A/N: My story will not involve instant romance. My pairings will not fall in love with each so easily; it will be gritty and messy before they even get to the point of liking each other. This dark fiction will probably never have rainbows and sunshine on the other side, so… don't expect it. Also Olivia and Peter are slightly younger in my fiction than in the TV show and for a good reason. Peter is 26 and Olivia 24. Words: 12,165
Chapter 2- Of Secrets and Origins
Alternate Universe
A splinter group of the ZFT organization believed not in world domination or Bell's plan of Nenogensis. Rather complete and total annihilation of the prime universe excluding the alternate universe's own demise. They worked behind the scenes to implement the final stages of such plan. One brilliant mind, Catherine Watts was behind the manipulation of a certain virus that would cripple the prime universe. The completed viruses were now in the hands of a male and female shape-shifter that crossed a soft spot between the two worlds. Both were instructed to deposit the package into willing hosts and then terminate the evidence of their existence.
Four months Ago in Delhi, India
A young boy of seventeen walked the dark alleyways searching for food in dumpsters or waste bins. He never quite understood how restaurants in the nicer neighborhoods of Delhi could waste so much food like it grew on trees or something. Anyhow he managed to score a decent meal: vegetable curry with a slight sour smell to it and rice on the side. He sat next to the dumpster he got it from and proceeded to eat with his hands happy for a meal this evening unlike many days he would go without. Unbeknownst to the boy, a figure crept behind him and tapped his shoulder. He had no time to identify who the person was since he wasn't given a chance, the figure swung back his fist and knocked the boy completely out. His face completely sprawled down on the ground, the bowl of curry and rice scattered about him.
The shape-shifter quickly went about delivering the package, the blue tinged virus swirled safely in a syringe and he thrusts the eighteen gauge needle into the bone marrow of the boy's left leg careful to not let a single drop of it go to waste by means of the Z track method. He took out his silencer puts it to the side of his head, clicked the trigger and effectively puts an end to his existence.
Hours later the boy woke up to dawn. He hissed at the pain in his leg, and he looked at the leg perplexed since it was fine before he slept. A groan slipped out of his mouth as he tried to get up only to stumble back down to a sitting position. What the fuck? He felt something on his left leg and he looked at a swollen purplish-black and shiny knot. He pressed it down and swore he saw lights. What's going on? His face hurt something awful like someone punched him or something, a spark of memory rushed to agree with him, he turned around to maybe still catch the assaulter and yell a couple of obscenities at him. And there the man was dead five feet away from him, the boy blinked in shock and he snuffled a scream of horror. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, he somehow scrambled to his feet despite the tremendous pain of his leg and he limped quickly away from the crime scene the boy's curry meal forgotten.
In A Place Outside of Time
The moment the knot was snipped away from the quilt, the alternate universe ceased to collide with its prime universe. The worlds were no longer headed towards war over a pivotal point in time rather the possible events of the past, future and present of the alternate universe were erased from the prime's timeline excluding the victories of the splinter's group plan. The plan the Ancient would allow to play out as a consequence.
Three Months and Two Weeks Ago
He wasn't just an ordinary receptionist, and he worked with many organizations outside of Doctors without Borders. Two weeks ago, he dropped off his family in London and he knew he's daughter was very excited for the event since she hasn't been to the city since she was a babe. He was now in Hamburg, Germany for a business trip that he just concluded and now he was headed towards Boston, Massachusetts in about a week for another case working with a pharmaceutical company next. He was to take Flight 627.
Motel
The red neon lights of the motel flickered on and off, and the shabby motel consisted of two floors. Plants and decoration could not beautify the motel, even though they were widespread around the complex. Two occupants found themselves on the second floor in a room labeled forty-one, the bathroom was nothing to be proud of, the floor was dirty with stains and the red door barely hung unto the hinges. Yet, they were happy the bed was clean to a decent standards and the motel was hidden for their needs.
Olivia lay in the bed with John completely satisfied, yet she couldn't help but wonder why all the secrecy? They met up in their usual dingy motel room for their usual late night rendezvous. The white bed sheets wrapped around their tangled bodies of limbs; a big grin that showed the whites of teeth on her face, her eyes closed in ecstasy and opened in wonder. "Oh my God…"
John questioned, "What?"
"This bed is loud."She mentioned as the bed creaked loudly in agreement. Her head now turned to John. She rested her face in her right palm with her elbow against the mattress, "We can't keep doing this… sneaking around."
"Well the department is not a fan of office romance." John said in a no nonsense way.
They both gaze into each other's eyes for a minute before Olivia stated, "Well… I think Charlie knows."
"No he doesn't." John kissed her forehead and then her bareback when she turned away from him towards the bed lamp to dim the lights of the lamp a bit more on her side.
"Yeah… I think he does." Olivia stated trying to get John to see the possibility.
"If he knew, you'd be transferred." John said. Charlie is very possessive of Olivia. I always thought him as Olivia's step-brother or something like that. He would have her transferred but Charlie would put him six feet under.
Olivia scoffed at the notion and shook her head. It's not like Charlie would kill John, okay… maybe attempt to?
"All that matters is that I love you, regardless of what position we might find ourselves in."
Olivia's smile brightened the room at John's words. John kissed Olivia fully on her lips enthralled by her beauty and she in turn tightly grasped onto his head. Nearly, tugging out some of his black hair strands with her hands and crushing his lips to her while moaning in pleasure.
RING! RING! Olivia's phone vibrated on the off-white dresser. His eyes now fully opened due to the interruption from his near sleep-daze. Olivia quickly answered the phone and she listened to the voice on the other side of the phone telling her a case needed her expertise. She kissed John, and dressed for the occasion before heading out the door.
Minutes later John's phone rung on a dresser next to him and he picked it up to reply, "Agent Scott."
Three Months and One Week Ago
John fidgeted with his phone re-reading the messages of safety and love that Olivia sent to him for the trip he was taking. About a week ago, his department instructed that he ride a plane to Hamburg, Germany for a potential lead on the whereabouts of Conrad Moreau. The city was beautiful but the trail ran cold fast, until some of the locals mentioned that the name of the man sounded familiar and that Conrad confounded to a couple of his associates that he might be doing business in Boston, Massachusetts. So here he was in a foreign country following hopefully not another goose chase about to board Flight 627 and travel to Boston for twelve hours and forty-five minutes. However, his flight delayed due to heavy weather and hours later he finally departed the airport around the evening time say eight o'clock.
