Interval 4 – Post merediem
The slate-gray sedan, sitting flanked by two squad cars, turned slowly out of the parking space and headed down to the road. Jin, sitting at the wheel, chanced a quick look at the Point man, riding shotgun beside her. He was looking out the window, in a trance-like state, his reflection in the window an unfamiliar face. She reflected that he looked strange in these civilian's clothes; with features unmasked, he looked good looking normal, though somehow a little vulnerable.
"How long has it been?" he asked, without turning. "Since… ATC?" The three simple letters that had caused all this trouble went tumbling out of his mouth.
"A week," Jin replied, sighing soundlessly. "It's been a week." She lapsed into silence, before she asked, "Do you remember anything?"
"I remember…" he began, and looked away, staring at the trees, the buildings, the cloudy sky.
"What?" Jin asked, making them lurch left onto another street. Three kids played hopscotch on the sidewalk. A teenage boy with his dog stopped walking when he saw their car and stared. Jin motioned for the Point man to open the glove box. As he withdrew a box of tissue paper, she handed him a bottle of water from the cup-holder. He wet the tissue and wiped the dried blood off his face.
"Alma. She's… alive," he said.
"That's impossible."
He leaned toward her. She could still smell the blood on him and kept her eyes on the road ahead. "I have to tell you something. That day, when we were being airlifted away from Auburn, I saw her."
As he spoke these words, Jin frowned. "What are you talking about? She's dead. We read the Origin reports. She…"
"She was climbing up into the helicopter with us." Jin's eyes widened as the green light of the intersection ahead of them turned red without having gone through yellow. The sedan halted in a squeal of brakes. Jin attempted to regain normal breathing.
"I…" Jin didn't want to tell him that she hadn't seen Alma in the helicopter with them. She frowned, trying to understand. "Do you mean when the helicopter bucked…?" She stopped, thinking about the implications. Of course, she didn't get an answer. He had returned to his contemplations of the outside world. Jin pushed against the accelerator. Unused to the strange silence, she reached for the car radio and turned it on.
"You're listening to TMS Auburn News – your news always comes first!" a male voice proclaimed. Jin glanced at the clock on the dashboard, which said three o'clock P.M.
"A massacre occurred in Auburn Memorial Hospital this morning," a woman said, her voice calm and objective, "when a comatose patient, unidentified at this time, awoke and murdered eleven of the hospital staff: nurses, doctors and security personnel. He apparently killed several with his bare hands and the others with a knife."
Jin sat quietly, wanting to turn the radio off. But her companion was listening with such a sharp intent she didn't dare back her thoughts up with actions.
"It was horrible," a woman sobbed, while other sounds attempted to drown out her voice. "He just ran at the nurse and broke her neck. She was screaming and begging, and he killed her. It just went on and on."
"Police surrounded the building a short while after the first murders," the reporter continued. "While leaving the hospital, the killer was taken down by an unknown man with a tranquilizer gun. He was taken into custody without any further incidents."
"This strange string of seemingly motiveless killings is the third strange occurrence in an interval of 5 days in the state of NY, the first of which happened Monday night, when an unidentified paramilitary force captured the ATC building in New York City. Fortunately, the building was back under control later in the evening, though all or most of the hostages were found dead.
"The incidents continued Tuesday morning. A large explosion occurred in a disused section of the industrial district of Auburn. Though no one was injured in the blast that originated from deep underground, this incident has left many deep impressions that won't be erased easily from citizens' memories."
"I woke up early in the morning," an agitated male voice said. "I didn't know what had woken me up, but I had the feeling it was something big. Sure enough, I started hearing sirens and stuff. I could see smoke in the distance. It was like the end of the world."
"Many also reported seeing a Black Hawk helicopter circling around the area of the blast. Though its origins are unknown, some believe it was being used to evacuate survivors. This theory remains highly speculative, as there weren't any people working in the area at the time of the –"
Jin sighed, turning off the radio. She looked at the Point man.
"I don't know what happened this morning," he said quietly. "I don't know what came over me. I don't know why I killed all those people."
Jin ignored his words. After a moment of silence, she said, "I'm tired of calling you F.E.A.R. Point man. I think it's time we called you by a real name."
"I…" He hesitated. "Quentin."
"Quentin it is," Jin said. She continued driving in silence. The road ahead of them was deserted on both lanes. Everyone in Auburn was either at work, at home, or in front of AMH. Quentin (henceforth we must call him thus) stared out his window, in noiseless contemplation of a beautiful, cold-looking stretch of water that reflected the gray clouds in the sky.
"What lake is this?" he asked.
"Owasco," Jin said, looking in the rearview mirror. "Don't look, but I think there's someone following us."
Quentin glanced into his side mirror. There was a large black vehicle tailing them a short distance behind. The windows were tinted so that the occupants were completely hidden from view. All he could see were the silhouettes of the people sitting in front.
"Maybe I'm wrong," Jin said with her voice so level it betrayed her nervousness, "but this car's been behind us since we left. I've got to do something; tell me if we're about to crash." Keeping one hand on the wheel, Jin leaned forward and began to feel around the car carpeting. Quentin watched the road with a statue-like concentration.
A sudden impact threw both occupants violently to the right; it was accompanied with a disconcerting crunching sound, the sound of metal sheets crushing and cracking inward under pressure. Quentin recovered first, glancing around sharply.
"Shit," Jin said, straightening up to take possession of the wheel with both hands.
The black car slammed into the gray sedan again, creating an even larger crashing sound as Jin cried out in pain. The sedan skittered to the side of the road and tumbled into the ditch lining it. The silence that followed was absolute.
Quentin moved groggily, unfastening his seat belt. He was aware of a thin trickle of blood on the right side of his face where his head smashed into the window. Jin wasn't moving.
"Ah… my ankle," she groaned. "I'm stuck." Quentin looked – the door had deformed and broken from the second impact and had somehow trapped her left leg. Perhaps she wasn't trapped at all; he couldn't be sure. In any case, she couldn't move. Her motions halting, like a crushed bug's, she reached down and picked an object up from the carpet.
"The gun…" Jin gasped, handing the pistol to Quentin. "Take it." She leaned back in a hiss of pain. "Shoot them if you have to. Forget about what happened this morning."
Quentin glanced around. In front of him, the lake; through the back windshield, he could see the road. The black car had stopped there. Jin groaned quietly beside him.
"They all deserve to die," Paxton whispered, as the four doors of the black car opened.
They stepped out of the car, their crisp uniforms creaking slightly with their every move. The buckles from the straps on their weapons made a dry clicking sound. The leader got out of the front passenger seat, stood with his feet apart and shouldered his shotgun, looking down at the vehicle in the ditch.
"We're moving in. Target appears to be down. Over and out," he said into his mike, before removing it from his ear. "It's time to play."