Pandemic: Hope

Chapters

Saint Junivus
Quarantine
Strain
Over the Edge

Saint Junivus

The courtyard leading up to the campus before me was as inauspicious as it was beautiful. It boasted an assurance for relief to my ailment. My continued sickness, however, has left my wholly unconvinced that it would ever come.

If it were not for the flourishing plant life, I wouldn’t wish to linger in my environment any longer than necessary. The building, along with the stony path leading up to it, was unsightly. It was a blotch against the very nature it was erected upon.

My opinion of it, of course, was skewed by its significance. That I should require outside assistance for the foreseeable future, possibly indefinitely, made it hard for me to see it any other way. My only solace were the rosemaries and petunias which lined my dwelling; they painted a stark contrast to my grim reality with their beauty. As such, my attention was solely focused on their visage.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” a nearby resident asked, and I was suddenly aware that I wasn’t alone. That shouldn’t have surprised me, for solitude was a precious commodity any of us could hardly afford.

My unwanted companion was sitting, if you could call it that, on a bench facing the courtyard. He was a quirky fellow who seemed unable to remain still for longer than the time it took to blink. The wood creaked underneath him as he shifted his weight, and he rubbed the cool metal of the armrest with one hand. His eyes darted back and forth as he ran the other through his scraggly hair.

“Did you forget to take your meds again, Monty?” I asked without trying to sound offensive. He was a fellow resident, but that was where our relationship ended. I couldn’t allow myself to attain a close acquaintance with anyone here regardless of their condition, perhaps even because of it.

“Meds? What meds? I’m perfectly healthy. Right as rain. I’ll have ya know I can walk out there right this instant.” Montgomery tapped his feet on the ground one after the other in quick succession. He then pointed an accusing finger at me and laughed shrilly. “It’s you who need the meds, Bart!”

I tried to distance myself from the degrading statement with no great success. Montgomery, and near everyone else around me, undoubtedly thought what I knew to be true: I was a lost cause.

The sounds of the front door opening disturbed our temporary, albeit eccentric, serenity. A man outfitted in scrubs, I believe his name was David, had come out to join us. I was a little leery of him despite his enthusiastic gestures. His smiles always seemed insincere. The day someone didn’t see me as anything more than a paycheck was the day I went insane.

“Dr. Webster wishes to see you in his office, Bart. It’s bad news, I’m afraid,” David said. He gestured for me to follow him, but after I gave him a pointed stare, he broke eye contact and turned to Monty. His voice took on a saccharine tone as he spoke to him. “Why hello there! It’s just about time for your meds. Why don’t I take you back to…”

David’s voice faded even before I took my first steps through those double wide doors of the Saint Junivus Psychiatric Ward. My mind wandered to the meeting, and for a sickening moment I wish that it hadn’t. There was nothing else it could be except my persistent affliction.

“You can’t trust the lot of them,” he said. I glanced over my shoulder. The action was useless, for I was alone, but the urge to look was overpowering nonetheless. “They’ll string ya up faster than you can count to ten.”

I opened the doctor’s office as soon as I finally arrived, doing my best to ignore the voice. For my troubles I was awarded entrance to a broom closet. I slammed the door in frustration; I was sure that was where I last found Dr. Webster.

“That grisly, old doctor is nothing but trouble.” I wasn’t sure which one of us was talking at this point. “All we’ll get is more questions with him. Questions, questions, questions, and never an answer for any of them.”

I was suddenly aware of my inability to extricate myself from this reality, if it can be called that, I’m trapped in. It was in times like these that I found it more difficult to distinguish what was real and what was not. I was sure that was the doctor’s office, and for all I knew it could be and I had somehow imagined it as a broom closet.

As I made my way through the ward, I could feel the stares of nearby residents. I was reasonably sure I hadn’t yet done anything outwardly to garner this attention, but I have it all the same. I tried to brush the nauseating feeling aside, and everything became a blur with each resounding step I took.

I stumbled into Dr. Webster’s office by happenstance, thankful that it took no longer than it did. The other residents were a constant, painful reminder of my supposed frailty.

“Where’s David? He should know better by now than to leave you wandering the halls alone.” Dr. Webster was the type of person who stuck to a plan. He was liable to flip a gasket over the smallest of deviations: something about untold catastrophes looming over an impromptu deed.

“Tending to another resident,” I said curtly.

“You’ve been able to make it this time. Need I emphasize what could have happened? You do remember what happened last time, don’t you?” He repeatedly tapped a file in his hand before letting it fall open on his desk. He meticulously straightened the stack of papers inside, lining each and every one of them up until a carpenter’s level would have been perfectly centred.

“I can manage.” The sooner he said his piece, the sooner I could leave. It was as if he was deliberately prolonging this meeting.

Dr. Webster grumbled, but he refrained from saying anything more. He reached inside of the front pocket of his coat and pulled out a pair of glasses. After putting them on, he flipped through the file for a moment. He then placed them on the desk and looked me in the eye.

“Our latest scans showed no improvement toward your… disposition.” He rapped his thumbs on the desk and released a heavy sigh. “I trust you know where that leaves us for treatment options.”

The moment which followed was as silent as a grave.

“Due to the lack of responsiveness to your medication, the next course of treatment available to us would be electroconvulsive therapy… Of course, it is not without its potential risks: seizures, complications to your cardiovascular system, and trauma. Death is also a possibility, although the chances for that are marginal.”

“No.”

“Will you at least consider it? As it stands now, I see no other alternative and—”

“No!” I slammed my fist into the desk. “This is pointless! I’m only here in the first place on my brother’s insistence. I got by just fine on my own before all this, and I can continue to do so.” I was distinctly aware of the excruciating pain now coursing through my hand. “I… must.”