RUMBLE! RUMBLE! The plane shook violently with turbulence as thunder sounded and lightening nearly struck the plane full of one hundred and forty-seven people. People screamed their sounds of disapproval as the lights flickered on and off, before deciding to stay on. His forehead was wet with sweat dribbling down his creamy neck in streams and his black hair lay matted down like a rat's nest. COUGH! COUGH! The receptionist's dark brown eyes darted side to side in fear as blood coated his hands when he covered them to his mouth before quickly wiping the blood on his black slacks. He took an uneasy breath from the harsh coughing, finally clearing his throat. He leaned over in a tri-pod position resting his head against the chair of the person in front of him before slightly calming himself down enough to lean back into his chair. He absolutely hated flying; if he could he would prefer to drive. But that wish is unrealistic when I'm going from Hamburg to Boston. He gasped… Why can't I get a breath? He tugged at the tie around his neck still trying to suck in needed air into his lungs, while the guy with dirty blonde hair next to him looked at the receptionist oddly. A thought struck him, could it be? He grasped at his black suitcase and fumbled with the contents in it. He pulled out his insulin bag and zipped open the bag to get his insulin pen to jab himself with it in his abdominal area. He grunted in pain at the task still shaking from fright and low blood sugar due to the recent cold.
A Special Agent for the FBI with dirty blonde hair and light grey eyes intensely glanced at the receptionist before questioning the receptionist since the agent was sitting next to him. "Hey, are you okay?" The special agent paused a moment noting the appearance of the man next to him, "What's your name?" The special agent asked in order to distract the receptionist from his panic attack of sorts.
The receptionist anxiously rubbed his clammy hands up and down his slacks trying to still breathe. "N… N… Nick." Gasp! "My name is Nick, what's yours?" I feel like I have asthma again, which isn't possible since I haven't had one due to being cleared of it in my late teens.
"Well, Nick my name is John." John pointed outside the plane. "My friend it's just an electrical storm."
"I understand." Nick puffed his mouth with air swallowing it down.
"Here, gum?" John asked trying to hand him a pack of excitement gum.
"No, thank you." Nick politely declined and John pocketed his gum away. Nick's face was drenched with sweat, the sweat soaked his brown dress shirt through and the dress shirt clung to him. Again Nick couldn't find his breath, his hands moved to his neck and his throat began to close off due to heavy mucus clogging his airway. Nick's hands pound against the arm rest and John noticed to only stare in fright as Nick's innards splattered on him and against the plane's interior walls. The thick gooey secretions of blood with mucus covered John and the middle section of sixty-four people from head to toe. John glanced at the remains that used to be Nick shocked at a person who spontaneously combusted or imploded on a plane. What the fuck? He doesn't have time to wrap his mind around the bizarre event as a burning sensation from the bodily fluids clinging to his body made itself known. He rubbed his eyes, nose and mouth vigorously with his fingers trying to remove the secretions but failing miserably. The red greenish goo began to eat away at the skin of his hands, quickly eroding the epidermis to the subcutaneous tissue and finally to his bone marrow. AHHHH! John's screams joined the rest.
Minutes to an hour later, multiple people screams erupt from the middle section as their skin began to peel off in layers disturbing the quiet on the now six hour journey. While others in the middle section now laid dead along with John. The virus dug deeper into their bodies quickly shutting down organs. Their voices echo their pain awaking up more plane members up, and the awoken non-infected members looked at the middle section completely stunned at the event unsure of what to do or how to help. A brave flight attendant named Morgan walked into the mist of the middle section, and Morgan found herself in front of a victim, and she shook the body of a Latino woman up trying to snap her out of her screaming. "Ma'am, are you okay?"
The Latino woman's screaming abruptly stopped, and the last breath of life escaped her lips. Her head and many others bowed in death. Despite there being no response Moran shook the woman one more time before heading to the next person who had also stopped breathing. She stood up to her full height and noticed that all sixty-four people now lay dead succumbed to their mysterious burns or shedding of skin revealing their bodies to infections.
Muttering and fear broke the dead silence as some of the eighty-three began to head over to the deadly scene to investigate what happened or to at least confirm this wasn't a dream but a reality. While others mostly women and children hung back to assess from afar. Minutes later the Latino woman's eyes open wide glazed over staring at Morgan's jugular vein in hunger, and Morgan in turn jumped away in fright stunned at the change in events. So they're not dead? "Hey! Ma'am, are you okay?" Morgan questioned inches away from her face, and the Latino woman moaned out an insensible response before clamping onto Morgan's neck with her jaws of teeth. Blood streamed in rivers from the deep teeth gashes as Morgan began to yell and thrash in panic. She clawed at the woman's hair to draw the woman away from her neck only to have the hair rip from the woman's scalp in clumps. Another brave soul rushed into action from the shocked crowd and attempted to dismantle the Latino's jaws from Morgan's throat. The glazed eye of the dead woman turned to the man dropping Morgan to the floor, strips of flesh hung in between the jaws of the undead woman and fresh blood hitting the blue carpet staining it purple. The dead woman eyed her new prey and snapped her jaws at him, and he in turn barely missing those deadly teeth as he scampered backwards towards the massive crowd behind him drawing the attention of the undead to the living.
Minutes dragged on and Morgan could hear her heart beating against her ribs trying to compensate for the mass bleeding. Morgan's hands sluggishly attempted to put pressure on her wound to no prevail, blood kept gushing out staining both her hands red. She began to hyperventilate unable to catch a decent breath of air, her trashing on the ground attracted more of the awaken members of the middle section up, and Morgan stared at the looks of hunger in their eyes. She understood that the things awaking up were no longer humans, but something else… A shaky breath escaped Morgan's lips and she yelled, "Everyone, forget about me and r-" Her words were interrupted as another awoken member of the undead bit into her forearm hungrily, Morgan involuntary shuddered at the pain and her eyes dimmed. A minute passed and Morgan could feel no more pain, since she was gone from the world.
The non-infected crowd backed away in fear as more undead began to rise with a thirst for human flesh. Screams of terror bounced off the plane's walls as the crowd back towards the bathroom in the middle of the plane and the cock-pit. Many non-infected began to hide between the seats or underneath and help them it did not; they realized those who made that mistake that they were trapped as the undead bit or ripped their limbs clean off their bodies. The growing mass of undead grew and the growing numbers of eaten victims climbed.
One desperate father opened a grey metal access hatch beneath the economy area; he shoved his wife and two children onto the stairs into the under-cabin for the flight attendant's crew shocked to see two other flight attendants quivering inside in fright. He grabbed a freshly killed undead with him and quickly closed the hatch behind him ensuring it was locked.
A female flight attendant with auburn hair said, "Sir… you aren't suppose to be here. This area is restricted for crew only." The other female attendant nodded in agreement.
The father growled back at them in a whisper, "Where the fuck where you as the passengers were eaten or killed? Hiding! That's what when we get out of here somehow I will make sure everyone knows you abandoned ship."
The two flight attendants shook their heads no scared for possible jail time.
