I come to some time later in the passenger's seat of a car. I have no idea how I got here, but my bleary eyes don't deceive me. What is going on? I expect to see Neil at the wheel, but it's...Fabian? He's taking a swig of something from a brown bottle with one hand on the steering wheel.
"F-Fabian?" I croak out, trying to sit up. I immediately quit because my head feels like lead. I squint at him, lifting up a hand to rub my eyes. His eyes are green like Neil's, but brighter.
"Morning sunshine," he says with a smirk, taking another swig.
I groan. "How...how do you? What...happened? I..."
"Don't worry," Fabian says gently. "I've been tracking you and Neil for days. I found you just in time. Man, you guys have really taken a beating."
"The Stalker..." I mumble.
"Dead. Larry and I took care of it," he tells me. "Everything's going to be okay now."
"Neil-"
"Is fine," Fabian finishes for me. "And so is Dawn. They're both in the back with Larry."
"He's okay?" Gathering my bearings, I finally manage to sit up. My ankle aches.
"Unconscious, but fine. Larry is patching him up, don't worry. I told you, everything is fine," Fabian assures me for the third time. He takes another swig from his bottle.
Groaning, I slump my head against the headrest. "You know, it's against the law to drink and drive..."
Fabian busts open laughing. "What laws? There aren't any more laws."
He offers me a sideways glance, smirking. "I see you've been taking good care of my jacket. You like it?"
I roll my eyes, feeling irritated. "Yeah, it's fine."
I stare at the bottle in his hand. I'm guessing it's beer because really, what else would Fabian be drinking? Water? It's at this moment that I realize I've never really tried any alcoholic drink before. Mom never bought any, and I never attended any parties where beer was available. Fabian notices me staring at the bottle in his hand, and he silently offers it to me. Tentatively, I take it. Raising the bottle to my lips, I take an experimental sip. It's bitter, but somehow I actually don't mind how it tastes. Oddly, I rather like it. Tipping the bottle up further, I take a huge gulp, letting the bitter liquid burn the back of my throat as it goes down. Fabian laughs from the driver's seat, and then snatches the bottle out of my hand. I reluctantly relinquish it, glaring at him as I wipe my lips.
"Better let me have this back before you turn into an alcoholic," he teases, smirking at me as he takes another swig. Where did he even get the beer? Also, I want more of it considering it numbs the pain in my ankle.
"How's Neil doing back there, Larry?" Fabian asks him, glancing in the rear view mirror.
"He's still unconscious, but I stopped the bleeding in his arm. He should be alright, it wasn't a deep cut," says Larry from the backseat.
"Where exactly are we going?" I ask Fabian, looking at him.
"I have a camp not far from here. But I don't think this van is going to hold up too much longer." He checks the fuel gauge. "Yeah, gas is running out."
We're in a van? I didn't realize. I've been so out of it I haven't really paid much attention to my surroundings. I'm still not too sure if this is a dream or not. Maybe I'm still unconscious outside of that house where that Stalker was, and I'm just having a dream that I was rescued.
"This has to be a dream," I sigh, rubbing my forehead.
"This ain't a dream, sweetheart," Fabian says. "This is real. You're awake, trust me."
"How do you know?"
"Because if you're dreaming...then so am I." Fabian gazes distantly out the windshield, and shortly, the van sputters and the engine dies.
"What now?" Worry once again raises its ugly head inside of my being.
"We walk." He opens the door.
"But Fabian, I can't walk! My ankle is sprained!"
He ignores me. "Larry, wake him up!"
"What about me?"
With a wordless stare, Fabian shuts the door and walks around to the passenger's side. He opens it up, now in front of me. "Can you stand?"
I gulp, blinking. "What are you...gonna do?"
Frustrated, he runs a hand through his blonde hair. "I'm gonna carry you, what do you think?"
I shake my head, scrunching myself further into the seat. "Oh no, you're not carrying me."