The doctor shot me a dejected look and then rubbed his temples. He sat back in his chair, as if in deep thought, and swiveled until he was facing away from me. “...Perhaps it is best we move away from this topic for the time being and reconvene at a later date. Take all the time you need before coming to a decision.”

“The nerve of him,” my disembodied companion said, “to speak with us in that tone! He thinks he knows what’s best for me, does he?”

“What are you—” my doctor stopped mid-sentence.

Everything happened so fast. Before I knew it, I was standing over Webster, on the other side of the desk, with a fist raised high. Aware of the affect my acute outburst had, I lowered my fist. I saw the fear on the doctor’s face, and it suddenly seemed as if a million judging eyes were watching. I nearly tripped as I quickly backed away.

The door into the office suddenly burst open; it was David again, and he stared at us with a look of concern. “Is everything alright?”

The doctor nodded briskly, seemingly unable to say anything. His hands were shaky as he retrieved his glasses off the desk and put them on. He laboriously placed my test papers, which had been scattered by the outburst, back in his file.

“I don’t mean to disrupt your conference, but there’s something you’ll want to see, sir. This affects you too, Bart.” David walked over to the other side of the room where a small television set resided atop a moving stand. He turned it to one of the news stations.

“This just in: we have what appears to be a potential outbreak all across the nation and in other parts of the world. The first case of it is believed to be in Lazy Pines about a week ago today.”There was something strange about the news reporter, but I couldn’t find anything that supported my impression. “Anyone who has caught the virus so far has had the same outcome. They have been transformed into ponies.

“Everyone who has not been affected yet is encouraged to remain inside and exercise caution. Scientists are reported to be working around the clock to find preventative measures against the life-altering symptoms of the virus. They are additionally hoping to find a means of reversing the effects of the virus, but whether or not they will succeed remains to be seen.

“In just a moment, we will be broadcasting a live interview with Dr. Bill—” The channel cut out suddenly, leaving only static on the television.

After a moment of contemplation passed, Dr. Webster stood up and, looking quite disturbed, began heading for the office door. “My God. Just what the hell is that?”

“I don’t know sir, but it doesn’t look good.” David followed the doctor out of the door, and I was left to my own devices.

As I stared at the static on the television, I tried to parse the significance of it all. I could scarcely believe anything. There was no way that something this fantastical was anything more than a construction of my disturbed mind. I rolled my eyes and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind me.

Author's Note

I hope this to be the promising start of good story. I strive to make sure I do as best as I can so that my audience is pleased. I shall post updates as I can alongside a few other projects that I'm currently working on, and while I likely won't post this on a daily schedule, I will try to keep this to one to two updates per week. And if I fall behind on that, I want you to kick me in the proverbial butt to get a move on. :rainbowlaugh:

A couple of trivia facts about this story so far:

1: Dr. Webster's name was originally going to be Dr. Xavier, but one of my friends had pointed out that it might be perceived that I was ripping off X-Men.

2: The setting originally wasn't going to be in a mental institution, and Bart originally wasn't going to have a mental condition. This development in my design process didn't arise until I delved deeper into his character and his bonds and motivations. When I came to understood more of who he was and the kind of story I wanted to tell, this setting made the most sense.

Quarantine

The room in which I stayed remained elusive during my trek through the ward. I was pleased, however, to find the halls emptier than when I had visited the doctor. If it meant being spared of their judging eyes, I could go the rest of my life in solitude.

After turning another corner, my destination finally appeared to be in sight. The aroma of the white pine needles faintly wafted through my nose as I approached it. It reminded me of my countryside cabin not altogether far from here. The forested area stretched on for miles it wasn’t much, but it was at least a home.

“Maybe I can talk the doctor into discharging me,” I said aloud to myself, suddenly reminded that it was left unattended. “I bet those rascals are up there causing havoc in my absence… They’re always breaking things and trying to take my home away from me.”

I half expected the comment to elicit some kind of response from my self-conjured stalker, but there was nothing. This must have been one of those rare instances in which I was spared the bane of my affliction.

Then I reached the door to my room and found it slightly ajar. I could hear voices from inside, and I was curious to see if the orderlies were somehow making an unscheduled cleaning service in my quarters. I apprehensively peered through the crack to catch a look unnoticed.

I silently cursed to myself when I realized that I had once again been mistaken about where I had been headed. I was so sure this was the place. It was a small conference room instead. The participants evidently thought their conversation was sufficiently private.

Dr. Webster, along with one other doctor and three orderlies, were sitting around a conference table. I was sure David was among them, but I couldn’t quite make his face out from where I stood.

“And you’re sure the patients didn’t just have some flu?” Webster asked.

“The symptoms Jeff described to me yesterday were exactly the same, and now he's out sick this morning,” one of the orderlies said. “I haven't noticed anyone presenting the disease yet, so I think it’s safe to say, at least for the time being, that it’s isolated over in the west wing.”

A tense silence settled in the room for a moment. Webster shook his head and asked, “How did this even happen? We’re secluded, with minimal residents, in the middle of a countryside road. Some of our staff even stay here during their rotation. I don’t see how anyone would have had contact with the outside world.”

“About that…” I heard David say, “We had a new transfer here a few days ago by ship. They were from Charleston, South Carolina, I think.”

“That’s a long way from Maine.” Dr. Webster had a stern look fixated on the orderlies. I wondered if he somehow blamed all of this on them.

“I think,” the only other doctor in the room said, “what he's trying to say, Charles, and has been trying to say for the past half hour, is that even with all the odds stacked in our favor, there was simply no guaranteeing that we could have prevented something like this. I know you have a certain… affinity towards cleanliness, even for medical standards, but I think it’s time for us to take a step back from what might have been and instead focus on the situation at hand.”