"Then shut the fuck up and do what I say. We might make it, if you follow everything I say. We're going wait this out and hopefully those things up there will be too distracted eating or something else." The father, Aaron thought as the noise settled around him. He looked at the cabin pleased it was a six berth area meaning most of them will sleep decent, "Is there any food? Or a bathroom here?"
The auburn haired flight attendant, Tiffany said "Yeah… why?"
Aaron looked at her with distaste, "Because we're going need that." He always thought ahead… he had to. The way his past followed him from the hood prepared him for the things that he now had today; a beautiful wife not a baby momma, two children; an older teen boy age fifteen named Matthew and a girl named Alicia age five. His ebony skinned wife was a beautiful twenty-eight year old African American woman with cascading black hair to her shoulders called, Brianna. He was a dark chocolate African American man age thirty-one. Aaron didn't like one bit that they were surrounded by those creatures if worse came to worse he knew what he would have to do and the choice wouldn't be pretty glaring at the two attendants but for now they would rest. He looked at Brianna, and Brianna silently mouthed to her children to keep quiet as noises of both the living and undead sounded around them.
Meanwhile Above the Under-Cabin
Another flight attendant a male quickly telephoned the pilot so he was caught up on what was going on. The pilot in great haste pushed down on the red button of the auto pilot as a horde of undead went barreling through the cock-pit's door quickly ripping the pilot to shreds.
All the while John's dead body lay still covered in a cocoon of red stinking goo from head to toe with Nick's bodily fluids completely undisturbed by the chaos around.
Three Months and Four Days Ago
A twenty-four year old Olivia stretched fully on her light brown bed sheets completely submerged under the dark red comforters. She yawned loudly, smacking her lips and rubbing eye crust from her eyes with her right index finger and thumb. Olivia patted the right side of her bed surprised to find it cold, a frown marred on her face as she recollected John was still on his trip. She had wanted to go with him, but John insisted she stay behind which she argued with him until he swayed her with a good reason of staying… her job. The thirty year old could have easily been a lawyer instead of the agent she knows and loves. She smiled contently before her stomach grumbled making it known to her that food was needed, and stretching once more she rushed to a sitting position of the edge of her bed letting a yawn escape. Man… I'm tired. Nothing but a good cup of coffee won't fix, her head throbbing slightly in agreement of God's gift to the world.
It was one of her rare days off from work and she intended to spend it with her sister, Rachael and Ella, her niece. Olivia had suggested a nice outing to Giacomo's Ristorante, cheap but still very elegant Italian restaurant down the corner and because she knew her sister like the back of her hand. Rachael rejected the proposal and offered an even cheaper solution of just heading over to her home for an old-fashioned lunch at her apartment. Now, Olivia could cook if that meant not burning down the house in the process then yes cook she could. But often Olivia left the cooking to the professionals like her sister, but one thing Olivia could make was a mean Spaghetti and meatballs, even it rivaled Rachel's own.
She rolled her eyes as she pondered on her cooking skills, she shrugged the remnants of the thoughts off and shuffled towards the bathroom slowly, flicking the lights on and groaned in annoyance as the lights assaulted her eyes. Spots of red, blue and green disappeared as soon as they came, and she faced her bathroom mirror horrified at the image reflecting back at her. Her golden shoulder length stood up like ruffled feathers of a bird, dried drool stuck to her face and eye crust still clung to the corners of her eyes. She looked like the stuff of nightmares… Wow? I hope I never look like this around John. She huffed out a breath to cringle her nose in disgust, her breath was atrocious. She opened the medicine cabinet picked up the Crest toothpaste, placed a pea-sized toothpaste on her purplish green toothbrush and lays it to the side as she opened the faucet to flush her mouth with water. Minutes later her teeth sparkled with green mint breath.
RING! Her head snapped to the front of the door startled her out of admiring herself; she quickly grabbed her black hair bow from her wrist and tied her hair to the back. Glancing back at the mirror to see if she missed any grimy spot she headed towards the door looking presentable, and opened it to reveal a police officer. He was dressed overly formal and her stomach dropped to her feet as dread filled her soul.
The officer looked at the young lady with regret, he loved his job but this was one of the many things he hated about it having to be the bearer of bad news. "Olivia Dunham?"
Olivia swallowed her spit down harshly hesitate to answer back but she does, "Y- Yes?"
"It is my deepest regret to inform that John Scott and one hundred forty-six other passengers died on Flight 627. The plane was totaled since it landed head first into the North Atlantic Ocean, so at the moment we cannot obtain any of the bodies until we locate where the plane crashed." The officer paused, "I'm sorry for your lost." The officer glanced down at her, shocked she hadn't made any sounds of grief except to acknowledge his words and said okay to him.
She took the words in like she was a machine, but it was only after the officer left and she closed the door that emotions she never knew she had swept her off her feet. She dropped to the floor to her knees unable to hold her body upright, tears streamed down her face and she grabbed her hair in agony as a soulful silent scream erupted from her throat. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet unable to process the words of the officer. Dead… dead… John's dead? No, I refuse to believe that. He's not dead… the officer just doesn't know what he's talking about. Fat clear blobs of mucus ran down from her nose and she doesn't bother to wipe it away, instead she was hutched over swimming in her tears and boogers. That was how Rachael found Olivia, since Olivia refused to pick up her calls, respond back to her text messages and Rachael was so desperate she even paged Olivia. So, when she received nothing she headed over to Olivia's place like the world was ending in a record time of twenty-five minutes from her usual forty-five minute drive, and she opened the door with her spare key to find Olivia brawling hysterically on the floor.
"Olivia what's wrong?" Rachael questioned as she closed the door behind her and puts her keys on the living room table where Olivia was in.
Olivia mumbled, Johnisdead. Her face covered by the palms of her hands as she attempted to catch every tear and mucous freely flowing down her face. She choked back a sob threatening to cut off her airway.
"What?" Rachael knelt before Olivia holding onto her wrist not at all worried about the secretions now running down her own arms.
Olivia cleared her throat, opened her mouth to speak and found that not a word seeped out. She tried again to fail once more.
"Where's John?" Rachael asked to only have Olivia cry harder, I guess that was the wrong question to ask?
As Olivia cried harder, she snatched her hands from her sister's own and yelled through clenched teeth. "He's dead! He's dead! HE'S DEAD!" Her sister backed away from her in fright and at the look of fear in Rachael's eyes, Olivia quietly said, "He's dead…" Olivia fiddled with her red nightgown's neckline unable to keep her hands still.
Rachael looked at Olivia stunned at the recent news, Rachael's mouth opened and she quickly closed it not knowing what to say to ease Olivia's pain. Few minutes passed by, Olivia took the liberty to curl into a ball as her younger sister of twenty-two patted her back gently telling Olivia she would there for her whenever she needs it.
