As they walked down the dimly lit streets, past empty and torn buildings and other wreckages of human civilisation, he could not help but look down at her face. He did not hesitate to stare, to study and analyse her, as she was blind and could not see him. But even though her large hazel eyes did not allow her to see the world, they allowed him to see her; their expressiveness told him of her every thought and every fear. She seemed to have calmed down now; still sombre, but the fear and panic had faded. He could hear her heartbeat; it was slowing, and colour had returned to her cheeks.
"I really appreciate this," she broke the silence. "I don't like having to ask for help, but there was no way I could get home by myself."
He did not respond to her gratitude. He was silent for a moment, and then he glanced at her curiously. "How did you shoot that man if you cannot see?" he asked.
It was the first full sentence he had said. She found his voice to be deep, and possessing a solemn calmness that was as gentle as a murmur, but at the same time concealing something much more savage. He had an old-worldly accent, which she could only place to be English.
"I can see some things – mostly just light and shadows, and movement. It's hard when it's dark, but sounds tell me where things are."
"You could have shot me," he said, not with any real concern.
"No," she replied nonchalantly. "I followed your sound ever since you showed up. I knew where you were."
Her sudden confidence just now surprised him. His gaze flickered to her face, then back to the dark street ahead. "I'm curious to know why anyone would be on these streets at night, let alone a blind girl… unaccompanied."
"I was meeting a friend."
"And it seemed like a good idea to meet this friend in the middle of the night in a dark alleyway?" His tone was more curious than condescending, though perhaps a little bit sarcastic.
"They dragged me into that alleyway," she retorted. "I was waiting by the road."
A few paces behind them, a wild dog trotted with quiet footsteps and hungry eyes, scouring the streets for food. He was quite impressed that she was able to notice this, shifting her attention to behind her, when even his own senses could only just detect the presence of the dog. After determining it was not a threat, she continued, "My friend was supposed to pick me up. We were supposed to leave the city tonight – take the midnight train to Washington."
He looked at his watch; thirteen minutes past midnight. "Looks like you missed your train."
"Actually… I came to tell him that I'm not leaving."
Again, he turned to her, surprised. "Why would anyone choose to stay in this place?" he muttered in his deep voice.
"Because…" she paused and looked down. "There's something here that's important to me."
"Important enough to risk your safety?"
"Important enough to risk everything…"
He looked at her, waiting for her to explain. And she could sense his questions before he asked them.
She took a deep breath. "I know this sounds crazy, but I think we're close to finding a vaccine for this… plague."
"Vaccine?" Now he was intrigued.
"Yeah," she said, seeming a little more animated now, as if life had returned to her. "You see, a good friend of mine is one of the best molecular biologists in the country – Doctor Graeme Price." She paused to see if that name sparked any reaction from the stranger, but it did not. "He's been researching a vaccine ever since this whole thing started. He's close, I know it… and I want to be here when it happens. We were in this together since the beginning."
"Hnn…"
She could not decipher if his response was a chuckle at the ridiculous notion of a vaccine, or one of genuine curiosity. Perhaps to him, it was a bit of both.
"You're involved in this… research?" he asked.
"I guess you could say that."
"Then tell me, how would this vaccine work?"
"Ok, where do I start?" she muttered to herself. "Well… At first we thought this thing was a parasite – you know… the worms, and the altered behaviour in their hosts. But then it didn't make sense. You see, parasites live off their host, but these things, they don't live off us; they change us… at a genetic level; no parasite can do that. These worms aren't parasites, but carriers of a genetic code that alters human DNA. These worms are merely a vessel for the… virus."
"Merely a vessel?" he asked, staring at her intently. The deepness of his voice came out like a purr. But with the slightest change in tone, it could become a growl.
"Yeah," she replied. "The worms are just carriers, and the key is in the genetic material they carry. Anyway, we know this thing can only infect humans. We found that these worms don't release the virus until it recognizes it's inside a human host, which means it has sensors for reading DNA. So maybe we can introduce an agent that interferes with its sensors so it won't recognise the human host. Essentially, make them blind…" she paused, "…like me," she said with a slight smile.
Her explanation intrigued him; he had never heard his enemy described in such a scientific manner, not even by his associate Doctor Ephraim Goodweather. But he knew better than to be hopeful, as throughout the times, men had always thought of new and inciting ways of defeating this evil, but always failed. Still, he wanted to know more.