He stopped himself short, faced the orderlies, and asked, “Have there been any known cases of fatalities yet?” When one of them shook his head, he turned back to Webster. “I think until we truly understand just what it is we’re up against, we should quarantine the infected and conduct research so as to develop a methodology for handling it and finding a treatment. As far fetched as it may be, there may yet be countering its effects if this is a virus.”

Dr. Webster stared at the table, rapping his fingers anxiously against the wooden surface. He grimaced and appeared to be conflicted by thought. He was so quiet when he spoke that I almost didn’t hear him. “I want everyone who’s already shown symptoms to be to be escorted to the west wing, where they shall remain. And for heaven’s sake, keep your distance at all costs. Now, I need a good, thorough rinsing!”

The members of the conference stood up and started making their way to the door. I pulled away from the door before they got the chance to catch me eavesdropping. My brisk pace soon became a frantic run.

There was no destination in mind, except perhaps someplace out of this death trap. I may not have understood much of their discussion, but one statement stood out to me crystal clear: infection. I should never have allowed my brother talk me into checking into this place. His trust in their ability to treat me was greatly misplaced.

“Yes,” said my other half, “you’ve finally come to your senses… It was foolhardy to depend on others. They misunderstand us. They act as if you for something wrong with us. Especially our brother. He’s the worst of them all.”

I wished I could turn the voices in my head off at will, but whether or not I asked for his company, as well as others, he came and went as he pleased. I didn’t always make out what they all said. Sometimes it was bits and pieces of random conversations that made no sense out of context. Other times it wasn’t comprehensible at all. Still other times, such as this one, I wondered if the voices only ever said what I believed deep down.

Trying not to ponder on this any longer, I made my way out to the facility entrance, where I stumbled across Monty by happenstance. He shuffled along at a lackadaisical pace, veering off course as if lost in thought. Once he took notice of me, he waved me over to him. I obliged, if only to warn him.

“I have a friend…” he said cryptically. “He told me about a funny-looking person. She’s got a wild hairdo and a tail like she’s straight outta the circus or something.” He snorted and clapped his hands together excitedly. “Want to go check her out?”

“I don’t think she’d much appreciate that.” I grabbed him by the arm. “And we shouldn’t stick around here any longer. It’s not safe.”

“What? Why ever not? The doctors here are real nice; they look after us.” Monty gave me a cheeky grin.

“I don’t really understand it myself, but there’s some kind of outbreak. She might be infected already, and she could pass it along to you too if you go.”

He had a puzzled look on his face as he tried to pry himself off me. “Infected? Like a virus or something? I’ve been sick before, but I got better, and she will too. We should go wish her well.”

I released my hold over him. I’ve done my due diligence by this point, and it was really none of my business if he wanted to get himself infected. “Fine, you go do that. I’m going to get the hell out of here.”

My feet carried me to the entrance before he could stop me. Just as pulled on the door handle, however, someone else placed their hand on my shoulder. I turned to find David standing there next to me.

“Sorry, Bart,” he said, “I can’t have you roaming the grounds any longer today. The doctors requested all patients return to their rooms for the time being. We’re going to make an announcement later today that concerns you. Right this way. You as well, Monty.”

Monty, seemingly having forgotten his adventures, eagerly bounded toward us. Once he was by our side, David escorted us back to our rooms. I complained the entire way, and the orderly offered quiet assurances at every turn.

I contemplated making a run for it, but I was restrained the last time I tried to escape. There was no other choice but to bide my time and wait until the opportunity for escape presented itself to me.

So it was there that I painfully found myself with nothing to do except to pace. I imagined the virus encroaching around on me from all sides, and if I didn’t act soon, it would be the end of me. With the orderlies patrolling these halls, though, I couldn’t act at all.

While I was there, my mind wandered to how the doctors managed to let this happen in the first place. If they took the necessary precautions, surely the infected wouldn’t have been allowed through. The only reason I could think of is if they somehow didn’t notice it.

Could she somehow hidden it out of embarrassment? She was surely unable to hide it now, but it would be possibly in the initial days of the disease. The implication that followed was frightening, as it suggested the rate of transformation was rapid.

My mind continued to fabricate convoluted possibilities one after the other. It wasn’t until a few hours later, when one of the orderlies came to retrieve me, that stopped contemplating over this surreal situation.

The orderlies took me, along with the other patients, to the cafeteria in an orderly fashion. When we got there, it was noticeably emptier than during mealtime. After being seated at the tables, I became distinctly aware of the growing banter from confused souls.

One patient across from me repeatedly struck the table with his fists and letting out wails. As the noise around us grew in intensity, so too did his anxiety. Eventually he, led him to break away from the table. He didn’t make it very far before one of the orderlies crashed into him.

The outburst only made those around me more anxious, and a few more looked ready to make a break for it. I was among those numbers; I felt claustrophobic, and while there may have only been twenty or so patients here, the noise made it feel ten times more.

“Can I have your attention?” Dr. Webster’s voice called out to everyone. The room suddenly fell into silence. “Thank you. That’s much better. As some of you may already know, we’re in a grave situation, and as much as I’d like to handle this behind closed doors, that’s simply not possible.

“What we have on our hands is an outbreak, right here in this very facility. Our staff is doing everything to ensure that this situation doesn’t go from bad to worse, but we cannot hope to achieve that without your cooperation. To try to minimize the spread, no one is allowed to enter the west wing. Therefore, anyone caught heading into that section must stay there until they’re told otherwise.”

Though I appreciated the doctor’s valiant efforts to control the issue, there was no way in hell this was ever going to work. Couldn’t the doctor see what we really needed was to flee? Anywhere but here was better.

