I had once asked a friend: "If you know your orders are wrong, would you still follow them?"
He thought about it for a moment before answering: "No." Why? "Because," he answered, "when the world is in disappearing, all you can do is hold onto yourself. No matter what others tell you, they are not you, and for all they are, their judgment may be wrong."
I suppose that is why I broke my promise to him.
ooo
Standing at the roof of an apartment building, I let my gaze run over the compound, and all of its machinery, its arsenal, its defense, its manpower. It was as impressive as the metropolitan of the city itself, however more organized and ordered than the viral masses that served as structures. Towering walls marked off the boundary between the infected city and the base inside, lined with gunmen and turrets of all sorts.
Approaching infected were immediately blasted into scrapes on the ground, whether it be zombies or brawlers or even juggernauts. No matter their speed or size, when they step within range of those nasty rocket turrets, they were just more pieces of flesh that clung to surrounding buildings. Fortunately for me, however, was that the only viral detector at the front entrance had been smashed, by what appeared to be a flying car. The wreckage still smoked. A tank was pulling away the twisted metal.
I saw enough. There was no brute force through those iron gates; they would only mow me down. I stood up, but did not drop down, instead walking away until I looked down to see the opposite side of the building. Here far below a squad of six walked in stiff strides in three rows of two.
Like a spider I descended upon them, quietly along the walls. They were oblivious to death hanging just above their heads. Left, right, left, right. The streets were empty as ever, few signs of any infected creatures or otherwise. Today was one of those quiet days. Left, right, left, right. There was a roar from far away, but that didn't matter. Even if it was a goliath the beast would be dead soon, from the sounds of bombs being dropped. Left, right, left, right.
Splat!
"Hey! What was that?" The team leader whirled around, gun raised, as did the rest of the squad. They formed a crescent shape, blue visors glaring into the smoke. The silence stretched, with nobody daring to breath. The flashlight barely managed to penetrate the rising dust.
Finally, after a tense twenty seconds, nothing appeared, nothing moved, nothing came to bite their heads off. The team leader relaxed again, but still his shoulders were tense, as with his movements. "March!"
For another two hours they marched, step by step, but the strange sounds left them all just a bit cynical. Left, right, left, right. There were no anomalies to appear around the base, save for a group of zombies that somehow managed to get around the tank patrols. They were gunned down mercilessly and their bodies moved to avoid the spreading of the virus in the decontaminated area. The rest of the shift went quietly. Left, right, left, right.
They returned to the base soon after, by marching, along with five other squads, through the iron gate, which shut with a loud boom behind them. Of course they weren't worried. They were so used to it. In their little groups of six they filed into the residential hall, which contained beds, showers, lockers, desks, spare computers, and all the other essential needs of a soldier. Adam, a new recruit, suddenly spoke up as they settled down.
"I have some errands to run." There were a couple of snickers, though no one stopped him. He left the quarters and headed towards the main area of the compound. He found a janitor, who was mopping away at a brown mush on the floor. The janitor did not look up as he approached, only stepping out of the way of the approaching soldier. There was no one else around. Adam had other ideas.
"Hey! What is this?!" The custodian's feet lifted off of the ground as the hand around his neck tightened. He opened his mouth, and found no words. In front of him was what had once been a soldier of the military, but vines of red emerged from the eye sockets and the mouth were of razor teeth.
Then I was in the middle of a hallway, a mop in my hand, wearing a janitor's uniform. The mess in front of me waited patiently. Looking down both ends of the white corridor, I lay the mop against the wall and quickly tiptoed away, hoping there were no security cameras, nor officers who would wonder about the sludge that still existed.
From the janitor's memories I knew the general layout of the entire compound, including the cafeteria, the residential quarters (where I was), the holding cells, the generals' quarters, arsenal, hanger, and training grounds. Suddenly I had too many choices, and there wasn't enough time to follow my heart's desires before Adam was discovered missing and the entire base went into lockdown. However, there was time to follow my curiosity as it led me to the arsenal, which was strangely located underground. Along the way I was forced to consume another soldier for he had looked at me funny.
