"Oh my God! Paul, y-you made it!" Emma let out a choked sob as she jolted forward and collapsed in Paul's arms, feeling a wave of relief crash over her weary-form as she wrapped her arms around the friend - and possibly more - that she had thought to be dead mere moments previously. "We made it!"
"Emma, I'm sorry,"
Emma felt a chill run down her spine as the soft tone of Paul's voice filled his ears, the musical-hating man singing softly as he tightened his arms around her. "You lost."
Emma struggled backwards from his restraining arms, her eyes looking upwards in confusion, her smile faltering as Paul grinned, confident notes coming from his mouth as he sang a song only he knew, swaying to music only he could hear.
"Paul?" She asked quietly, her smile beginning to fade, replaced with a nervous frown as she slowly took a few steps backward, putting a few more feet of empty space between her and Paul.
Paul only smiled toothily back at her, his once expressive eyes now blank, emotionless.
"Emma, I'm sorry you lost your way." Paul took a step towards her, his hand - cold, clammy, unnatural - reached out and clasped onto hers, tightly intertwining their fingers together, in a cruel mockery of what Emma used to wish he would do. She didn't want this now, this wasn't her Paul.
"Paul, you're scaring me-" Emma tried to step away, but Paul's tight grip on her hand kept her in place as he blankly stared at her with a vacant smile, his eyes wide.
"What if I told you I made it?" Paul sang loudly as he stepped backwards in dance, pulling Emma to him as he grabbed both of her hands in his, swirling and moving throughout the hospital room with his unwilling partner as he sang. "This is the life that I chose?"
"Would you believe it Emma?" Emma yanked her one of her hands free as Paul - or the alien scum that was pretending to be the man she had known - threw his hand out as part of his dance, trying her best to tug her other hand free, which was still tightly gripped onto by Paul, but she couldn't escape his white-knuckled grip.
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
Emma gasped as Paul pulled her back in, hovering behind her as he placed his hand on her shoulder, his cool breath ghosting over her ear as he leaned in next to her. "What if I told you a story?" Paul leant to the side, pulling Emma with him, before moving back up, swaying side to side as Emma struggled. "That settled all the dust?" Emma stumbled as Paul abruptly spun her around, pulling her backwards with a friendly smile and a beckoning gesture of his hand.
"I'm still the man you trust," Emma watched as Paul winked, mouthing a few words in her direction.
'Follow my lead.'
"Wh-what?" Emma stumbled as Paul continued backwards, new lyrics bursting forth from his lips as he nodded at her. "Paul, are you-?"
Not infected..?
Paul pulled Emma close to him, leaning down to put his face to hers.
"It's inevitable for us..." Paul leaned in, whispering a few short words, "Emma, pretend." That was all the infected - not infected? - man said before dropping their intertwined hands, running past her and turning to block the exit of the hospital's lobby, his voice rising in tempo as he sang new lyrics.
"Before I had no ambition, but now my life is a song!" Emma gasped as Professor Hidgens jumped out of the shadows lining the dimly lit room, Paul throwing up an arm to rest on Hidgens' shoulder as the two of them stared at Emma, unnervingly singing the same lines with huge smiles plastered across their faces.
"Don't you want to see me happy," Emma flinched as Paul and Hidgens both snapped their fingers and spun around as they danced towards her, only to let out a shocked shriek as she turned around to see her nurse throw her arms out towards her, only missing by a few inches as Emma jumped backwards. "Is it so tragically wrong?"
As Paul grabbed her shoulders and began to swing her to the imaginary music, Emma could barely hear the words he was singing over the pounding of her heartbeat, the sounds of the gasping and quick breaths she was dragging in one after another as panic took root in her mind.
What was going on?!
As Paul backed away and Emma turned around, her eyes widened to see the rest of Paul and Hers' friends - Bill, Ted, Charlotte, Sam, Nora, they were all there - dancing behind Paul, identical fake smiles and vacant eyes across their faces as they sang.
Emma jolted as Paul knelt down in front of her - singing something about puking in her "food bin", ew - and smiled.
"Can I kiss you?"
Emma stared in shock, but managed to stutter out a yes.
As Paul leaned close, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ear with a loving smile, he whispered lowly to the barista, "Pretend to be infected after. Just dance and sing a few lines, then I'll get us out." Paul softly smiled, not a fake smile this time. "I love you Emma."
Emma melted as Paul covered her lip with his, the barista slightly falling against him as he pressed their lips together, his hand cupping her cheek gently before he - regretfully - drew away.
The room was silent, the rest of the Infected waiting with baited breath to see if Paul had succeeded.
Emma looked up at Paul, and took in a deep breath.
Before springing into dance, reaching out to grasp Paul's hand, pulling him close to her and settling a hand on his hip as she moved around him, Paul expertly copying her movements as she did.
"Paul," Emma cried out as she spoke her first words of song, trying her best to remember the words and rhythm that Paul had early, "I understand now," Emma whirled around, her hair whipping around her face as the Infected surrounding them hummed to her words. "And I want to join the Hive, if only..."
"You'll show me your hands!" Emma darted away from Paul as she moved into a new dance number, remembering the song that the policemen had sung earlier and belting out the opening words to it, which cause the Infected to stumble over eachother as they dashed into a line in the middle of the room behind her, singing out in chorus to the lines they knew by heart.
"Show me your hands, show me your jazz hands!" Paul danced closer to her until they were shoulder to shoulder, jumping around and waving their hands in their air as they slowly and ever so slight moved, beat by beat, towards the doors of the hospital. "Get 'em up!"
"Or you'll end up in cuffs!" Emma completed Paul's line, the two linking arms with a shared glance as they jumped into a set of improvised moves, the Infected paying little attention as they sang their hearts away, grinning at an unseen audience.
"Emma, run, now." Paul hissed in Emma's ear, his hand snaking behind her back and pushing the exit door open. "Don't look back."
And that she did. With a last note flung from her lips, Emma whirled around and pushed the door that Paul held agape, sending it flying open as she burst through it, her legs hitting the sidewalk outside and pushing herself forward, the barista taking a brief moment to glance around before bolting for a couple of bikes that were luckily propped up in the bike stands against the hospital's wall.
As she pulled a bike from the rack, Emma could see Paul - who had exited only moments after her - pushing a dumpster against the doors, which she could see the Infected piling up against, vocal screams and cries in harmony emitting from their throats as Emma and Paul escaped infection.
"Hurry, grab one!" Emma nodded to the bikes as Paul finished blocking off the doors and ran up to her, her legs already straddling her bike. "That won't hold them forever. We need to get out of here, and fast."
"Agreed." Paul quickly grabbed another bike, the only other one that wasn't padlocked to the bars of the bike rack, and swung his legs over the seat. "Let's go."
And that they did, the pair swiftly peddling down the street and away from Clivesdale hospital, the deed to a 5-acre plot of land in Colorado safely stowed in her backpack, the piece of paper possibly the way to a new - and music-free - life for her and Paul.
As the hospital quickly disappeared behind them, and the pair followed street signs towards the edge of town, their only goal was to get distance between them and the Infected. Once they were far enough away, they would figure something out.
Emma would be damned if she'd let this stop her from growing her pot farm and getting rich.
And of course, she wouldn't say no if a cute little businessman wanted to accompany her. They were friends afterall.
But maybe more.