I later learned that Vinson wasn't quite the man in charge of my imprisonment, but rather a stubby Officer Carl Alfred, his badge had proclaimed. He wasn't particularly tall, or big, like Vinson. He was not short, either, just at an average height. However, his tightly packed muscles look like he could take upon one of those brawlers all by himself. In fact, I was half afraid that his shirt would burst every time he crossed his arms at me.
He was a quiet man, this Alfred, but not susceptible to the games, and lost a lot more when playing it. When I told him if he ever saw me free I would eat him one nibble at a time, he practically stormed from the room. I think I preferred Vinson; at least the captain could stand his own.
The strangest thing about Alfred was perhaps that he didn't initiate any conversation unless he was talked to. And by that I mean he would stand with a stupid stare until I specifically ask him a question. Otherwise, he might not even respond to that, either.
I remember the first interaction I had with him that marked him out as peculiar. It was the second day, maybe? Time lost its meaning in a place of artificial lighting and glass walls. "I am hungry," I had said, looking at him curiously. Of course I couldn't specifically feel the need known as hunger, but I did know I would need some biomass soon. He stared me down for several seconds, and then just grunted, as thought my request meant nothing to him. I thought I was a bit angry, then having to force human emotions down because they served no purpose other than a good excitement from watching scientists.
I knew someone had heard my comment, because soon after a tray of what looked like black sludge was fed through the tiny little guard at the bottom of the wall. It was immediately locked after that, so I had no way of getting out. But rather than to focus on the missed opportunity, I turned my attention to the sludge. It was quite gooey, like jelly, and slippery, like butter. I honestly thought for a moment that they mistreated prisoners to feed them garbage like this. In addition, I heard the whispers of the watching eyes. This was no more than an experiment, to see how I fed. I was disgusted at their methods, but I could not restrain myself from pulling away a small amount of the sludge on my finger. It looked like death, and smelled like death. I closed a fist over it and let it seep into my skin.
I was surprised. It was meat, dead meat, but meat nonetheless. And, not only that, it was infected meat, probably taken from a dead walker. The dormant virus inside gave me an enormous boost, but I didn't let it show, appearing to still be examining a nonexistent piece of sludge in my hand. Now that I had an idea of what it was, I knew that it would be in my favor to devour the rest of it, and let as little of my true nature show as possible. I grabbed the tray and put it on the unused bed, and with my back to them, effectively blocking out most of their view, I let my hands run through the sludge, each contact absorbing the flesh into me, until I felt like I was alive again. Finally I sat again on the ground, the tray beside me, and stared back at the people watching.
ooo
"You have a visitor," announced a man in a dull voice, looking stupidly into the cell. He had no rank, at least from his sleeve. I nodded without looking at him. I had had only one visitor in the entire stay, so I knew who I was expecting. I waited, sitting cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed, my back to the transparent glass.
There was a door opening and closing behind me, then footsteps which stopped just short. "Hello again, Ms. Snow." I stood and turned. Captain Vinson looked still quite the same as every time, though growing more weary, as though living life itself was a toll to his soul. There were shadows under his eyes and darkness in his face. He had grown thinner, along with a small buzz on his chin. He no longer stood so proud, just tired, like a mountain in a storm. Though that did not stop the carefully crafted marble of an expression.
"Hello, Captain Vinson."
"Edward, shut off all recordings. And close the blinds while you're at it, eh? And mute the room." he said, over my shoulder. I assume Edward was the lead scientist in watching me. What a meaningless job. Then he looked at me again, with more strength than before. I only cocked my head to the side, waiting. "I want to know something."
"You always want to know something, every time something different. If you must point out the obvious, then you are wasting your own time, because I have all day to sit and talk."
He was taken back for a moment, as though surprised I was capable of words. I suppose I couldn't blame him, as I mostly listened and rarely talked, as emphasized by "Edward." But then he recovered, his face once again dropping to neutral. "Very well, then we will get past the pointless pleasantries. What I want to know this time is something else, not the usual crap I am ordered to extract from you to help recreate our own virus." I was too taken back, though said nothing. At least he was being honest. "I want to know about the society of the virus created beings, like you."
"Thinking about joining us, Captain?" I wasn't sneering, only deadpanned. "Thought not. After I answer your question, I have one of my own." He considered it, then nodded. "Good. Ok, so first of all, you have to clarify your question. It's just too general."
"There has been … conflict; I guess it's the best way to put it, conflict between the various infected. And I, along with my superiors, are curious. If we can understand why this is happening, perhaps we can use it to our advantage and save the rest of earth."