At last, without any more complications, I stood outside of a large, metal vault door. A green sign on the ground proclaimed it the arsenal. A keypad was on the side, yet there was no password. Perhaps they would only lock it in case of an emergency? But that didn't matter. I soundlessly opened the door and slipped inside.
It was dark, but I was not deterred. By diluting my pupils until the whole eye turned black and subtly changing the lenses, I effectively had night vision, though I still struggled to read the signs posted for directions. "In- … -fan- … -try … armory…" I managed to make out. I didn't want to go that way yet, because something else caught my attention. "Bio- … -tech … weapons..." That certainly sounded interesting, though oddly it drew up a shiver. I assured myself that I was not afraid of anything the military had in store, and with more confidence, marched towards where the arrow led.
Through another metal door, there were tanks, as in big, big, colorless metal cylinders that stood, enclosed by one another. There were sorts of control panels on each one. The machines were off, though still I felt a sinister intent about them. Bloodtox Valves. Warning! Extremely Toxic! Handle with care! Just the word itself chilled me. They numbered so many that it was a wonder the military didn't just spray one tank into the city. It would probably kill off all of the virus. I looked up; the top of the tanks were hidden in the shadows far above, only adding to the intense size of these tanks. The exact size of the room was a mystery to me, but as far as I could tell, it stretched far, far away, where light didn't reach. There must be hundreds of thousands of gallons of bloodtox in this place. I wanted like laugh like a maniac.
Shuffle, shuffle.
Then I heard them. They were coming close, so close.
Shuffle, shuffle.
I must leave soon, or else risk painful death.
Shuffle, shuffle.
The first flashlight that came around the corner almost blinded me. Luckily I was able to open up another visual organ before the other two wore away. Then a shout: "I found it!" Then the shuffling disappeared and turned into a clutter of footsteps. I could not be found.
The man stood just inside of the bloodtox chamber, distracting himself by giving a quick glance outside of the room. I leaped high in the split second and attached myself to the ceiling. There were whimpers from below. Now the man was panicking; he had lost his sight! Frantically he scanned the flashlight back and forth along the ground, looking for movements in the gloom. Of course, I simply crawled high above him, where I was invisible. When he was directly below me, I dropped.
He didn't have time to scream as I squished him into a fountain of gore. Immediately the viable masses were absorbed, leaving a only splatter of blood. I didn't have time to savor my victory as I saw more flashlights rounding around the corner. "Bravo team has visual," said a monotonous voice.
"Fire at will," came the earpieces. My eyes widened at the impending situation.
I didn't wait for them to take the first shot, dashing quickly towards the group of men. Bullets thumped into me, though they hardly slowed me down. The bloodtox burn aftereffect was more of a problem. I was feeling sluggish and pained.
"Keep shooting."
I had been hit by no more than half a dozen bullets before I was on them, a pair of thin blades ripping through flesh and bone easily, all the while feeling the impact of more metal projectiles. The pain was really irritating now. Four out of eight men died.
"Gas man here."
Confused, I looked up. Standing in front of me, covered in plates of metal, was a large man, somewhat overweight too. On his back was a pair of strapped tanks, which were connected via pumps to a cannon in his hand. The technology looked something belonging to the Second World War era. By the time I had figured out what it was, he had already fired.
The bloodtox gas hit me like a hammer, blocking my sights, sounds and feelings. No more bullets popped into me, but the red stench itself was enough. It was as though I was bathing in a bath of acid, which constantly corroded away at me while I tried to reform my shape. The pain was almost unbearable, pushing at my barrier of sanity. My fake skin was shredded, leaving the viral mass visible below, a pulse of red and black.
"Hit it!"