Two Months Ago In Federal Building for the Fringe Division
It was more than a month ago that John died, yet Olivia still felt like it happened yesterday. John's death left her numb to the world. She had to throw herself into her work otherwise his charming smile, the whiteness of his teeth and his long dirty golden eyelashes would creep into her subconscious making her feel envious on why she could no longer potential bear children for him. Her heart constricted for a moment, she placed her right hand to her chest as the pain of heartbreak finally subsided.
"You good... Olivia?" Charlie questioned as he gave Olivia a once over in the break room, "You kind of blanked out for a minute there." Olivia nodded a yes and Charlie paused, "You sure?"
"I'm good, Charlie. No need to worry about me." Her fingers of her left hand clenched the white handle of her coffee mug tightly. Her whole body was tense from the lie, eyebrows scrunched in annoyance as she glared at the bottom of the mug filled with black coffee angered at the world. Ironically no one in the building outside of Charlie really understood her relationship with John. Some of the people here when they went to wake weeks ago never knew John like she did, and still others came for the sake of saying they did. The wake was a sad umber event, but everyone paid their respects and left. The stupid thing was the coffin didn't even have his body in it because they still haven't found any of their bodies yet… Like they disappeared into thin air, she was angered that she never really got to say goodbye.
Olivia's Apartment
She walked into her apartment relieved to get away from people's pitying gazes; she puts her keys on the living table and headed towards her bedroom. She looked at herself in the mirror not at all shocked that her image showed a thinning woman with black bags underneath her eyes and thinning hair due to stress. Her posture was slouched over and her lips sunken down in a frown like it was most days now. She sighed heavily, opening up her dark brown oak near black top drawer of the dresser rustling her day clothes round and looked confused as her fingers felt a small box. She removed the object from the drawer, eyebrows scrunched down and she opened the velvety black box unable to think.
Olivia's mouth went dry as she fingered the engagement ring and engraved in the golden band was "Always." Her eyebrows crinkled in grief and her right hand covered the sob that threatened to overwhelm her letting a tear slip down her creamy cheek. He brought a ring? That meant he wanted t-t-Oh John… Her world came crashing down on her again. It was too hard knowing that he loved her and that they could no longer be together, but to know that John wanted to marry her was too much. Olivia sat down on the edge of bed shocked to the bone at the new evidence of John's love. A denial is not a rejection. All those times… John, why didn't you propose? I would have gladly said yes, you knew that. Olivia sniffled loudly; she harshly wiped away the tear and looked at the white ceiling in anger. Olivia grunted, Ugh! I need a stiff drink or more.
She walked to her kitchen, swung the kitchen cabinet opened grabbed the Adnams Longshore vodka and a shot glass for just that. She swallowed the first shot down easily as the velvety and crisp drink warmed her body up.
Walter's Home
Peter stared at his wristwatch in deep concern Olivia was supposed to have met him thirty minutes ago and she was not the kind of woman let alone person to be late. He tapped his dress shoes against the wooden floor of the house he and Walter lived in agitated a bit at the obvious delay. Olivia had finally promised Walter that she'd come for dinner and try the new concoction Walter would be cooking for the both of them. Walter hinted it would a good double date completely forgetting neither he nor Olivia was dating and that Walter, himself had no relations with anyone else of the same or opposite sex.
Walter bustled about the kitchen a little peeved that he couldn't make his favorite tuna eye ball soup that reminded him of a savory taste of chicken, but his son said Olivia wouldn't appreciate such a dish. But what his son and Olivia didn't know was that he would sneak in a couple of exotic dishes into the traditional American dishes, for instance the fried mosquito eggs were included in the quinoa and Asian-Americanized fried rice combination. He wanted to make sure both of them got a complete protein meal. "Where's, Agent Dunham?"
"Good question, Walter. I have no idea." Peter shouted on the top of his lungs from his room. Sometimes Walter could be hard of hearing.
"Weird, she's never late." Walter muttered perplexed at her absence. "Perhaps, you should call her?"
"I did that already." Peter said as he rounded the corner of the kitchen nearly giving Walter a good fright and a near heart attack.
"Oh... Peter where did you come from?" Walter asked surprised as he turned back to the pot roast to make finally touches and of course he still added the tuna eyeballs to it.
Peter rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, "From my room, Walter. Where else would I come from? The sky?"
Five minutes passed and the meals cooked by Walter were completed. He began to fix the table up with the right utensils and the food. He made sure not to forget the candles that would light up the darkened room. He looked about him and he noticed something was missing, "Where's Dunham?"
"We mentioned this awhile ago, Walter… she isn't here yet, I called, texted and emailed her. No response. I guess it's just you and me."
"No… No, NO! This won't do!" Walter began to throw a temper tantrum and Peter knowing from experience Walter wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted.
Peter sighed as another distressed wail came from Walter. Ironically in thirty minutes or less Walter will probably fall asleep completely exhausted from the energized state demanding a nap later. Peter just didn't want to deal with the non-stop wails and moaning. "Walter, no need to tear up the place and cry. Your perfect dinner won't be wasted, I'll get her." Peter hopped into his car and drove to Olivia's apartment.
Olivia's Apartment
RING! The doorbell rung loudly and Olivia jumped in fright, her heart pounding a mile a minute so she took a deep breath in willing her heart to calm down. She sets her third drink of vodka down to open the door surprised to see Peter. "What are you doing here?"
"I should be the one asking, what are you still doing here?" Peter questioned glaring hard at Olivia.
"What do you mean?" Olivia shut her eyes and groaned as she remembered the promise she made to Walter, "Do you think he forgot?"
"Lol… Walter has horrible memory but the most random things like this dinner he seemed to remember. Anyways I'm here to escort you to my residence." Peter playfully bowed at his waistline.
Olivia blew a breath out, rolled her eyes and a groan slipped through her clenched teeth irritated that she could no longer drown herself in her vodka, "I think I'm going to pass."
"No you can't. You don't know how he gets." Peter said frantically.
"Peter... I have things to do."
"Like drink yourself to death?" Peter eyed the vodka on her kitchen counter.
"How'd you know?"
"First your breath smells like alcohol and second I'm not blind, I can see that half drunk bottle of vodka behind you Olivia!" Peter ran his fingers through his hair and softly said, "This is why you come and share your sorrows with us about John. So you don't drink yourself away." Peter lets himself into her apartment.
"I don't want you here, nor do I need to stop what I'm doing at the moment." Olivia stated angrily crossing her arms around her indicating she wasn't going anywhere.
Peter sighed.
"How about this… instead of me drinking a bottle or two of vodka by myself, we can share it? That way I avoid drinking myself to death." Olivia bargained.
