Chapter 4: Louis Recalls

PHILADELPHIA

TWO DAYS AFTER FIRST INFECTION...

The late afternoon sun shone brightly over the city, streaming in through the wide windows of an office building. Louis stood in front of the window, talking on his mobile phone in an agitated voice.

"Ray, how many times I gotta tell you? Everything is gonna be just fine, man. So please do not tell me you are calling in sick again."

"No, I'm calling in well, Lou. And I plan to keep it that way," the voice on the other side of the line said firmly.

"For God's sake, Ray..." Louis started, but Ray cut him off.

"Lou, look, no offence. Normally, I love your 'glass half-full' attitude. It's got us through some tough times, alright? But this time, I swear to God, the glass is definitely one-hundred percent half-empty. And the other half is... I dunno, full of piss."

"Come into work, Ray," Louis persisted.

"No, Louis! People are dying! I'm not gonna get infected just to keep Franklin Brothers' bullshit database running!"

"Ray, you're not gonna get infected. There's barely anyone here! There are more infected people in your condo."

"Whatever," the cell-phone blared. "I don't know if you looked out the window, but it's like the end of the world out there."

"Okay, okay. But, thought-exercise, alright? What if it's not?" Louis said, putting on his best thought-provoking tone as he headed toward the male restroom. "What if this 'Green Flu' burns itself out in a week? What if everybody got all excited for nothing, and the only two guys who stayed calm and kept this place running was you and me? You know what we're gonna get for that?" He paused to let his fool-proof argument sink in.

The phone was silent for a moment, before the response came. "Infected."

Louis sighed irritably. "Come into work, Ray," he persisted, reaching the bathroom and pushing the door open. "Trust me. I got a good feeling about this."

However, it was too late; Ray had already disconnected the call.

"Lazy son of a..." Louis grumbled to himself. He entered the dim bathroom and walked over to the stalls. "S'up, man," he said, acknowledging a man standing hunched over in the middle of the room.

Louis sat down on the toilet and looked at his phone, which started beeping erratically.

"Oh, goddamn it," he cursed to himself. "How can that server be down again? I just fixed that mother – "

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud THUMP on the door of his stall.

"Occupied, man," he said, without looking up.

THUMP. The man outside the stall banged on the door again.

"Hey, occupado. This stall is occupied," Louis snapped. "There is someone in this stall already."

There was a moment of silence, then – THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. TH –

"Okay, what the hell?" the already-annoyed systems analyst exclaimed in disbelief. "Could you let a man take a shit in peace?"

There was no reply, just heavy breathing on the other side of the door. Louis could see the other man's shoes through the gap between the tiled floor and stall door. His breathing sounded laboured.

"Hey..." Louis said, suddenly concerned. "Uh, you okay man?"

The other man's shoes disappeared from view, and then Louis heard the sound of throwing up. A dark red puddle of blood appeared on the floor. He was shocked, disgusted, appalled and scared at the same time. He slowly got to his feet, pulling up his pants. He climbed on top of the toilet and carefully peered over the stall door. Where the man had been, there was now a big red puddle and bloody handprints all over the floor.

"Oh, shit..." Louis breathed.

"RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"

Louis whipped his head back to see a raving, slobbering, blood-covered face right behind him. He nearly had a heart-attack right there and then. The man wrapped his arms around Louis' face and chest.

"Oh, shit! Shit!" the young business man yelled.

He struggled with his crazed attacker, who brought his head in toward Louis' forearm, bearing his teeth.

"Don't!" Louis pleaded in vain.

He screamed in pain as the man bit into his arm, drawing blood.

"Get your goddamn hands off me!" he yelled, bringing one of his feet up and kicking the other man in the mouth.

He felt several teeth break under the impact of his shoe, and the offender was thrown off onto the floor. Louis immediately dropped down from the door, heaving. To his horror, the man got back up, his mouth covered in both Louis' blood and his own. He threw himself at Louis again, and the two violently struggled for a few more moments, throwing each other against the walls of the bathroom stall.

The lunatic wrapped his arms around Louis once again, and opened his mouth to sink his remaining teeth into his prey's neck. Louis desperately grabbed for anything to save himself and found the metal toilet-roll dispenser. It hung off the cubicle wall, loosened by the violent tussle in the small space. With his remaining strength, he ripped the metal dispenser free, and then slammed it into his attacker's head. A burst of blood and brain matter sprayed into Louis' face, and the other man crumpled to the floor of the bathroom, dead.

Louis stood hunched over his first kill, heaving, and still grasping the bloody toilet-roll dispenser. His mind was a whirlwind of mayhem. He did not know what to think anymore. Louis dropped the dispenser and walked out of the bathroom, leaving the mutilated body on the floor. He breezed through his office, all of his surroundings little more than a blur. As he sat down at his desk, he looked at the bloody bite-mark on his arm. What was going to happen to him? Louis put his head in his hands and let the grief wash over him.

FAIRFIELD

PRESENT DAY...

Despite sitting tied up in a chair with a throbbing headache, Francis could not help but smirk. "You killed an Infected with your bare hands? You? Now I know this story is bullshit!"

"Quiet!" Bill snapped.

Louis ignored Francis' snide remark and continued with his story. "After what happened, I was trying to get out of the city when I ran into these folk in a safe-house. I told the doctor what had happened to me, but he said that there was still hope. I could be immune. So, what we're doing to you right now, they did the exact same thing to me. Except to see if I was going to turn or not."

Francis sat in silence as he contemplated this information.

"Why would he lie to us, son?" Bill said.

Finally, the big biker looked up, his expression hard and cold. "Fine. If you untie me, I promise not to shoot Louis."

Bill hesitated for a moment, and then he cut the ropes binding Francis' hands and feet. As he climbed to his feet, Louis extended his hand.

"Hey, no hard feelings, man."

Francis just stared at the ex-business man in silence for a moment. "Everyone's different. It might just be that you take longer to turn than other people." He knocked Louis' hand aside and stalked forward, getting right in his face. "Just know that I don't trust you. If you make one slip-up, one wrong turn, give me one good reason to shoot you..."

Francis let the threat hang in the air for a moment, and then he stormed out of the apartment.