A nervous man removed his protective, yellow hazmat suit, folding it neatly before placing it into a front-loading autoclave to be sterilized. Neither his body, mind, nor soul were prepared for the events that would take place during the coming dawn, so he had decided to simply not be a part of it anymore.
Assured that his fellow co-workers were turning in early for the night, he made his way quietly over to a small, portable freezer and entered the proper combination into its digital padlock. He removed several items from the freezer, including a small package encased in bubble wrap, and made his way over to his tiny bed. He placed the package and what little belongings he had into a small travel bag and walked out of the green trailer, shivering despite the warm, balmy, evening air. Pausing only to let out a weary sigh, he melted swiftly into the encroaching darkness towards the nearest bar- determined to drown his overwhelming anxiety and depression with copious amounts of alcohol.
A savvy, dark haired conman in a gleaming, white suit sauntered confidently into a seedy tavern and approached its proprietor.
"I take it you're Charles?" the burly man behind the counter asked gruffly, eyeing the ridiculously expensive suit up and down.
"That's me." The man said, handing him a credit card.
As the proprietor led him towards a private backroom, Nick could barely suppress his desire to shout out to everyone in the establishment that 'Charles' was most definitely not his name. Adrenaline was pumping through his system, filling him with euphoria and making him feel so very alive.
The conman smiled gleefully. Identity theft was definitely his second favorite pastime. He could do anything he wanted down here, buy anything he wanted, and his ex-wife's new husband would have to pick up the tab.
Before entering the back room to partake in his favorite pastime, he spotted a depressed man seated by himself in a corner, guzzling down his drink- the perfect prey.
"Hold on a sec," he motioned for the proprietor to stop, "that guy's with me."
"You look like someone who's down on his luck," the conman said with a sly smile as he made his way over to the other man, "Care for a game of cards?"
"I got nothing to lose," the depressed man replied with a shrug and followed the conman into the private backroom filled with the shadiest characters in all of Savannah.
"How the fuck did you manage a royal flush?"
As he watched his angry fellow gamblers storm off in defeat, Nick gloated over his ill-gotten treasure like a dragon in his lair. Four hundred dollars cash, a box of Habanos, and another gold ring to add to his collection- not terrible earnings for a single night, and they would hold him until he hit the riverboat circuit in a few days.
He gathered his own personal deck of cards and began shuffling them almost lovingly between his fingers as he eyed the depressed man still seated next to him, guzzling down a beer. The conman actually felt sorry for the guy and had changed his mind about taking any earnings from him.
"You were fucked as soon as you agreed to play, you know."
"Yeah, I figured as much, but I did have a good time, and I thank you for that."
The sound of someone coughing rather forcefully in the main room of the tavern caused the tipsy man to twitch nervously.
"I'm sure you've heard of the Green Flu."
Nick nodded his head, "It's one of the reasons I came down here- to get the fuck away from it. That kind of shit skeeves me out."
"Well I hate to say it, but it's already made its way down here. There might even be infected people in this very city."
"Holy shit," the conman muttered, "But I've heard it's just like the regular flu. Just a little more deadly, right?" He started to feel very nervous, and the other man seemed to sense and feed off of Nick's growing panic.
"I work for CEDA, so believe me when I tell you that it's nothing like the regular flu. Some people are immune, but most aren't. You don't even want to know what it does to people…how it changes them." The man began to tremble and his words became laced with anxiety. "We've failed miserably at controlling it…I'm sick of all the secrecy, the cover-ups…lying to the public. Pennsylvania is in ruins- in fucking ruins! In a few days, the whole Northeast'll be a wasteland. And do you hear about it in the news? In any sort of presidential address? NO!"
"Good thing I never had any faith in the government," Nick snarled as he placed the new ring on one of his few remaining unadorned fingers. He then shoved the cash, a couple of the Habanos, and his trusty deck of cards into his suit pockets.
"Look, you're a crafty, wily bastard and I like you, so I'm telling you now- go to the Vannah hotel and stay for the night. There's going to be an evacuation there in the morning….shit's gonna get ugly real fast…I can just feel it in my bones…God, I need a fucking drink!"
"Nicolas!"
The booming voice that interrupted the CEDA worker sent a jolt down the conman's spine. Whoever it was, they knew his real name- not good.
"If you only knew how much trouble it's been to track you down!" A detective and four policemen stood at the doorway.
Nick began to back away towards the bar.
"You're under arrest for multiple counts of grand larceny, illegal gambling, extortion, and identity theft."
With all those charges, Nick knew he would be immediately hauled off and locked in a holding cell at the local jail to await trial- not exactly the best place to be if the CEDA guy was to be taken seriously- and Nick was taking him seriously. In fact, he was more than freaked out by what the man had told him.
"You forgot one thing." The casual smile that slowly crept across the conman's face masked the tense, nervous energy building up in his muscles.