Webster continued, “I won’t sugarcoat the severity of our predicament. The rate of transmission is very aggressive. So aggressive, in fact, that per regulations as stated by the CDC we are on full lockdown. The fact of the matter is, we may very well be infected already, and so evacuation is impossible. It’s most unfortunate, but these measures must be taken in light of the life-changes that the virus inflicts upon people. Changes that are so drastic that they threaten humanity itself.

“There is hope yet that we will get through this, and so I encourage us all to help guide each other in this time of need. That is all.” After Webster finished his speech, he didn’t waste any time leaving the cafeteria.

Once he was gone, the orderlies directed us into the hall in a file. They broke us off into groups and began taking us back to our quarters. We made more buzz the further we stepped away from the lunchroom, though our tones were more hushed than before the announcement. No one could really make sense of what was happening.

My group took us right past the front entrance. I stared at it out of longing; I wanted to walk out those doors now more than ever. They were so close, but they might as well be a million miles away.

Movement near the doors caught my attention. Someone else was fulfilling my dream of trying to make their great escape. I lost interest in the spectacle quickly, expecting its conclusion to be swiftly drawn.

A collective gasp dragged me back in. No one was moving to stop this person, and it took me a moment to realize why. I couldn’t make out much from where I was, but there was unmistakably a tail protruding from her tailbone. This must be the person responsible for our strife.

“It’s her!”

I turned my head to watch Monty jogging after the infected. I silently wished for the poor man to see reason, but my prayers went unheard as he continued his journey.

“You’re okay!” he yelled.

David launched himself into motion out of the corner of my eye. He sprinted across the room faster than I thought possible. Despite his best efforts, he still wasn’t quick enough to stop Monty.

By this point, the patient had taken notice of him as well. She looked just as frightened as the rest of us, though perhaps for very different reasons.

“Don’t worry. The doctors will take good care of us. You’ll see,” Monty said. He then raised his hand and patted her head.

Author's Note

With the release of this chapter, I think I have most of the pieces there to make this set of circumstances line up with the universe.

To summarize, we have an out of the way facility located in a low population density, which has the virus introduced primarily by one individual. I ran some calculations to make sure everything works, and I think it does. A ship traveling from SC to ME had an average speed of 11 knots. The calculation placed the time to destination at approximately three days, which (correct me if I'm wrong) is right around the time the symptoms first became noticeable... odd hairdo, change of eye color.

I believe there are two additional details about the infected person and reasoning behind travel and feasibility of her transfer that I shan't ignore. However, I will look for the right time to introduce those details naturally into the narrative. Regardless, I hope my explanations have been sufficiently addressed. :raritywink:

I had a ton of fun writing this chapter. I especially found Monty positively delightful. His innocence and simplistic outlook on life is something to be cherished.

Strain

The aftermath of Monty’s actions had the populous in an uproar. From the patients’ screams of panic to the swift actions by the orderlies, we had gone into defcon-5. Over the next few hours, people were sent to the west wing, even if they were only suspected of being infected.

It had truly become a witch hunt. By the following day, a makeshift wall had been erected out of mattresses, pillows, and tables to keep them out. Residents on the other side looked at it with resentment. Some even looked sullen, as if their lives were forfeit. Though it sickened me to watch from the ‘safe’ side of the wall, it seemed to have worked, at least for the time being.

A couple of chairs had been procured from the cafeteria and spaced apart evenly on our side of the border. I was currently seated in one next to David, whom was my only companion. He held a grim look upon his face from the moment he entered the hall and sat next to me. For a guy who always wore a smile, it somehow made him even more unbearable in a way that dwarfed my uneasiness with a judging crowd.

As we guarded the east wing, something I still didn’t know whether I liked or not, my eyes were trained on someone pacing on the other side of the hall. I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting her, but from the grown tail which swished back and forth, I recognized her as the culprit responsible for the mess we were in.

She noticed my stare and glared at me with impunity. No one was in a position to detain her in her quarters due to the circumstance, and so she was out here with the other infected. I supposed she was scheming a way to escape, but I couldn’t be sure.

“It sure is something, isn’t it?” David finally broke the silence with a whisper. “This is the kind of stuff you read about in science fiction.” When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “You ever read Twilight at the Towers? It was written by… What was his name, again? Clive Barker, that’s it.”

I shook my head. “What was it about?”

“On the surface, it was about monsters and transformations. Sound familiar?” David seemed to lose himself to contemplation for a moment. He ran his hand gently along a mattress in front of him. “In it, this idea of the ‘true self’ was discussed over and over again. It’s about werewolves, surely—” his eyes settled on the disgruntled looks from the people across the room “—but were they truly the monsters? Or was it the people who tried to suppress them?”

“Where are you getting at?” I asked.

“Never mind, it’s nothing.” David went back to sulking.

I stared back at the young woman. For a moment, I could have sworn she had the devil’s face, accompanied by mischievous tail and ears, but when I blinked, the sight was gone. My eyes must have played tricks on me again; still, it may not have been that far off.

I suddenly noticed that the cracked ground underneath her feet as she continued to pace. I found that unsettling; not for the first time I questioned whether what I was seeing was real or not. I asked, “Is the floor being damaged by that woman’s pacing?”

“It shouldn’t.” He then looked over to her. “Wait. You’re right. Is that even possible? Well, not much we can do about that now anyways.”

A thought suddenly manifested at the forefront of my mind by our makeshift fort and the unhappy faces across from us. I tried to block out its voice, but it demanded an answer. “How long will they stand idly on their side of the border?”

It wasn’t until moments later, when I was being relieved of my shift by somebody else, that David responded. “How long can we do the same?”

The next few hours went by in relative silence. I had trouble falling asleep; David’s words ran unendingly through my mind. Whatever was going through his head clearly made him conflicted. He held sympathy for those trapped within the east wing, perhaps even the person responsible for spreading the disease to this facility. If he held any convictions beyond that, however, I couldn’t see them.

