was inspecting something. He was always doing something, or helping someone, or researching something. That's probably what got him into this mess in the first place.

You see, Doc wasn't just any doctor, but one of the doctors that had created the cure. Dr. Darnell to be exact, the one who had been on the news. He had pleaded his way on to the island in its early stages and had been somewhat disguised ever since. He died his hair black (Finn always had to look for black hair dye when he went Running), and switched his glasses, which was surprisingly enough to keep the new people fooled. Most of the population hated his guts because technically he was responsible for turning the world to shit, but now, because of Jamie, he was certain he was close to a cure—a cure to the cure. An antidote.

Jamie slid his hand along the mahogany hand railing as he walked up the steps to his room. The lobby was quite elegant with a giant, hand woven rug, hardwood floors, a crystal chandelier, and giant staircases that lead up to the master suites on the upper level balcony. The asylum was built in an era of innovation for the mental hospitals. This place was like fine wine that only got better with age—that's how beautiful the architecture was.

Jamie eventually reached his room, shut and locked his door. He turned on a lamp before he leaned his hands on the desk and opened the long drawer. Several vials rolled from the sudden burst of motion. Jamie shakily picked one up and looked at it.

These were his doses, a predetermined amount that he was allotted a day. Too much and he would lose it, too little and he would lose it.

He knew that this was what he needed, what his body craved, but giving into this addiction only fed the demon inside.

He knew he should probably be concerned that he has been craving it more often, but he didn't care. All he wanted was the salty liquid in his mouth. He wanted to feel the life it gave him, the boost of energy. The high.

He twisted off the black top. Excess liquid dripped onto his hand, leaving a mini scarlet puddle. He licked it up greedily, already feeling the liquid run down his throat and reviving every muscle it touched. He placed the vial to his lips, tipped his head back, and downed the rest of the blood. He closed his eyes as the blood gave him a new energy.

There was a mirror over the desk. He looked into it.

He looked human. His eyes were completely brown. No red. His teeth were flat and straight. His skin had a faint flush to it.

This is how he kept it under control. This is how he kept people fooled.

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