"Oh?" The detective mused, "Well then enlighten me."
"Murder."
The sound of the Nick's response was drowned out by the scream of the bullet that emerged from his hidden pistol as the conman whipped it out of his jacket and leapt behind the bar in a single burst of fluid movement. The bullet caught the detective's neck, sending the man down to the floor.
The frightened CEDA worker ducked under a table as a flurry of bullets erupted from the policemen's guns. One of the cops circled slowly around the bar, his gun outstretched tensely as his partners ceased fire.
Nick's hearing was acute, and once the frightened screams of fleeing pub-crawlers subsided, he could hear the policeman's footsteps crunching noisily on the shattered glass that littered the floor. From his crouched position, the conman was already pre-planning every movement of his body.
He smiled once more as he felt the hot blood surging through his being. Nick's fear of the Green Flu had already heightened his senses and doused him with a feeling of dread. Now though, as he saw the blurred flurry of movement from the policeman's gun as it emerged around the edge of the bar, all of his fear melted away. The Green Flu was unknown, but this- this was familiar.
The conman erupted into a kinesthetic frenzy, firing his pistol while simultaneously rolling to the side. The policeman missed his target. Nick did not. As his bullets hit the cop in the chest, the conman sprung backwards while firing another shot. He kept his momentum going as bullets streaked around him, circling around the edge of the bar and slinking fluidly across the floor. He ended up under the table next to the CEDA worker, who quickly produced a bubble wrapped package from his bag and handed it to Nick.
"What the fuck is this?" The conman flinched as a bullet missed him by inches.
"Just take it, I won't be needing it anymore! It just might save your life!"
"Will it magically get rid of these fucking cops, cuz that'd be nice!" Nick shouted as he fired his gun from between the legs of the chairs.
The CEDA worker frowned, "I can't guarantee you that it will work, but as soon as you get a free moment, you need to use what's in that package- all of it. I'm sure you'll figure it out once you see what's inside."
He then pulled out a large bottle of green fluid from his bag.
"Damn, am I glad I ran into you."
Nick cocked an eyebrow as he realized the man wasn't being sarcastic.
"Oh yeah? Now why's that?"
"Cuz now I don't have to deal with this God damn Green Flu. Hopefully, you'll be glad you met me too. After I throw this, run. Run like your fucking life depends on it because it does. Remember what I told you, and don't stop running until you reach the hotel."
The CEDA worker jumped up and hurled the container at the policemen as their bullets struck him in the chest.
One of the policemen cried out as the bottle shattered in his face, blinding him.
Nick took advantage of the chaos and jumped over the CEDA worker's lifeless body and out into the night.
He flew down the streets, nimbly avoiding cars and swerving through crowds of people as he headed towards the Vannah hotel. The conman was a drifter, and as such he had been down in Savannah several times before. He was familiar with several of the districts and had a pretty good idea as to where he was headed.
The police were still on his tail, and he knew he had to either lose them or dispose of them. He ducked into an alleyway, gripping his pistol tightly as he zigzagged through the dark, narrow gaps between buildings so swiftly that he nearly trampled over an elderly, homeless man coughing profusely on the ground.
Nick could both smell the vile substance that the CEDA guy had thrown and hear the rapid fall of footsteps dangerously close behind him. The fact that the footsteps belonged to only one policeman made him more nervous. They had obviously split up, and could be lying in wait ahead of him in the darkness.
He suddenly staggered as the homeless man jumped up, shoved him to the side, and sprinted with alarming speed straight at the approaching cop.
Horrified, Nick watched as the old man- completely unfazed by the bullets that pierced his stomach and shoulder- leapt onto the policeman and ripped the nose off the poor man's face with his teeth.
"Holy fucking shit!" Nick screamed as he ran back out into the street. His mind was racing more quickly than his body as he tried to process what he had just witnessed.
He dodged and weaved nimbly through the ever-thickening crowds of people, taking slight comfort from the cover that the living walls of flesh provided him.
Once again, he nearly trampled over someone in his frantic effort to reach the hotel.
"Hey, sir! You dropped this!"
At least this guy wasn't a psychotic monster.
Nick panicked as he stared at the object in the young man's hand. If it had been the money, or his deck of cards, he would have kept running, but of course it was the CEDA guy's gift which- the conman was now completely convinced- was something extremely important.
"Thanks kid." He glanced at the smiling face and swiped the package from the young man's hand before traversing through the crowd once more.
His lungs were on fire, but once he finally caught sight of the hotel emerging from the darkness ahead of him, Nick doubled his pace. The ringing of gunfire and more of the policemen's piercing screams caused him to triple his pace and he nearly burst through the glass doors of the hotel.