Peter's eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, "Okay…" Peter clearly was not comfortable with the idea. "But, afterwards you're coming with me and you can't make up any excuses this time."
Shocked at his counter, Olivia said "Fine" in agitation.
An hour later, Olivia had a goofy smile on her face as Peter attempted to toss a rolled up paper ball into a wastebasket in front of him which he kept missing.
"Wait… Wait… I almost got it." Peter said, as his third chance was ripped away from him when the ball ran along the rim and dropped to the floor. He groaned and took a sip of rum from his shot glass, the liquid burning the insides of his body in a good way. They had long since finished the bottle of vodka and were nearly done with the bottle of Sunset rum nestled safely in Olivia's hands.
Peter swirled to Olivia nearly crumbling to his feet as the world spun around him, he laughed hard at his clumsiness and Olivia joined him. "Your turn." He said leaning against the peach couch that Olivia rested in.
She gave him the bottle of rum to keep, as she swung her legs in front of her nearly falling like Peter did awhile ago. "Watch the master." She clasped onto the ball and the paper ball flew to land safely in the basket in front of her, Olivia proudly faced Peter and proclaimed. "Now, you have to give me a kiss."
If either one of them were sober they wouldn't be in the predicament they found themselves in but here they were drunk and not in their right minds. Peter struggled to his feet set the rum down on the living room table, grabbed her face to him and kissed her with all his might. Olivia swore she saw lights maybe the lights were coming from her kitchen but her body buzzed with untapped energy and she kissed him back as harsh.
Meanwhile, back in Walter's home
Walter succumbed to his tantrum and now rested comfortably on the living room recliner with the TV noise to keep him company as he slept peacefully completely forgetting about the dinner that was supposed to happen this evening.
Explicit scene coming ahead don't read, if you're uncomfortable (Also this is my first sex scene ever, so yea... hope I do okay.)
Back in Olivia's Apartment
Clothes flew left and right, Olivia dragged Peter from the living room into her bedroom, shut the door and locked it behind her all without never having her lips leave his once. Did she love him; no… was she trying to forget, yes. And forget she would at least for tonight. That was the only rationale thought in Olivia's mind as she pushed against Peter's bare chest watching him fall on her bed.
Peter laid flat in the bed and he in turn began to think that all of this was happening too fast. His eyes began to flicker side to side in panic but as he slowly got up into a sitting position to leave, Olivia's black laced bra, her matching set of boy shorts came off and all rationale thought flew out the window. His groin clenched tightly at the prospect of Olivia getting on top of him and he swallowed heavily.
He finally sat on the edge of her bed letting his eyes rake her body up and down enjoying the view of arousal in her light brown eyes, her red stained lips that she chewed on as she played with herself moaning his name, and Olivia gently moved her fingers up and down her clitoris screaming as her fingers were now slick with her own juices coming down from her first orgasm. She brought her fingers to her lips and tasted it shocked that it tasted so nice… very tangy. Not to leave the guest in her room out, she dropped to her knees and crawled to Peter on all fours. Her head between his legs, she curiously licked the tip of his shaft with her tongue and Peter's cock pulsed getting harder by the minute. His eyes rolled back, his Adam apple bounced up and down as Olivia stroked his nine inch thick cock with both her hands since one could not fully wrap around it properly. She admired its weight, thickness and how firm it was as it throbbed in her hands veins now well defined.
She traced the veins with her fingers and with more confidence she dragged her wet tongue down his shaft sucking on it now and then slowly pleased that she had him jerking his hips at her calling her name. Peter had enough of her slowness; he grabbed her forcefully by her head and pulled her lips flushed to his balls.
"Mmmmm, mmmmm" Olivia moaned on Peter's cock and gagged as his cock hit the back of her throat unable to take in the full length of it. She pressed her head back against his hands trying to take a breath and Peter wouldn't allow for the warmth of her mouth to dissipate. Minutes passed and Peter finally released Olivia to cream all over her face grunting his pleasure; she took a deep breath, licked his cum on her lips and cheeks off. Hmm… salty and warm? She grabbed his limp cock and began to slowly bring it back to life with her hands and lips.
Peter's breath hitched; stunned she could get his cock to react so soon again and Olivia made sure to focus on his balls this time as well. She licked his balls upwards to the tip to gently kiss it and his cock pulsed in tune with Olivia's wet dripping pussy. Peter grabbed her face in between his hands stopping her motions and pulling her to her feet, instead of all fours. He easily towered over her as he bit her lips gently, quickly shoved his tongue down her throat to taste his juices on her tongue and they battled for dominance which he easily won. He changed their position, instead of the back of his knees against her bed, he swirled them around to have her against the bed and he gently pushed her on her mattress to quickly climb on top of her. He bit her lips once more before attacking her neck with his teeth slowly dragging his tongue down her throat to her hardened nipples where he sucked generously.
Olivia groaned in excitement, tugging at his dark brown hair screaming for him to stop teasing her. "Peter!" Peter doesn't give her reprieve as he dragged his wet tongue drenching the sides of her stomach in salvia; he headed towards her waistline and stopped. "Don't stop, Peter… don't stop." Her body felt on pins and needles as his tongue did amazing things; she crunched her toes in delight as Peter finally sucked hard on her clitoris licking it up and down. "Peter! Please?" Olivia begged as her heart pounded in her chest, Peter responded to her begging and roughly thrusted his wet cock into her pussy eliciting a deep moan of gratitude from Olivia. He stilled for a moment to let Olivia adjust to his girth before Olivia's hips rocked against him telling him to go ahead, he sets the pace and she matched his with fervor. Her breasts bounced as Peter sets the pace to hard, fast and deep.
"A…Ah-Ahhh!" Olivia yelled squeezing her eyes shut as the second orgasm swept her off her feet; her legs quaked around Peter's hip as he too screamed his pleasure before ejaculating into her warm awaiting womb with cum running down his cock and her legs. His breath calmed down and he rolled off her to only have Olivia climb onto of him, he was spent but clearly she wasn't. Olivia rocked her hips and amazingly Peter's limp cock moved to life once again. What kind of magic is this? His fingers gripped her hips digging to the flesh sure he left marks, up and down Olivia went slowly slamming her pussy down against his shaft moaning his name.
Not pleased with the rhythm, Peter quickly got up into a sitting position with Olivia sitting in his lap and grabbed her buttocks harshly using the momentum to slam her hips against his. Olivia getting the hint moved faster for Peter until finally he and she were sated for the third time this evening. Olivia's breath quivered, she rolled off him in a semi-coma state and minutes later joined Peter in sleep.
(I did it… phew! Sex scenes are hard. Anyways end explicit material).
Hours Later
Peter and Olivia were now in their own respective beds sleeping the dream away.