"Has it been tested?" His questions were becoming a little more eager.
"No. We… I mean he," she corrected herself, "Doctor Price, is still working on it. Besides, to be able to test this, we would need to administer the vaccine on uninfected human subjects, and then purposely infect them without knowing if the vaccine will work. I don't know how we would do that."
"Then you better be certain that your vaccine works."
Suddenly, the burst-fire of an automatic rifle tore through the silence, followed by some inaudible yelling, and the loud engine of a vehicle. The sounds were a little too close for comfort. Startled, she reactively grabbed his arm and pulled herself close to him. She could feel the strength and muscularity of his stature. It was the type of figure that would make a woman feel protected to be near. However, he had not found a woman turning to him for protection since many lifetimes ago. The feeling had become alien to him. He looked down at her… he could feel the warmth of her body… he could sense her fear. He was sure that if she had her sight, if she could see him, the night would have played out very differently. Perhaps she would have pulled the trigger in that alleyway. But instead, here she was, clinging to him tightly.
In silent agreement, they both hastened their pace. Moments later, a military Humvee turned into the street. There was blood on the side of the vehicle – human blood. The hunter pulled the hood of his coat over his head and turned his face away. The vehicle slowed as it drove up beside them.
A soldier leaned out the window and addressed the girl, "Is everything alright, ma'am?" He then looked suspiciously at the hooded man beside her, eyeing him up and down, trying to capture glimpse of his face that he was obviously trying to hide.
"I'm fine," she answered dismissively, drawing the soldier's attention back to her. She could have easily turned to the soldiers for assistance, but instead she chose to stay with the stranger.
After giving the hooded figure a final stare, and reassured that the woman was not in distress, the solider said, "Please return to your homes; you shouldn't be out here," before the vehicle drove off.
The hunter was relieved; too many incidents like this ended in blood-shed. But not this time. He turned his head back into the light, and the pair continued walking.
They stopped outside an apartment building that seemed less in shambles than ones on the previous block. There were a few broken windows, but also a few with light peeping through the cracks of blinds, suggesting people still resided here. Perhaps because the building was reasonably secure – metal bars had been bolted across all the windows on the ground floor, and a solid metal gate with a sturdy lock guarded the front entrance of the building. It was enough to deter intruders, both human and otherwise.
"I believe we're here," he said.
She was starting to grow fond of his deep voice, and she found the tone of sophistication in his old English to be a pleasant contrast against the savagery of the new world. In a way, she thought it was a distinguishing contrast against his own savagery, that of which she was certain – even though she didn't see how exactly he dealt with those street thugs, she knew it was not gently.
Her hand slid down the rough fabric of his sleeve as she somewhat reluctantly let his arm slip out of her grip.
"I… uh… don't really know how to thank you, so…" She pulled out an envelope of documents from her pocket. "Take this. It will get you out of the city."
He felt some appreciation for her gesture, regardless of whether it was out of kindness or purely compensation. He looked down at the envelope for a moment, and then back up at her. "I won't be leaving here any time soon."
"Why would anyone stay in this place?" she smiled as she asked him the same words he had asked her.
"Hnn," a smile escaped from his lips only briefly. "Hold onto it. You might change your mind." He stared at her unabashedly. Although she could not see, she felt his gaze on her, but somehow it did not make her feel uncomfortable. He noticed her beauty, but his gaze was not of the same physical admiration that a man would look upon a woman; after all, he was not a man.
"What's your name?" she asked. Before he could answer, a dog bark caught her attention. From around the corner, a golden Labrador came running, with its harness dangling behind him. "Caesar!" she cried as she crouched down and the dog ran into her arms. "There you are!"
She thought she had lost him when those men dragged her away. But somehow, her trusted companion had made his way back home… back to her side. The dog wasn't just her companion, but he was her eyes… and her freedom.
After a brief happy reunion, she stood back up. But she noticed a sudden emptiness surrounding her – she could no longer sense the stranger's presence.
"Are you there?" she asked quietly, almost as if she did not expect anyone to hear her words. And indeed, no one was there. The mysterious stranger, to whom she owed her life, had disappeared, leaving not even a name. However he left her with a sense of calm, perhaps from his voice and the way he spoke, or the courteous manner in which he escorted her home, not once taking advantage of her helpless situation. Although he said very little, and she knew even less about him, she felt comforted by their encounter. She slept easy that night, which was a rare luxury for anyone in these times, but especially for her.