I turned over in my bed, and as I laid there staring up at the ceiling, my mind drifted like the waves in the sea. My thoughts drifted erratically some of the time. There was the occasional lull as well, when it was almost peaceful. The uncertainty was always present however, feeding into anxiety the more I tried to face my problem.

The woman unexpectedly found her way into my thoughts as I tried to calm myself. From her personality to her condition, she was a mystery. What were the circumstances which brought her here? I imagined she even had a family who worried over her.

It was easy to blame her for everything, but if Monty was friendly with her and David expressed doubt, then perhaps there was more to her than the unadulterated anger she had worn the rest of that afternoon. I wasn’t eager to socialize with her and find out, but I could find solace in that she wasn’t the source of my problem after all.

The fact of the matter remained, however, that I was trapped. We all were, in one way or another, but my hardship felt especially daunting to me. If I applied myself, I might find a solution to our predicament only to discover this event turned out to be some twisted delusion I conjured the entire time.

The only other recourse left was to wait this out, as if that would magically solve everything. I was so used the snide remarks made by my other self, or whatever he was, that I felt hollow when they didn’t come. He may have always been negative, but at least he provided me direction. Now, I didn’t even have that.

My sheets fell away as I jumped up in frustration. So much for having a good night’s rest. If I was being realistic, though, everyone else was probably having just as difficult, if not more so, of a time sleeping. I rubbed my eyes absentmindedly and then glanced over to a clock which hung over the only door in my room. It read two o’clock in the morning; I wouldn’t get much rest tonight indeed.

Setting aside the thought of sleep, I got dressed and exited my room. There wasn’t really a destination in mind. The walls were empty enough as it was during the daytime, but at night it seemed practically deserted.

My feet eventually brought me to a common room at the far end of the hall. Because I had spent as little time as possible in the presence of others, I wasn’t sure what to expect inside. I was caught by a sudden intrigue to explore it, so I peered inside. It was about what I expected to find. There was an open sitting area with a few tables for the residents to gather around, and on the other side of it, in the corner of the room, was a small library replete with books and board games.

The only other occupants of the room were two men seated not too far from me. They paid no attention to me as I entered, their entire focus remaining on a game of chess that was situated between them. Since they were totally engrossed with it, I gave their table a wide breadth so as to avoid bothering them.

When I reached their library, which was only comprised of a few cubbies, I stared at the catalogue, searching lackadaisically for any titles that grabbed my attention.

As my eyes trailed over the covers, I wondered if any of them had the power to whisk me away. I pulled one out, opened to the first page, and glossed over its contents. I understood the written words, but I couldn’t really process what they meant. I gave up with a tired sigh; it was just another story I had to put down before I had even begun.

“You lookin’ for a good book?”

A short woman stepped into my periphery. A baggy jacket masked her frame, and the long hair cascading down her face made it difficult for me to identify her as well. When she kneeled down to retrieve something from one of the cubbies, she had to pull her sleeves away from her hands in order to get a better grip of it.

“You seem out of sorts. I generally find the best books are the ones that hit closest to home.” She offered one to me. “Here, try this one.”

“I didn’t see you come in,” I said. I glanced around the room as if it would give me an indication of where she had come from.

“Yeah, I usually prefer to be alone, so I tucked myself away from prying eyes.”

It was only after she statement that I noticed her shying away from me. She pointedly faced the ground as she handed the book to me. I opened it hesitantly, as I had with the previous one, with a striking interest. The possibilities of what her recommendation entailed were endless. I was rewarded with a befuddling riddle. The pages were all blank.

“Why did you hand this to me?” When I turned to face her, however, she was no longer next to me. The only sign she had ever been in the room was the book I held in my hand. Its texture felt as real to me as anything else, and as I stared back down at it, I wondered if I had somehow conjured her in my mind.

A growing sense of dread began building inside. If that was the case, if I couldn’t even tell who was real and who wasn’t, then what chance did I have of piecing together any semblance of order in the midst of this outbreak?

My life was in shambles, and there was nothing I could do to change that. I flung the book into the shelf with a furious cry. A number of them toppled over, and when that wasn’t enough, I wrenched the entire shelf away from the wall.

Everything went flying, which elicited frightened shouts from across the room. I didn’t care for the chess game that I had undoubtedly interrupted, however, so I paid them no mind.

I sprinted out into the halls and made a beeline for my room. Once I reached it, I slammed the door behind me and didn’t come out even after the sun rose.

Quite some time had passed. I had lost track of how long I spent in my room, but it was long enough to alert the staff. When an orderly couldn’t rouse me, with soothing words alone, from my quarters so that I could eat, that caused them worry.

I had refused the first two meals offered to me. I told them I wasn’t hungry, but the truth of the matter was I couldn’t deal with anyone. My stomach growled in protest, but it was ignored.

My stubbornness awarded me a greeting from David after a while. He knocked on the door late in the afternoon and then greeted me. “I hear you’ve not been eating.”

“Please, I’m not in the mood.” My words somehow felt hollow even as I said them. I had no reason to believe David would be dissuaded by them. In order to avoid showing any signs of weakness, I laid stock still with my eyes trained at the wall.

“You might feel in the mood to eat once you tell me what’s wrong, then.” I heard David approach the bed and sat down by my feet. “You have plenty of time to talk about it.”

“Oh no, I see what you’re doing. This is the part where you manipulate me into letting you in. Trust me, this is nothing that needs to concern you.” After a moment of silence, in which I felt awkward under his prying gaze, I added, “I’ll feel up to eating tomorrow.”

“Even if we already have a steaming hot plate waiting for you?” David asked doubtfully. “Come tomorrow, it won’t be as fresh.”