"Ahh…"
"Ah what? Ah, you can answer it? Or ah, you have no idea what I'm talk about?" he demanded, though not harshly.
"It's ah, I can answer it." He seemed to breath a silent sigh of relief. I found him slightly amusing, so showered him with a bare smile. "The reason for conflict is this: like humans, the viral beings are a species themselves, and like humans, every species has internal conflict." His mouth formed an O. "So here's a simple way to look at it: there are three factions in the infected world. First is all the zombies, or walkers, as we call them, because they walk around and attack everything in sight, including humans and possibly other infected. Second is the beasts. You know, those giant things that whack down helicopters and stuff." His lips tightened, but he nodded. "Ok, great. Now third, you have the evolved." He stilled. I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. "The evolved are on their own side, and they look very much like humans, like you or me, and they have powers, powers to form blades out of their hands or jump higher than buildings. Among them are more powerful versions: prototypes. Prototypes are evolved with more strength, endurance, speed, powers, and are capable of shifting their appearance to be anyone else. So needless to say, the last group is the most dangerous of the three. If you saw conflict, then I would probably guess it's between the beasts and the evolved."
After my brief lecture, he only stood there, thinking. Scratching his chin, rolling his eyes, deep thinking. "Well," he finally concluded, "that was a lot to take in. Before, we were so sure that the whole virus is hell bent on destroying us, so we fired at anything that moved. But now, at least we can prioritize our targets."
I had nothing to say, and said nothing. Seeing that, he asked again. "Which side are you on?"
"That was a very direct question."
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Now if we keep stating the obvious, then aren't we just pointlessly wasting our time?"
"Touché." I smiled despite myself. "I am nobody's side but my own. So in a way, you can say there are five factions in this war: three infected, you, me."
"Huh" was all he said as he nodded and began putting me at loneliness again. I watched him intensely. He seemed to feel my gaze, and as when his hand almost touched the keypad that would open the door, he looked back. "Didn't you have a question?"
"Not anymore."
Then he was gone. I suddenly felt like I was no longer in control of the game. Nobody was, for he, too, was caught in its stream, blown away by the force of war.
ooo
My next meeting with Captain Vinson was even more unusual, and unusual as in unusual for the unusual meetings in such unusual circumstances. It might have been a day since the last, all the while Officer Alfred glared down at me. I idly stared back, not once blinking. I think he was a little unnerved after an hour, and promptly excused himself from his duties for a cup of coffee.
I remember that the first sign of strangeness about it was there was no one to announce the presence of a visitor, which had became a sort of tradition. I remember how the door silently opened to reveal a worn Captain Vinson. I remember the tired man standing there, quiet and still, not the captain, nor a warrior. He fixed on me with a deathly stare.
"Captain, do come in," I gestured, ignoring the fact that he quite looked like a zombie himself. Not only was his hair uncombed, the buzz grew more, giving him a rugged look. The uniform was not ironed, nor the collar straight.
He came in with a grunt, the door automatically closing behind him. Once again he raised his voice to some unknown behind me: "Edward, close the room!" Then we just waited. Five, ten, fifteen. At thirty he spoke suddenly. "I need you to tell me something: are you my friend?" The question caught me off-guard.
"Well, in the past week I've known you, I don't think we're close enough to–"
"Let me rephrase the question: are you OUR friend?" Putting a heavy emphasis on "our."
I narrowed my eyes. He watched. This was a dangerous game he played at, one that I was not sure I wished to so eagerly participate in. Yet I understood his gambit. So I gave him a calculated answer, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
"That doesn't answer the question."
I said nothing. Again, we stared. Five, ten, fifteen. At thirty he threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Never mind. That was a bad question anyways. How about this: are you our enemy?"
I looked to all the bullet holes they tried to put in me, all the pain and suffering I went through because of them. I saw my own grievances against them since the first day I woke to find something wrong. The virus only compounded to the images of blood, the dead bodies, the dead breaths. Yet somehow, under the string of death threats, my own answer surprised me. "No." He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, a long string of tightness escaping his body. I thought he might fall, but when all he did was stand there, I was again forced to break the silence, "Rough night?"
He looked at me with dead man's eyes. He seemed to want to laugh, yet couldn't. "Yeah, you could say that," he said, with a mixture of mirth and death.