"I need a fucking room!" The conman shouted at the frightened receptionist, thrusting a pile of cash at her with such force that it disintegrated into a flurry of individual bills like leaves in a hurricane. Thankfully, the wide-eyed woman handed him a key with no resistance and Nick stumbled over to the elevator, collapsing inside of it as it carried him up to the thirteenth floor.
After locking the door to his room, Nick quickly peeled off all of his clothing and jumped into the shower, sighing deeply as the pulsating stream of water danced across his tense shoulders and back.
Not bothering to dress himself as he exited the shower, he quickly ripped open the package to discover two small, glass vials and a 3cc needle tipped syringe. Nick held one of the vials close to his face to read the tiny print on its label.
Sterile Diluent.
Within the vial was a clear liquid that he assumed was water. The second vial, filled halfway with a white powder, had a label that was much more complex, and the only thing Nick could decipher with any sort of meaning from the microscopic print were three phrases- each more worrisome than the last.
Single Dose
Modified Live
Untested
"Vaccine," He barely said the word out loud as he carried the vials and syringe over to the bed, placing them on the mattress as he sat down next to them. He glanced at the clock- just after midnight- and began weighing his options.
The conman was meticulous and fastidious by nature. In calculated defiance of his humble upbringing, Nick had done everything in his power- short of working an honest job- to make sure he could afford the very best in food, drink, clothing, and material possessions. He abhorred anything that was unclean and was something of a germaphobe. As such, the revelations that had unfolded during the night were driving him crazy.
Nick lit one of the Habanos and nervously smoked the entire thing.
He thought about the old man in the alley. Surely he had been sick…maybe even with the Green Flu. Beads of sweat formed on Nick's forehead, dripping onto his chest as he breathed heavily. His heart was pounding more quickly now than when he had been running.
Suddenly, a heavy shuffling could be heard coming from the hallway beyond his room. Nick lifted himself slowly off the bed, flinching at the creaking produced by the springs of the mattress. He had not turned on the lights to his room, so he tiptoed cautiously in the darkness towards the door, trying to subdue his heavy breathing as he held an eye to the peephole. He could see nothing but the eerie blackness that blanketed the hallway and let out a single shaky exhalation before making his way back towards the bed.
He had already been exposed to the Virus, he was sure of it.
"Fuck."
The old man had been coughing- had touched him- before viciously attacking the cop.
You don't even want to know what it does to people…how it changes them.
"Oh, fuck…oh, fuck…"
Nick shuddered and scratched at his neck and shoulders, which only caused the burning pinpricks assaulting his flesh to intensify.
Then he coughed once.
In a panic, he picked up the syringe with trembling hands and pulled the cap off, exposing the sterile, 22 gauge needle to the air. As more sweat trickled down his face, he punctured the vial of the diluent with the needle and sucked out all the liquid within. He then snatched up the second vial- the one with the powder- and prepared to mix it with the diluent in the syringe.
Then Nick hesitated, taking in the irony of the situation. A wizened, cynical, daredevil with an iron-clad poker face who had chosen to make gambling his profession, was now trembling in a dark room during the wee hours of the morning as he prepared to take the biggest gamble of his life.
Was he truly willing to administer an unknown, untested substance into his own body?
Could he afford not to?
Some people are immune, but most aren't.
Shaking himself from the CEDA worker's words, he glanced at the clock once more- 2AM.
Nick wiped his brow, his panting fraught with anxiety. He couldn't believe that two hours had flown by. He capped the syringe without reconstituting the powder in the second vial and placed everything into the small fridge next to the television.
Perhaps he wouldn't need the vaccine. He would be evacuated in a few hours anyway.
Feeling too exhausted and uncomfortably hot to put his clothing back on, Nick lowered his head onto the pillow, hoping to get a few hours of rest from what was left of the night. He was so tired that he drifted into a twilight sleep with his eyes still half open as he stared up at the ceiling- except he didn't see the ceiling. Instead, a figure began materializing in front of his vision.
The face was indistinct, but he caught a glimpse of brown, wavy hair…a flash of blue-gray eyes.
The figure slowly came closer, holding a bubble wrapped package in his outstretched hands.
Nick inhaled deeply.
In response, the figure cupped his hands around the package, and when he uncupped them, nothing but the syringe- filled with a gleaming green liquid- could be seen. Again the figure extended his hands, offering- daring the conman to take it.
Nick exhaled deeply.
The lids of his eyes became unbearably heavy so he closed them, which caused the figure to become more distinct as it now hovered an inch above him.
Nick could see the blue eyes close, mimicking his own.
He could see the full lips part slightly.
He could feel the warm breath flow over his face...
Nick nearly jolted from the bed as his eyes snapped open. The first glimmer of dawn caressed the curtains of the window, and he dropped back down onto his pillow. Placing a forearm over his weary eyes, the conman began to think about the vaccine in the fridge, uncertain about his decision once more.
"Thanks, kid...thanks a fucking lot." He murmured, before drifting off into true sleep.