It wasn’t until then that I finally turned to face him. “You can give it to someone who hasn’t already eaten then. I’m sure there’s plenty of hungry souls. Maybe someone over in the west wing will want it.”

Upon hearing my suggestion, David’s expression darkened. He retreated to the door with a slump in his shoulders. His hand found purchase on the frame once he was there, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped it.

When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “What is it?”

“It’s nothing that should be of any concern to a patient.” He brightened afterward, as if he didn’t just become broody. “Are you sure you don’t want any food right now?”

“I’m sure,” I said dryly. “I’ll feel up to eating tomorrow, I assure you.”

“Tell you what then.” He paused for a moment of contemplation to eye something, presumably the plate of food he tried to offer, in the hall. “I’ll take your food away and ask the other orderlies not to bother you the rest of the evening. But only if you promise to let me know what’s eating at you in the morning.”

“Fine.” I relented. “I could use an evening of silence for a change.” I readjusted myself so that I was covered by the bedsheets. I felt a sense of pride as I closed my eyes. There wasn’t much I could control nowadays, but I was satisfied in knowing that I still had control over this.

On his way out, David said, “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

I was awoken later that evening by yelling. I tried tuning it out and returning to sleep, but there were no signs of it dying down. By the time I resolved myself to investigate it, I was already too awake to ignore it.

When I peered out of my room, I realized I wasn’t the only one that had been disturbed. I saw nearly about a dozen confused people fascinated by the spectacle. A few of them clung to their doors, shuddering and unsure if they should cover their ears or withdraw back into their quarters.

Down at the end of the hall, before our improvised fort, were David and Dr. Webster in a heated argument. David seemed to be in a frenzy. Gone were his cordial sentiments as he shoved the doctor menacingly.

“You treat them as monsters!”

Dr. Webster gaped at the accusation. He shook his head, dumbfounded. “That is preposterous!”

“Preposterous, he says,” David grumbled before turning away. There was a collective gasp when David stepped up onto one of the mattresses that made up the fort.

“Please, think about what you’re doing.”

David scanned the halls, making no effort at hiding contempt for the Doctor in his announcement. “I could say the same for you, but you seem to have lost all sense of reason after just a single day. Go on, tell them how you plan to abandon everyone on the other side.”

“Be reasonable,” Webster said. “There’s no telling how long we’re going to be in this mess. We have to prepare for the worst.”

The orderly merely scoffed. “This is how you justify starving out half of our residents? ‘Prepare for the worst.’ Since when did this become so dire that we can’t spare even a single plate of food for them? I’d love to know.”

“I’m... not the enemy here.” Webster was only just audible enough for me to hear the desperation in his voice. Whatever the full picture may have been, this was surely not the reaction he’d anticipated. Then again, none of us foresaw David behaving in this manner.

“Then tell me who is, because from where I’m standing, it’s hard to see it any other way.”

“No one is.” Dr. Webster clenched his trembling hands. “We’re holding things together by a single thread. I-I’m just doing what I think is best for us.”

David halted his verbal assault to process the doctor’s statement. When he finally spoke, it was with the passion of someone who was committed to his cause. “I’m doing what I think is best as well, Doc. Now if you’ll excuse me, the residents in the other wing need my aid.”

Dr. Webster reached out for David. “There’s no turning back from this, David. The virus could kill you.”

The orderly recoiled from the doctor’s hand. Without listening to another word, David crossed the final threshold and entered the west wing.

Author's Note

I think I should start a record of the relative timeline of everything for convenience.

As of the end of this chapter, we'd be in...

Day 7 of the General Outbreak.
Day 7 of the woman being infected.
Day 3 of her stay at Saint Junivus.

I think it'd be either Day 2 or 3 of some patients'/orderlies' infections, depending on the duration of their flu.

Interesting fact:

David originally wasn't going to play this important of a role in the narrative. He was originally going to be this person whom Bart could look to for support through this tumultuous time. After mulling over this for a time, it made much more sense that David would be affected by Dr. Webster's decision. It gave him more depth as a character, and I feel it gives the narrative a whole other dynamic to the thematic concept I've developed.
I was going to wait to trigger the final scene for another chapter or two, and there were two ideas that played into advancing this scene. The first being that I didn't feel the comfort scene was strong enough of a focal point to end the chapter on. I might have been able to end it at the common room, but I didn't feel it was enough to drive home the sense of everyone feeling trapped that I wanted. Additionally, by moving this up, I am allowing myself more time to focus on one other aspect as we begin heading into the main act of the story. I feel this is a nice tradeoff to the foreshadowing I would have otherwise ended this chapter on.

Over the Edge

The next few hours of my solitude were spent in deep contemplation. The knowledge of my doctor’s decision, no matter how well intended, could have grave consequences for the rest of us. The infected already seemed upset, for very good reason, and David’s voice gave them direction.

With my safety in jeopardy, I needed to direct my frustrations right at the source. My route to his office didn’t take as long this time around. When I got there, I tried knocking on the door, but I hesitated.

Even if this was just a colossal mistake, what could anyone do about it now? The damage was done, and if I was being honest with myself, I might’ve done the same.

“We’re wasting our time,” my other self said. “We should just go back to the room. It’s the only safe place for us now.”

“This isn’t helping.” The hall around me suddenly seemed so small and warm. “I need answers. I need to know if we’ll be protected.”

“Of course this is helping. You’re the one that’s clung onto me all these years, remember? This is what you wanted. Someone there for you to talk to. Someone who can protect whatever meager existence you call life.”

“No!” The room spun was spinning by now. “Go away!”

All traces of him seemed to vanish. It was strange how I had been missing him not that long ago. Then I heard him say, almost in a whisper, “You’ll come back to me soon enough. You always do.”