Then came the net: a heavy, 200 lb net that pinned me at around a hundred miles per hour. Suddenly I couldn't even writhe away, forced to endure the full blast of the bloodtox. Each time I tried to form eyes, they burned away. Each time I tried to pull away the net, my hands melted.
The gas changed. Something else was added to the corrosive mixture. I felt heavy, so heavy that I would soon melt into a puddle on the floor. It was a strange feeling, as though I was sleepy. This thought I had not experienced in the past months. Along the time the bloodtox seemed to have stopped, but the fog of death had not left, still pouring its stale breath onto me. At some point my senses must have reformed, and I heard voices and saw blurs of shadows. They made no sense.
"Took the whole tank," spoke one in horror, though with a underlying tone of impress.
"Keep your mouth shut and keep feeding it the sedative. We don't want it to wake too soon," chastised another, a heavy voice.
Perhaps they were talking about me. Yes, that must be it, but I had no way to fight it. The blackness was here, and it wanted its due. I could not resist, for the blackness was all there was left. Finally, I slipped into its embrace, and the blurs and the shadows and their voices disappeared.
ooo
I had the strangest sense of déjà vu when I woke, to find myself in a brightly lit but empty room, under a harsh, white light, on a rigid, unyielding bed. Of course, I was not in discomfort, at least not physically. Just the sensation of being awaken in such an unfamiliar setting disorientated me. There was a glass panel that replaced one entire wall of the small chamber. A military man stood outside, glaring in. I felt the need to ignore him, but there was just something about him that kept me staring.
"Subject awake, showing no signs of infection," said a muted voice from away. Opposite from where the clear glass was a wall of reflective glass, one I wasn't supposed to see through, but perhaps they had mistaken the odd abilities of us that allowed us to be not quite normal, for I saw with almost clarity to the scientists who scribbled down messy writings on notepads. They glanced up every now and then to the man standing in the front of the room, who was announcing every move I made.
"Subject aware of possible observation; showing signs of intelligence." Maybe they thought I wouldn't hear them. It was almost true. I couldn't hear as I would from a normal person, but by shaping my auricular structure, I could pick up the murky sounds from the man's lips. "Subject's movements suggests predatory nature; capable of quick analysis of situation."
The officer held more interest than someone who told me exactly what I was doing every second of my existence in this room, more of a prison cell, now that I thought about it. It was extremely empty, except for the two walls of bullet-proof glass and the fluorescent light, protected by the same material. A tiny gate, about the size of a forearm, guarded the floor on one of the walls. The red light by its side proclaimed it locked.
He did not move, did not seem to breath, nor showed signs of emotions. Annoyed at his game, I stood up from the bed and surveyed the room again. There was no difference at a different height, except for I noticed the bed was in the exact middle of the room. It was screwed tight into the floor. Between the watching military man and the greedy scientists, I wanted to see if I could pull the only furniture from the ground, but decided a show of strength would serve no purpose. So I walked to where the officer stared, and stared back at him. He met my eyes with dull stares of his own. Arms cross with pursed lips, he was quite intimidating.
One second passed, two seconds. Then ten, twenty. I was a lot better at this game than he was, mostly because I don't need to blink, and had basic control over every little detail of myself. After thirty seconds, he began to sweat. After forty, he began blinking a lot. After a minute, his jaw clenched and breathing became uneven. After two minutes, he lost patience.
"Who are you?" It wasn't so much as a question as a means to get me to talk, yet I was genuinely surprised.
"Are you saying you don't know who I am?" I asked, mildly.
"Subject capable of human behavior and human speech," stated the muted scientist.
"Don't play games me with," growled the officer.
To which I replied, "Then I will ask you the same."
And the scientist got excited. "Subject shows higher level intelligence compared to other specimen." Other specimen? Never mind, that's for later.
"You're not the master here. I am." The officer was beginning to become slightly angry. I thought perhaps I enjoyed toying with him.
"My name is Annalisa Snow." I paused, listening to the sudden commotion behind me. They were really working themselves up finding me before my turn.