The silence we sporadically lapsed into ticked with tension. If only someone was to break through that door now with guns blazing, or even the entire building shake with the roar of a goliath. But nothing happened, and the silence stretched, and stretched, until we all suffocated in its embrace.
"How bad is the situation outside?"
This time he didn't even bother to answer, just staring at the ground, shaking his head. When he did look up again, his eyes were haunted. "Tell me something." I waited. "What would you do if you are trapped in a sea of screaming souls, each wanting to take a bite out of you or the person next to you? What would you do if you there are men under your command who aren't even human, just those nasty pricks waiting to slice someone's throat in their sleep?"
I thought for a moment, but found nothing to say. He seemed to understand, and only shook his head again. But when he turned to go, I stopped him before he could leave. "I want to spread the word of an Annalisa Snow being imprisoned in whatever facility this. Discreetly. No need for anyone to know you're the one spreading it."
He looked at me in surprise, then like I was crazy. Perhaps I was, because I was risking myself for nothing but a potential benefit to them, them who had captured me and caged me, them who had attacked me and harmed me. I thought he might refuse, and I would have to argue. The only problem was, I wasn't sure if I could argue for my execution. But then he only mumbled something about agreement, and slipped onto his way again.
Alfred came by later and found me lying on the ground, eyes closed.
ooo
During the day, I was being constantly watched for possible new developments to an array of strange chemicals they pumped into my room, or the series of oddities that came in through a metal tray. So far, the biggest lead they had gotten was that I had a nasty sense of humor, when I pretended to be unconscious, then jumped up in the face of a guard who came to tap the glass, who scrambled back in terror. They were not amused.
During the night was when things got quiet. No one watched me but surveillance cameras and their unblinking red lights. Sometimes I would pretend they were robots, and act the part myself, by walking around straight-legged and wobbling. Other times the light above me turned off, leaving the entire visual in darkness. That was true punishment, the solitary confinement, without warmth, with comfort, without a guiding hand.
They came during the night, quicker than I had predicted.
That night the light was just another shadow in the ceiling, and darkness enveloped everything. Even the lights of the cameras were off. Perhaps they decided recording me was a waste of electricity.
I heard the tiniest sound of a key fitting into a lock, then a door swinging open. I had expected them to wait at least until the night guards went to sleep and the day troops woke up, for maximum confusion in case of emergency, but it seemed like they were short of planning. In the observation room, three silhouettes moved in silent unison. They took their spots close to the one-way glass. Two of them were pressing buttons while the third one watched me.
Of course, I made sure they couldn't see me move. I was sitting with my back against the wall, eyes closed in a feigned sleep. The walls around me were strangely colored, though nothing to be noted in such a dark light.
"What's taking so long?"
"I don't have clearance."
"What? You couldn't have said this earlier?"
"Let me try. I have more rank than you."
There was another moment of silence as the three got the work, then a hiss of air escaping and some mechanical gear working.
"Ok, we're good. Now we just have to wait."
They spoke in hushed whispers, though I heard them as though they were whispering to my ears.
"The archbishop will reward us greatly if we kill her."
The tinted glass slid away, opening my room to the observation room, which was just as dark as everywhere else. Empty rows of seat were unnaturally still, a single podium in front holding its breath. The three shadows were standing behind a counter of sorts, one with some lights for buttons. One of them flipped over and began a guarded walk to me.
I saw only a heavy hood and a camouflage jacket, and a large blade fused into the arm of the wielder as it was raised over my tiny form. The other two had grown bolder, creeping closer and closer. The three of them, infiltrators in the military, loyal to the enemy.
"For the Order," the armed one whispered. The blade came down. The jaws snapped shut, and the walls exploded.
A/N
I really hate posting chapters prematurely, because it throws my whole plan off and then I have to go back and renumber everything. But since I haven't been posting a lot, and I know that I personally like chapters to be of moderate length, I'll separate this chapter into two.
Happy Early Thanksgiving, people! I will be taking a short vacation break next week, but will continue to work on the story as much as time allows.
To Sano Hibiki,my faithful reviewer: I enjoy putting plot-twists into my stories. You will be seeing more of them later. And yes, do expect major wars between the military and the infected. However, note that since Anna is speaking about the past, you should assume things settle down eventually.
To Evolution: The original Bloodtox only damages infected tissue barely and instead causes extreme pain, which is why Alex Mercer is able to develop an immunity against it. However, the new Bloodtox not only does that, but also eats away at biological substances, like an acid, which makes immunity impossible. This is also the reason why humans is susceptible to poison by Bloodtox.
