DATE: 24TH JUNE 2179. TIME- 19:05
Coughlin and his friend Kevin were on clean up duty in the laboratory. They worked in silence. All they wanted to do was to get the main bits of what was left of their friends into a bag and into the morgue as quickly as possible.
Coughlin was picking up the remains of the people he'd been eating breakfast with, who used to sit next to him moaning about the state of the food. Both of them were soaked up to the elbows in blood and were sweating and panting as they used big hard yard brooms to get all of the bits into the bag. The welts of their boots had dried blood in them. Their hands had ingrained blood around the nails. All of their possessions were full of blood.
There wasn't much to examine. Hell, Coughlin thought as he surveyed the carnage inside the infirmary, there wasn't much to bury. It didn't make a lot of sense. Paris patrolled the infirmary, studying the walls whilst keeping a vigilant eye on the air duct. The bloodstains diminished gradually the higher up she looked. Behind her Coughlin continued to mop up as tears streamed down his face.