CDC Headquarters In DeKalb, Georgia (October 21, 2008)
Medical reports of sick and dying patients all over the world were jamming up the phone lines. Their receptionists and interns could barely keep up with the demand. Every day now more reports rushed in from governments, doctors and patients worldwide waiting for answers the CDC themselves did not know. They knew the basics it was contact based but that was it. Outside of the fact it was a mutated form of the swine flu this was one of the only reason it was called H1N1-2.
The virus had already been spreading for the past two months worldwide now making it a total of three months, except for in India. Mostly in third world countries reports were more severe and yes a few cases happened every now and then in the states but they were quickly terminated has a precaution. However, the CDC did inform CNN and various news stations about a new flu virus that needed to be reported to the government or hospitals if anyone came down with it.
The public just wasn't aware of the time-frame then neither were the CDC until patient zero's frozen body was shipped from the slums of India to Georgia to be conducted on a few weeks prior to determine the exact timeline of his death. The virus had a mind of its own, every time they thought they had an anti-virus concoction it would mutate again even deadlier than the last time. They tested the virus on rats and monkeys; they noticed one major side effect besides the array of flu-like symptoms… aggression. All the test subjects often attacked and killed the controls, even if they decreased the virus load the same result happened constantly up until test 391. By test 392, CDC began to inform the media slowly about the new flu-like virus. They never once mentioned the virus was mutated exponentially just for the patients to be quarantined in specialized hospitals that were prepared for the worst at least to an extent. The CDC had an obligation to yes notify the public but also to not cause mass hysteria.
The young male teen of seventeen laid on a metal table in cytostasis. Scientists, biologists, healthcare examiners and the like roamed about trying to solve an impossible mystery. He was very much still human just paler though his skin was starting to slough off whenever anyone touched him for an examination. From what they could assess, his body showed signs of malnutrition even before the virus infected him. His teeth showed signs of decay; teeth were yellow and some brown in most places, gums swollen or bleeding when stimulated and he only had half his adult teeth left. His bones were very brittle, although the state of his bones appeared to be a recent prognosis and lastly his BMI didn't correlate with his age, height, gender and weight.
They also knew that patient zero's body reacted slower to the virus, and this might be why they were not yet aware of the possible dangers that the dead body posed even though various locations around the world were trying to warn them about. But, seriously… the walking dead? The head scientist shook his head in disbelief at how some people had wild imagination. Might as well say vampires and werewolves exist. If they do, then Team Jacob all the way! What a guy can't like Twilight? He shook his head to clear his mind and began to jot down notes. The lights flickered for bit due to certain shortage across the nation, he's shrouded in darkness for a few minutes, and his eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the sudden light change. He stood still never once looking up from his notes knowing full well the generators would start up in a bit, a minute more passed and the generators hum to life. During the absence of light and cold, patient zero's body warms up to room temperature and his middle finger jerked.
BUZZ! The head scientist's pager sprung to life and he looked at it. He sighed loudly due to being interrupted from his work, he picked up the facility phone and a voice yelled at him to head to the situation room, which he does.
The situation room consisted of fifty small beige conference tables decorated into a rectangle with a large open area in the middle of the table with black office chairs surrounding the tables. A flat screen TV was mounted on the right side of the tan wall and the projector screen to the front of the room featured a map of India on it and a young director of thirty six stood comfortably against a spare table.
"We have a situation; we were able to obtain some data from India four months ago to now." The director questions as she looked at the map of India, "What's the difference?" Everyone in the situation room shook their heads to indicate they had not a clue. "The population in Delhi was 9.879 million four months ago; two months into the four it dropped by a million, and two more months later half of the population is gone. We don't have visual but we do have the skyrocketing numbers of sick being hosted in various clinics and hospitals around the region. This city isn't the only one to suffer population reduction; this is throughout the entire country. The bottom line is all of the reports have to do with the new virus." She slammed her clipboard of notes on the table behind and the sound echoed throughout the room and no one uttered a word. "If that isn't evidence then I don't know what is." She sighed loudly, and sat down on the table with her legs and arms crossed. "Let CNN report this, tell them just what they need to know."
"Tonight CNN has learned that a new flu virus is now being monitored by the CDC; they have advised those with flu-like symptoms or an increase in agitation to report to clinics or hospitals. Where they can then determine if they have the flu or not and then get treated."
Meanwhile In the Once Frozen Room
"Avi, Avi!" His name resounded in his mind; he remembered his birth all too well. The event that killed his mother and gave him life, the event that drove his father insane to the point he cast out his only child to the pits of the black market where the young boy escaped to live a life of despair on the streets of Delhi.
His body felt different like he was there and he wasn't at the same time. He felt no fear just utter confusion. Where was he? His eyes opened rapidly to stare at the white bleached walls of a lab; he was cold but hot at the same time. He sat up on the metal table shocked to see through his blurred vision his organs open for the world to take a peek, flaps of skin sloughed off when he touched his arm and his fingernails were blackened due to decay. That's when fear truly set in and all emotion ceased to exist but panic. The brief moments of memory vanished and instinct from another being inside him took over.
A moan escaped from his lips and he clambered off the table effectively knocking over vials of the mutated virus on the ground even splashing it on the walls. A loud voice over the intercoms beckoned him forward; he walked out the door left open by the scientist and headed towards the situation room.
The Situation Room
The audience began to disperse out of the room once the director was finished with her debriefing to only collide with a figure. The head scientist looked in shock at their test subject walking about as if he was still alive when he wasn't. The figure doesn't give anyone time to think about the impossibilities of the situation instead the figure bites down on the shoulder of a male tech. Blood spilled out of the wound and the tech slumped down against the tan walls overcome by the massive amount of blood loss to succumb to an early grave. The figure of the teen eagerly munched down on the meal of the tech slurping down the tech's entrails.
A woman screamed from across the room in terror drawing the attention of the figure that picked up his head from his bloodied meal and proceeded after the sound she made. By now everyone was knocked out of their stupor and they began tossing chairs, books or any type of throw-able object at the figure to no avail. The objects collided with his body, but the items did no damage nor did it slow him down. He shuffled and moaned towards the woman who stumbled over her own feet at the sight of the bloodied drenched figure scraping her arms and knees in the process as she fell to the floor in fright. The boy took the opportunity to drag his infected fingernails across her delicate skin of her thigh severing her femoral artery increasing her screams as she tried to pull away. She shoved her legs at him and he barely moved back from the effort. His jaws open for a bite of a fresh target, and his efforts wasted as one of the many security officers finally came to their senses and nearly shoots his face off. The boy turned from the dying woman towards the brave officer distracted by the newer target in blue. More rounds were fired and all seemed ineffective as the figure kept coming; Bullets echoed through the room as the bullets ebbed into his arms, legs and chest but refused to put him down.