Not this time, I wanted to say, but the words never left my tongue. I didn’t know if I could hold myself to that promise. It was so easy to give up, to just lock myself away and let life move on without me. Maybe then I wouldn’t be such a burden to others.

That was the whole reason I allowed my brother to talk me into being admitted into the psychiatric ward in the first place. It was in this way that I, a self-proclaimed writer who’d never even written a day in his life, could stop bothering him with my troubles. That my insistence to handle my affairs myself never meant truly anything. I’d given up and utterly dissociated myself from the world around me.

I held back a sob, but only just barely. My desire for control was a fleeting wish and nothing more. If I relied on others to help me through it, not only would it put a strain on them, I would relinquish what little control I had. There was no winning this accursed affliction.

“Bart?” Webster’s voice pulled me away from my inner demons. My outburst must have roused him to investigate because he had a worried look upon his face. “Did you need to come in and talk for a bit?”

“Not really. I mean, I don’t know. I guess.” Where was I even going with this? This was pointless.

After a moment of consideration, Webster nodded and stepped aside to let me in. “Have a seat in my office. We can discuss whatever’s on your mind.”

Once the door was closed behind us, all I wanted to do was get back up and walk out of there. I twiddled my thumbs and looked around the room, anywhere but at him as he sat back down.

“Have you reconsidered the electroconvulsive therapy treatment? I know you weren’t ecstatic about it the last time you left my office, and a lot has been on our minds with everything that’s been happening as of late.”

Dr. Webster seemed elsewhere even as he spoke. He typed away on a computer stationed at his desk. After a moment, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.

“My answer is still no,” I said. “That’s not why I came here. I needed to know if David was telling the truth the other day.”

“Ya-huh. I suppose there’s no changing your mind then.” The doctor’s voice was almost inaudible as he typed something into his computer. He then ran a hand through his hair and sighed irritably. “My apologies, but my mind is elsewhere at the moment. It’s nothing that you should be troubled about.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “This problem isn’t yours alone. It affects me, too. Of course I’d troubled by it!”

Webster gave a heavy sigh. When he spoke, his tone was grave. “Bart, I don’t know the best way to put it. In light of recent events, we here at Saint Junivus may not be able to handle your treatment for much longer. No need to worry, however, as you’ll remain in good hands at another facility with more suitable arrangements that meet your needs.”

“What did you say?” He sounded as if he was abandoning myself and the rest of the patients. It sounded dangerous to transport everyone, too. There was no telling where else they might encounter the infection.

“I said, ‘In spite of recent events, I will continue to provide treatment to the best of my abilities here at Saint Junivus, so no need to worry.’”

“What about going to another institution?” I asked.

“What are you talking about?” Webster was taken aback by my question as if he hadn’t brought it up himself mere moments ago. “Admittedly, our staff discussed the option of relocation earlier, but we’ll have to wait and see how things turn about before making any rash decisions.”

That wasn’t at all what I heard him say before, but I was quickly losing my patience. This wasn’t getting us anywhere. It was as if we were having two different conversations.

I scarcely remembered sitting down, but I leaped out of the chair across from him and glided over to the door. I didn’t know what I expected from him, but it wasn’t this.

“Bart,” he called out, “was there anything else on your mind?”

I stopped in my tracks, my fingers lightly resting on the handle. Against my better judgment, I chanced a look back at him. “Do you have any plans at all?”

“We’ll do what we can to limit the contamination spread.” Webster took his glasses off and placed them and his fingers on the table. “Please, don’t worry about it too much. It does you no good.”

“I. Can’t. Stop. Worrying.” I gripped tightly onto the knob, only now noticing that my hands were trembling. “What will become of them?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured after a while. There was a sense of hopelessness in his voice, and when he sat back down in his chair, he put his face in his hands. “I truly don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Was David telling the truth before?” I gritted my teeth, holding onto the chance that he’d finally start making sense.

“As far as I know, there haven’t been any reported cases of death. At least not yet. If we manage to get our next shipment of food, we might be able to hold out a little longer.” Webster had a befuddled look on his face.

He either didn’t understand me or chose not to answer the one question that brought me here. I was already out of the office when I shouted over my shoulder, “That settles that. If you won’t answer me, I’ll be on my way.”

“Answer what?”

I stopped and looked back at him. “Really? You totally ignored my question about David’s statement, about how everyone in the west wing is going to starve. Does that not bother you at all?”

“David...” Webster appeared as though he were gaping and at a loss for words. Then, slowly, he said, “Bart, you never mentioned anything about David.”

So he hadn’t heard me at all? Did I only imagine myself asking? No, it didn’t matter. My other self had been right. This was a complete and utter waste of time.

Dr. Webster tried to call me back into his office, but I tuned him out. He was no saner than the rest of the asylum. Yet he was leading our people. The ship was without its captain.

The trek back to my room was rife with wrong turns and more questions then I cared to have answered. Whatever possessed Dr. Webster to abandon the west wing, there wasn’t anything more I could do that David wasn’t already handling. At this point, I just wanted to lay in bed and never wake up again.

Some of the residents hung out within the halls along the way. Whether they walked aimlessly or laid against the walls restlessly, most of them had despondent looks on their faces. The ones who were lost in their own worlds seemed to be the happiest of all.

“Are you ready to hand the reins over to me?” It was my other self again. I could practically hear the smug smile on his face. “You know you want to. This is too much for one person to deal with.”

The ground became quite interesting to look at as my saunter evolved into a brisk stride. I’d never give in to the temptation. I could fight this. I hoped.

A buzz echoed through my head when I reached my room at last. I was plagued with a splitting migraine within seconds. Once I was inside and leaning on my door, its wooden surface was cool and soothing against my back.