The officer's brown brows furrowed. He would look quite a nice man, with the exception that his mouth was in a hard line. His eyes glared with the lack of sleep and his muscles tensed under his camouflage shirt. I would break him soon.
"What are you?" Learning from mistakes.
"Good question." The scientists were most likely writing every instance of the conversation down, from the serious scratches of pen against paper. "One that I am not sure even if I knew the answer to. However, if you will kindly ask the creator, I am sure he can explain it better."
"Try." His glaring became more intense. Perhaps he had been aware of my tactic to distract him from the question.
"Very well. I am a vessel to the Blacklight virus. As for what kind of vessel, all I can give you is what we call a prototype. However, since all prototypes are different, I can't classify myself into a more specific category other than myself."
"Try," he stated again, more harshly. I was beginning to think that instead of a friendly visit, this was more of an interrogation. Looked like he wasn't going to be falling for diversions to the current subject.
"Fine." I was becoming annoyed. I could tell the scientists were excited at my show of emotions, no matter how lightly. "As a prototype, I came with all the pre-packages of being one, such as superhuman abilities and whatnot. But besides that, everyone is different, from an emotional standpoint, at least. Some I know are very sympathetic to you worms," I enjoyed the flicker of surprise to the venom in my words, "while others, like me, can't care less. I do not live through a day in which I do not brutally tear apart a human being. And I do enjoy taking my victims alive." Finally, there was the look of disgust I had been hoping for. "Yes, I like my victims alive, and screaming. Without screams, there won't be as much actions, huh?" He was now truly angry. Veins on his neck bulged. "And then I eat them, either by slurping out their insides like a slushy or by just straight up eating them. It's fun either way, and I honestly don't care as long as I get my good meal." Not true, but good enough to play with him with.
At this point the officer positively glowered at me, while the scientists behind were shocked into silence. I smiled, letting him see the wickedness in my eyes and the shadows of sharp and pointed teeth in the back of my throat. He frowned, as though he thought he was hallucinating, though he was called away before he could actually get a better look.
"Captain Vinson, General Gallegos would like to speak to you," said an enlisted from behind. My eyes flickered to the young man, who was hard keeping himself from moving too visibly. I saw his tenseness and fear as clear as day, though I felt no need to threaten him other than a very obvious sign that I was observing him. To his credit, he only barely glanced my way once.
Vinson nodded without looking at the man, who dismissed himself. We held a silent stare for another ten seconds, then I disengaged it.
"Captain Vinson," I dipped my head. I saw his jaw clutch and neck tense. I won.
"Ms. Snow," he managed to ground out. Then he turned and left without another word. I allowed myself a small smile.
There was a clear of a throat. "Subject is capable of twisting words for self purposes and–" He shut up when I whirled around and stared at him in the face. He saw nothing short of a devil's, the golden eyes, burning cheeks, monstrous teeth. Then the moment passed, and the helpless prisoner was back.
"At least make it quiet if you must record everything I do in this cell." Then I spat at him, the blue chemical dripping like goo, slicking down the glass. I took satisfaction in his expression while I knelt against the clear window and closed my eyes. I let my mind wonder, if only to see if it still could. I was surprised to discover later that galaxies of childhood still existed, however bloodied they were; but they still existed.
A/N
New character introduced: Captain Leo R. Vinson. This is one of the first military personnel you will be seeing. He will play an important role later (but I don't want to tell anything now because it will give away the potential plot).
Enjoying the story so far? Tell me! You don't need an account to leave a comment. I welcome all praises and criticisms.
So today my editor told me maybe I shouldn't have implemented the Titan (big thingy from last chapter) into the story, because the goliath is already enough and it made the infected overpowered against the military. What do you guys think? I need some opinions. And if I have to, I'll just let the possibility sit there and leave it out of the rest of the story.
To my faithful reviewers: thank you very much for your good suggestions and comments. I will follow them as my editor sees fit (he says I work too much).