Across the room the tech's eyes open rapidly and jaws move unhinged. He crawled quickly on all fours towards an unsuspecting female biologist still focused on the boy's body in front of her and the crowd. The tech bites down on the meaty portion of her calf drawing her agonizing screams from her lips and attention of the crowd to another one of the creatures. Two things happened as the crowd of facility members were now aware of another one of the creatures: one most backed up into the waiting arms of the teen to be bitten or scratched and two others just stood in shock at the events. Again bullets flew and none deterred either of them from their cornered prey.
The head scientist was a big fan of all things supernatural and the two things in front of him were exactly stuff of nightmares he read in the fiction section of Barnes and Nobles. "Shoot the head, shoot them in the head." He didn't realize he uttered words until, the dwindling survivors of twenty four from fifty looked at him in surprise gathered in the empty middle space of the conference tables. He never once held a gun but today was a good day to attempt, since there was a strong need for it. It can't be that hard, right? He realized then that not everyone could be Dead-shot or Black Widow; first he struggled with trying to figure how to turn the gun on and then he realized he didn't know how to properly hold the thing. Screw this. He dropped the gun and grabbed a meter stick lying on one of the conference tables. He gripped it tightly in his hands and proceeded forward towards the teen to only run back the way he came when the teen's attention drew to him. Damn it! Where was Superman when the world needed him the most? His heat ray would be great just about now. He often joked when shit hit the fans and it definitely was hitting the fans hard.
Facility members began running around like their heads were cut off; some huddled in a corner too shock to move and others still chose to stay in the middle. The director had about enough of the nonsense the only person that made any lick of sense was the scientist clutching to a meter stick of all things. She looked to her right hand man, the best shot other than her in the whole building and she motioned with her eyes for him to drop the beings alongside her. She and her bodyguard were the farthest away from the action, closer to the line of computers or the front of the room than anyone else. A good twenty feet separated them from the others, but that meant nothing now. They were not aware of the critical point then… a headshot, which was why some many people became easy victims. The director breaths in deeply through her nose and out her mouth with fierce determination shining through her eyes. BAM! The shot travels from the front to the back of the room whistling towards the head of the tech that caves in due to the bullet and his body dropped to the floor... finally dead.
Various wounded members of the facility lay groaning on the floor from scratches and bites of their ex-teammates or they succumbed to their deadly wounds already to join the growing undead. The mass of undead blocked the only way out, and the teen was the leader of said mass. Time paused as their comrade dropped dead at their feet, the other creatures weren't aware of the danger they were in and without recognition of the danger, they pressed forward still bent on the quivering living in front of them. Yet, the teen seemed to understand to a point that the living now had the upper hand as they began to shoot the undead purposely in the head and from fifteen only eight undead remained. He glared at the director and groaned his disapproval. As a respond a bullet headed towards the teen's head, and the teen harshly moved his head to the right letting the bullet go past him.
The director's eyes widened with fear and the bodyguard gasped in shock. Shit! This thing still has recognition? How? Damn… where were all her good shots? Dead, ugh! She pulled the trigger towards the teen and again he dodged by crouching to the ground. The teen's pace began to increase to a jog and he leapt on the table angered at the director, he roared his disdain and the rest of the creatures paused for a moment to head towards his location.
Damn! Can this get any worse? The teen clamped the remaining of his mouth on the neckline of the last scientist which was the head and ripped out the scientist's throat with his teeth. The scientist gurgled on his blood threatening to cut off his airway; he flung his left hand to his throat in pain and shock. Trying in vain to live, blood gushed freely from his neck and his mouth. He took an uneasy breath as more undead were drawn to his struggle and others bit into him as he thrashed still alive until he succumbed to his injuries.
While the teen was distracted with the scientist and glaring at the director, the bodyguard took action and his bullet met its target… the head of the lead creature. The teen's eyebrows go up in shock, his jaws slackened from the throat of the scientist and his body began to shake vigorously. The table he stood on collapsed under him as he exploded due to the pressure of the viral load in his body. His guts and his innards splashed on the remaining of the facility members of eighteen covering them from head to toe in his bodily fluids excluding the director and her bodyguard.
Six Hours Later
Three doors were blocked off: the conference room, the main lab and the entrance to the CDC building. On all doors with bright red spray paint read, DANGER: UNDEAD IN THIS AREA, DON'T ATTEMPT TO OPEN!
Both the director and the bodyguard leaned against the outside of the main building door gasping in pain from running as if the devil was after them and in a way he was, but in forms of masses of undead colleagues.
The director's breathing finally calmed down to respond, "This can still be contained."
"Contained? CONTAINED! We have fucking friends and family in there that are freaking dangerous to the general population. And you want to contain this? The whole damn building is fucking infected with those things! We barely got out with our LIVES! And you want to contain this!" He shouted at the top of his lungs to meet with furious pounding on the opposite side of the door being held together by flimsy metal chains, he paused at the noise of pounding and moaning to clear his throat. He quietly responds, "There's no containing this, Diana. We screwed our country over with this massive secret, enough is enough! If you won't tell, then I'll tell everyone myself."
Diana chewed on her lips nervously, "If we tell the whole truth. The government will have our asses, Chris… You and I both know that."
"I would prefer for my ass to be handed out by the government, then by those things in there!" Chris pointed at the door.
Diana glared at the fear in Chris's eyes and she glanced back at the way they came from… hell. She picked up her mobile phone still attached to her hip and spoke, "Get me CNN." She motioned to Chris that she needed to step away from him to talk privately and Chris sat down the dry dusty clay ground taking a needed break to let Diana have her privacy.
Diana stepped twenty feet away from Chris to say to the voice at the end of the line, "Sir… we have a problem." She glanced back at Chris, who smiled back at her and she turned away to continue her conversation.
"Operative, state your situation." A menacing voice answered back.
"The mission was a failure, and the CDC building is overrun by those creatures." Diana paused unsure of how to continue.
"Is that why you called to report your failure? You understand that SHE won't be pleased."
"No… I and a colleague of mine survived, but now he's demanding that I tell the media what truly happened here."
"Again, I don't understand why you called. THIS LINE IS ONLY TO BE USED FOR EMERGENCIES, AND THIS IS NOT ONE!" The voice softens a bit, "You know what you must do…"
"I understand sir. It will be contained." The voice at the other end hung up on her and Diana sighed heavily. She has always liked Chris but her real job came first, her feet followed the way back to Chris who was waiting for her response of good news. He never had a chance to congratulate her bravery against a corrupt government as she drew her gun out and quickly disposed of the leak by shooting him in the head to make sure he wouldn't come back again. She called the real CNN line and updated them on what they needed to know.