“If you give in, I’ll make it all go away. The doctors, the institution, the disease. All of it.” His words were enticing, but oh so dangerous.

“No. I refuse!” I paced to the center of the room, stumbling over my footing.

“Look into your heart. You know this is the only answer.” The voice resonated through the chamber, its fact hard to denounce. “The walls close in around us as you stand idly by. No one else but I can stand at your side and protect you from the infection.”

The declaration stopped me in my tracks. My room spun around me for a moment. It was meagerly furnished: a bed, a small drawer, and a desk tucked away in the corner. This was the way every room in the ward looked before any tenants moved in. They allowed personal effects to be brought in, provided it was within their policy, but it suited me just fine already.

I did bring in one of my personal belongings, though. As I tried to get my bearings, my eyes landed on a vanity mirror that hung off the wall. It was supposed to serve as a reminder that I still had some semblance of control within this twisted world. That because I existed, there was some action I could take to achieve my heart’s desires. I could proudly raise my arms and clench my fists. Or, just as easily, draw blood from my skin and watch it trickle down my appendage.

I couldn’t bear to look at it now, though. A wave of seemingly insurmountable regret tore at me. I had deviated from a tried and tested way of living on the false hope for something more. In the end, I couldn’t help anyone anymore than I could myself. I didn’t want the desire to take my other self’s offer. But I had it nonetheless.

A commotion from outside pulled me away from my brooding. I peered into the halls to see a number of tenants looking down the corridor in anticipation. Some of them had a look of shock on their faces, while others were spurred into motion by their curiosity.

“Something’s happening down at the entrance. Not sure what it is, though.” A man had told me when I asked about the disturbance.

Had it claimed someone’s life after all? Despite my worst fears, my feet took me in the direction of the main halls. I had to know what might be in store for me.

I was joined by two others as we crept forward. One of them was a man with a stocky build and a scraggly beard. When he briefly turned to me as he passed, I noticed the lazy eye from his stare and the prominent limp in his gate, which didn’t seem to slow him down in the slightest. Instead, he was as lively as the next person, scowling at everything like a man who hated the world.

The other looked little more than a boy who barely broke five feet tall. He trailed behind the rest of the pack, and he was skittish of every movement he saw, though he tried not to make it apparent.

As we reached the main entrance, a feeling of trepidation overcame me. Something didn’t sit well with me about the whole situation, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. One person rounded the corner and came running up to us.

Then, another. And another until a small mass of residents were running, all in the same direction. The cause for alarm didn’t make itself apparent until the sight of pursuers were seen not far behind, all of which were in various stages of the disease. David was among them, leading the pack.

“This way to the kitchen! That’s where they’re storing their food,” he yelled.

It sounded almost like a war cry from the way they were invigorated. Some of them, those that were further along in their transformation, tripped up in their excitement and stumbled onto the floor. Others pushed past to replace those that had fallen.

Those closer to the entrance were unfortunate, for they were swallowed up by the advancing mass. As soon as we saw it coming, my two quiet companions and I fled down the way we came. Still, it took us time to react, and in that time they closed the distance on us.

The scrawny man, who had been behind us from the start, had immediately darted ahead of us. It didn’t take long, however, for us to catch up to him. He was gasping for breath by the time we reached him.

Something in the other man’s grumbles prompted me to glance over my shoulder. They were only an arm’s length away from us. Far too close for comfort; it may have been enough to infect me for all I know.

I tried to focus only on what’s ahead of me, on the fact that my room wasn’t that far now. The others seemed intent on doing the same thing; it was every man for himself.

Then, the older fellow did something drastic. He frantically grabbed a hold of the person between us and flung him into the crowd and slowing them down. I watched him disappear, feeling sorry but not knowing what to do about it. That was taking things too far.

“It bought us time, didn’t it?” the guy asked after noticing my judging look.

If we weren’t in the midst of a chase, I might have called him out on it. There was no way I was going to stop him now, though, with our lives on the line. The damage had already been done.

Relief washed over me when I had reached the door to my room at long last. I fiddled with the knob in a hurry to get inside, and in the span of a second, the crowd was upon us.

I threw open the door and leaped through the air. As I crossed over from the hall into my quarters, I felt something jostle against my leg. My body slammed into the ground stomach first, and I struck the door with my foot as soon as I was on my back.

The door shut. I scrambled off the floor and pressed my back against it. Even as I did, I knew it didn’t matter anymore. I was infected. Maybe I was infected before this even happened, and all the running we just did was pointless.

A sudden thought crossed my mind. When was the last time I looked in the mirror?

Tentatively, I stepped away from my post at my room’s entrance and walked over to see my reflection. I swallowed, feeling dryness in my throat. My heart pounded. I didn’t want to look. I couldn’t look. In spite of myself, my legs drew me closer to it as to a magnet. An eternity passed. But that wasn’t long enough.

Eventually, I was staring at my reflection. Nothing jumped out to me, but I could hardly focus anyway. It’s not there, I thought to myself, at least not yet.

The stress was eating away at me. I ran a hand through my hair to calm myself down. I don’t have it, I repeated. I’m still alright.

Then, as I continued combing my hair, a lock of hair was brushed aside to reveal something colorful. It was nestled behind my more natural hair, and there wasn’t so much that it stuck out. It would have been almost impossible for anyone to spot if they weren’t looking for it. But it was there.

I was infected.

One way or another, I was destined to the same fate as the others. I should have been prepared for this eventuality, but it was still hard to take in regardless. What would become of my life?

“The offer still stands,” said my other self. “I’ll take all of this away from you. All you need to do is say the word.”

“Okay.” There was no hesitation in my voice this time. “I surrender.”

Author's Note

Whoops. It's been a minute since I updated this last. :pinkiecrazy: