Dr.William Birkin

"No....". David's slumped form sat deathly still above a 9mm pistol and a few droplets of blood. He had returned to where he left Alex, only to find these two signs that she was gone. He had been sitting there for what seemed like forever, staring in horror and shock at the possibility she had been killed. No...she cant be dead....no...wait...the cleaner troops....shit...that means Markenson and Piers have her..and that means... . David stood up quickly, loading his pistol and walking towards the exit, his mind in a confused state of fear and rage. A part of him was telling him to stay, and to wait for the others, but another, more vocal part was telling him that the others didn't give a damn whether he lived or died..and that spending any more time around them than necessary was just a big risk. Hearing familiar voices, he turned and saw two figures approaching. "Winsor? Nathan?" he said, not loud enough to be heard, he was fairly sure it was them but would take no chances. Scooping up Alexandra's discarded 9mm, a Beretta 92fs "elite" model. Holding it in his left hand and the browning hi-power in his right, he aimed them both at the pair, swearing that if it was a pair of those damned troops that he would make their last moments painful....incredibly painful...

Markenson walked into the cold, dark room. The only illumination a single bulb hanging over the table. A soldier guarded the door and Piers stood in a corner tapping a needle with a greenish fluid in it. "Well well well...if this isn't the girl that David would betray us for...not much is she Piers? Just another transient human...destined to die...". Piers shrugged "If you'd have given me the choice...I'd make sure she didn't come out of here as a human...", his laughter was stifled by Markenson. "NO...we need her alive and completely uninfected to be of use to us!" he said, pointing at Alexandra's slouched form, propped up in a chair underneath the bulb. "You may begin the..'mental restructuring' when the interrogation has finished..I want her alive...I want Sunderland to see what we can do to her...I want him to beg for her life...we need her alive if we are to properly teach the proverbial prodigal son a lesson in the price of desertion...". Piers sighed, standing in the shadows "You're obsession with vengeance is going to kill us all my friend...". Markenson smiled grimly, lighting a cigarette, "Oh...maybe it will...but I'll make sure if we die they ALL suffer a hundred times as much as we will..". Piers and Markenson both began to laugh, as they stared at the bait for their trap..

"And the game begins..." chuckled piers, his eyes filling with an unspeakable hatred...

Carlos Oliveira

Nathan didn't speak out of regard for Winsor's distaste for conversation. Instead he tried letting his instincts guide him. Shaking his head he stopped.

"What's the matter now!" said Winsor as she stopped next to him.

"I can't concentrate. There are to many things going through my head right now."

"What do mean? Things going through your head?" she inquired.

Heaving a sigh, Nathan locked eyes with her. His look took her breath away as she saw Nathan's frightening demeanor. She had never seen Nathan display this much seriousness when looking at anyone before,....and having it directed at her made it worse.

"I need to get something off my chest Winsor. I know you like ticking off remarks at me but after I'm done talking to you, if I ever....Ever! Hear one word of what I've said touch your lips to insult me, I swear I'll kill you myself! I need to tell someone or I'm going to go insane....and you're the only one here so deal with it!"

She could only nod. Her will drain from her under his hawk-like glare. As he spoke it disappeared to a look of sorrow and exhaustion. A look...of loneliness.

"Before I met any of you when I lived in Canada, my parents and I lived together. I had a younger brother who was killed in a car accident. Shortly after that my mother died of severe heart failure. At school I was ridiculed and teased. People saying my mother left us. That she killed herself to get away from us. Winsor you wouldn't believe all the things they said. I hated them all. I just wanted to be accepted!.........I joined the Wrestling team for my father. It taught me self worth, and pride. Also it told me who I was. 3 years after that, my father and I left for Gaines. He took me here to start over. To make new friends and start a new life. Then all this happened......" he stopped closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. He was looking away from her but she could see the glaze of tears fighting to be released. Finding his voice he continued.

"My father was a CIA operative. We moved here on an assignment. The CIA was on to Isis and Blair. They sent him in knowing what was in there and he contracted the virus. He came home bloodied and looking like death walking...I...he...he made me shoot him telling me that he was already dead and if I didn't he would become a zombie. I refused to kill my father!! My only living relative!! He ordered me too and I squeezed the trigger. I killed my own father."

She wanted to reach out but it seemed that to do so might be wrong so she stood still and let him finish.

"After the school I was captured by a man named Piers! He caged me and showed me what remained of my father. The bastard couldn't leave him be and sent soldiers to retrieve his body so he could experiment on it! He made my father into a monster!........For the second time in one night...I killed my father." he finished in no more then a whisper.

"I..." she started but was cut off.

"I'm all alone Winsor. I've got nothing to live for. The only reason I keep going is for you people. You guys never judged me. You gave me hope that somewhere I might find the meaning of friendship,...and now I need it more then ever....." Nathan finished his ranting and stumbled trying to take out his smokes. Lighting it he took a long drag and sat down.

"God that feels better. I...I'm sorry you had to listen to that. We can go now." he said as he stood looking down at the ground.

She looked at him a moment before stepping in front of him lifting his head with her hand so he was looking into her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak.......

David peered through the flashes of moonlight and caught a glimpse of a headset.

(Nope definitely not Winsor or Nathan.) Quietly he followed them from the shadows.

Joker

The events that had transpired in the last 24 hours or so were enough to make anyone lose it, but somehow, Ryan hadn't severed the subtle mental connection between his mind and the real world just yet. He didn't know how. He almost wished he had. But he hadn't.

Trudging through the park, assault rifle in hand and Vanessa in tow, he began to think about the information he had not long since received.

His older sister, Joanna, was right in the middle of this crap and now, she was dead. "No, not dead", Ryan corrected himself in his conscious stream. "Murdered."

It had come as a real shock to Ryan, one he didn't at all expect. After his parents had a falling-out because his father wasn't home enough (being a SWAT EMT necessitated being on call 24/7), his father and his sister fought as well. As much as Ryan desperately tried to play the negotiator in these fights, he was helpless to control the events that transpired. He was the youngest, who'd listen to him? Eventually, his sister just left. No warning, not even a God damn letter. Just up and gone.

Now, Ryan not only finds that she got herself into some sort of biological disaster working at the Gaines hospital (another revelation new to Ryan), but that she got killed for it. He found himself thinking that if he'd just been a little more persistent, a little more forceful, a little more something, he might have actually stopped the whole chain of events and his sister would be alive.

But that wasn't to be. Ryan had failed everyone he tried to help and he wondered whether he should have even bothered. He was only going to fail again. His sister, his classmates, Paul...

The story of his life: The Good, but incompetent, Samaritan.

But within it all was a glimmer of hope. If he hadn't turned back for Alex at that crucial moment, she would have died. Granted, it was a "touch-and-go" existence she was allowed until that serum was found, but it was the best he could do.

The gravedigger. Ryan was the first to just say, "Fuck it", and go head-to-head with it. He may have done it only to satisfy his own burning hatred for what these things did to people, but he did it all the same. He took it on and came out the victor as the gravedigger retreated to be killed another day, if it even lived that long...

Then there was David. Despite multiple gunshot wounds, Ryan was able to stabilize his condition to at least a satisfactory level. Then again, that bastard had been playing them all like pianos the whole damn time. Ryan wondered if helping a backstabbing son-of-a-bitch counted as "helping" at all.

Vanessa stopped thinking about Jarred and just passively watched Ryan for a while, her curiosity growing with each step. He certainly seemed different now, not saying a word, unusually focused on something, much more solemn than usual. It was all starting to take its toll and that was clearly visible.

Figuring it would do Ryan some good to talk, Vanessa tried to get his attention for a moment.

"Ryan? Are you alright?"

Ryan didn't respond.

"Look, you can talk to me. I don't mind, really..."

Still no answer.

"Ryan, say something."

Ryan stopped.

"What? What do you want me to say, huh? There's nothing to discuss! It's just another easily-prevented death that I didn't do enough about!"

Already, Ryan had clearly ignored Nathan's advice. He wasn't being ruled by reason, he was being ruled by emotion. So many years of having to keep his problems just that, his problems, were only now showing signs of exploding forth.

Ryan sighed sadly, then started again.

"I'm sorry, you didn't need to hear that."

"Hey, we all need to vent every once in a while. That seemed like it was a long time coming. But, damn it, stop blaming yourself for everything! How do you think the rest of us feel? We can't do any more than you can, so just start dealing with it because we need you as much as you need us! What could you have done, huh? Even if you could think of something, it's too late now! Whatever happens, those people are dead! End of story! Bereave? Yes! But kick yourself in the ass about it constantly? Hell, no!", Vanessa shouted, hoping to snap Ryan out of this melancholy.

Ryan was shocked. Vanessa was apologetic.

"I'm sorry..."

"What? Don't even say that. You're right. Don't you ever apologize for being right. I'd rather you tell me the cold, hard truth and make me see a point in it all than give me a lot of futile window-dressing and let me drive myself insane."

Ryan gave a quick smile which was returned by Vanessa. With that bit of soul-searching, he had found reason again. This time, he promised, he wouldn't let it go.

With that, both youths kept walking.

The rustling of the leaves, the calm blow of the wind, the soft creaking of the entrance gates. All these noises penetrated the thin night air, creating an atmosphere of foreboding solitude.

As seconds passed by, the ambience faded into a distant, yet cacophonous clamor of multiple decayed larynxes orchestrating a surreal ensemble of moans, almost psychotic in their utterance, each with a distinct undercurrent for the taste of flesh.

Vanessa heard it first.

"What... what is that?", she asked, already knowing the answer.

Noting the chaotic harmony, Ryan responded instinctively...

"Death in E flat..."