CNN Headquarters
Mathew, the director of CNN got off the phone with the best news ever. He motioned the top rated newswoman, Joyce to come over and whispered the info to her. She headed back to her station excited for breaking news.
"Breaking News, the CDC has confirmed that the virus has the potential to make victims highly aggressive towards loved ones and strangers. Please do not make contact with those with the H1N1-2 virus. The lists of symptoms are as followed: splitting migraines, body aches, hearing loss, sniffling progressing to sneezing, harsh coughs that refuse to go away and aggression. Again please do not make contact with those infected, send them straight to the hospitals for treatment. The hospitals are listed below or on our site for further information."
Meanwhile In Milford, Massachusetts
A speeding white van came to a halt in the middle of an empty road right across from a suburban diner. The female shape-shifter roughly dumped a dazed Emily Kramer onto the concrete. The van rapidly sped off to round a corner of an alleyway, it stopped and the shape-shifter pulled out a gun to terminate her existence which she does.
Emily groaned in pain as she struggled from a crawling stance to her feet. She sluggishly attempted to walk only to have a black sports car blare its horn at her as the driver barely missed running her over. She stared after the driver in bewilderment, another painful groan slipped out and she saw a diner in the distance to walk straight for it. She stepped up onto the sidewalk to open the red framed glass door of the diner, her pale creamy face scrunched in confusion and her brown hair laid about her in a mess of tangles. The thirty five year old Caucasian woman smacked her lips indicating she was hungry and thirsty as she sat down on a red diner stool.
"Hey, need a menu?" One of the workers of the diner came up to her and questioned, a pen tucked on his left ear. Ben, a Caucasian male with blonde hair looked at her with his blue eyes concerned as the woman began to aggressively cough. He pointed his finger in her direction, "Are you okay? Do you want some food? There's a wicked good vegetable soup."
Emily coughed more until she finally shakes her head up and down in agreement.
Ben rounds the corner of the kitchen and yelled at the African American cook, "Hey give me a soup!"
"Onion?" The cook questioned.
Ben rapidly shakes his head no, "No one likes the onion, give me the vegetable soup. And call Marty, would you?"
"Marty?" The cook asked curiously, "how come?" The cooks stirred the vegetable up and scooped a ladle into the white bowl.
"There's some woman out here, she might need some help." Ben shrugged his shoulders.
Ben grabbed the bowl from the cook's hands and heads back to the front of the diner, "Here you go." He gently placed the hot bowl onto the grey counter.
"Thank You." Emily muttered anxiously rubbing her right hand against her left. Ben walked away and Emily began to shakily scoop meager bites of soup into her mouth.
Ben comes back to grab a bowl of bite-sized crackers from the top of the vending machine. "When I was younger I used to eat a bunch of these before my meals came and get full of that. This drove my mom up the wall." He said leaning his elbows on the counter speaking to her. He pointed at a red swollen knot on her left hand, "what happened there?"
Emily glanced at him perplexed.
Ben shifted back away from her sight and stuttered, "N...N...Not that it's any of my business." He shakes his head, "I'll leave you alone if you like."
She closed her eyes for a second and rubbed the knot on her left hand with her right, "I'm trying to remember." Her eyes squeezed tight in remembrance but a blank wall of nothing responded to her consciousness instead of memories.
Chime! The door to the front opened quickly as Marty, an older Caucasian male of fifty walked in towards Ben. "What's the disturbance?"
Ben motioned towards Emily, "Hey Marty."
Marty lifted his solid black police hat from his grayish hair and sets it on the counter with a quiet slam. He takes a seat next to Emily and motioned for Ben to get him a soda.
Emily keeps eating her meal not at all bothered by the officer.
"How are you doing to night? Are you from here?"
Emily lifted her face from her bowl of soup and to look at the officer quietly.
"I do… I live in the area." Marty tilted his head to the side as he said that. "I haven't seen you around." Ben comes around to Marty and placed the can of coke in front of Marty.
"I… I… I was born in Boston." Emily stammered out shaking her head in confirmation.
"Oh yeah… born there? So where do you live now, where's home?" Marty asked leaning towards her personal space.
Emily twists her head to Marty, her eyebrows scrunched again in confusion, "I… I… don't remember." A heavy sigh escaped, "They… they did things."
"Who did things?"
Again Emily's eyes shifts rapidly towards the officer and her bowl of soup in severe anxiety, "I… I… don't know." Her mouth opened wide to cry as her shoulder slumped over in defeat, "They gave me a blue medicine."
"What was the medicine?"
Her teeth clenched in anger yelling, "They didn't tell me!" Her eyes harden to a glint and she held her silverware tightly. Her stance was rigid and agitated.
"It's alright." Marty stated backing slightly off from her space.
"There was a blue… blue one. They confused me." Her mouth began to quiver in fright. "Hurt me and…"
"Ma'am… I think you should come with me."
"No!" Her spoon flung back into the bowl of spoon in surprise.
"No, no... You're not in any t-tr…" Marty gets up to try and reassure her.
"No!" Emily gets up briskly as well from her seat angered at the proposition, "No! STOP IT!" She struggled with the officer.
"You need to talk with somebody." Marty calmly said as he quickly handcuffed her against the grey counter.
"STOP IT! PLEASE…" Emily cries terrified.
"This is Officer Pitts; I got a 51-50. Can you make sure, Hannah is available tonight?"
Several of the customers began to watch Emily closely as her body shook vigorously making her bowl of soup fall to the ground in a loud clatter shattering on the ground. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, blood dribbling down her mouth in a stream, her body collapsed on top of a shard of glass, and in doing so the shard goes right through her forehead killing her. A sudden reaction of an explosion of bodily fluids from Emily splatters blood against the walls, tables and people.
The fluid gets into their eyes, mouth and nose. It stung something awful and Ben began to claw at his face in vain. More people join their attempt of trying to get the fluids off their sensitive areas, scream of agonies begin to escalate as people being to drop dead due to an overload of sensation mostly shock.
Walter's Home (Present time: One Week Later October 31, 2008)
Walter watched the news fascinated by the list of symptoms. It sounds like a mutated virus of the swine flu years back. I wonder… "Peter! I have something fascinating to tell you." In his haste the remote control turned off the TV in the process of him getting up from his favorite plushy brown chair called Zachary. He walked into Peter's room not at all bothered by the nakedness of his son.
Peter jumped in fright and quickly attempts to cover himself failing miserable, "Walter! Didn't you ever hear that knocking is best done when you're outside the door?"
"I have something important to tell you."
"Yes?"
"On your way out, can you get me some cotton candy?" The news clearly forgotten about.
Peter rolled his eyes, "Was that so important that I had no prior warning before you barged into my room like the house was on fire?"
"There was something else, Oh dear... I must have forgotten. Oh well make sure it's the blue one."