Fabian holds his arms out, exasperated. "Do you see anyone else?"
"Let Neil do it." I do not want him to carry me.
"Neil is injured. Come on sweetheart, let's go." He reaches for me, but I back away.
"Let Larry do it!"
"Larry is an old man. Sorry, but you're probably too heavy for him," says Fabian.
"Why do you have to carry me?" I cringe.
Fabian smirks. "What? You think I got cooties or something? I won't bite, if that's what you're worried about."
"No...look, I can walk on my own!" I insist.
"No, you most certainly cannot," he disagrees. "Come on, we don't have time for this. Don't make me drag you out of this car."
I glare at him. "Don't touch me."
He quirks an eyebrow. "You do realize that I'm the one who carried you away from the house, right?"
My skin crawls. I can't believe he's already touched me...ugh, I can't express it in words for some reason, but Fabian just bothers me. He makes me feel...bristly. "Well, I didn't have a choice then. I was unconscious."
He scoffs. "You don't really have a choice now. Are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?"
"Alright, fine! Let's just get this over with," I grumble.
"Good choice." Fabian reaches in and slips his arms underneath me. Reluctantly, I put my arms around his neck, turning my head away from him. He carefully lifts me up and out of the car, grunting slightly.
"What? Am I too heavy for you?" I snap, turning to face him. I instantly regret it because his face is very close to mine. Mere inches apart.
He smiles at me. "On the contrary, sweetheart. You're lighter than a feather."
I sneer. "Just so we're clear...I don't like you."
Fabian just grins. "Noted."
Facing forward, I try not to focus on our bodily contact. It's a bit hard however, considering he's actually pretty warm and...are those muscles I feel under his shirt? And where exactly are his hands? One's up near my rib cage, quite close to my right breast, and his other hand is near my thigh. My face heats up much to my chagrin. I hate this so, so much. I can't wait until we reach the camp. This is going to be a long walk.
POV: Dr. Phelps
Something is wrong. Something is wrong. I've felt this way for the past week or so, ever since...I don't know. But that was when I felt it. Something happened. Was it the portal? Did it close? Or did something else come through? I'm not sure what's going on, but there is something amiss.
This world is driving me insane. I'm surprised I've survived this long. The zombies, these monsters...they are evolving. This is not good. The further they evolve, the worse we'll be. But how are they evolving, and why so rapidly? I've studied them, researched to no end, but I haven't found anything. I wish I could have stopped this. If I had only been a bit stronger back then, a little smarter...it's all his fault. I should have done more to stop him, but I didn't. If only I could go back in time...but it wouldn't make any difference, the portal is lost to me now.
But it's too late. History is already about to repeat itself. I have to find the cure no matter what. No matter how long it takes. But I'm close to finding it. So close. I won't give up. I have to reverse this virus. I have to stop it.
POV: Detective Kennedy
I've taken a lot of Mrs. Tyson's husband's files home with me and I've been studying them tirelessly. A majority of it is hard to read because the words are so faded, but with diligence and modern technology, I've been able to make out quite a bit. So far, I've been able to piece together some of the workings of Altan Tyson's coworker, Keith Jacobs. Not only was Mr. Tyson's research within the files, but Keith's as well. His is the most interesting, I must say.
In Jacobs' research, he frequently mentions a virus. In his notes, he never mentions his coworker Tyson, even though the two appeared to be working together on something else. From what I gather, they were researching time travel. But the virus is never mentioned. Were they not researching that together? Did Tyson not know about this virus Keith was researching? I'm not sure what this virus is, but here are some of his notes that I have gathered:
"Affects main nervous system. Highly contagious. There are three stages. The first stage begins with a fever, which leads to nausea and potential vomiting. Hallucinations may also occur leading up to the second stage. The second stage begins with amnesia, followed by intense night terrors. Then the hunger starts. So far, each subject always becomes ravenously hungry during this time. But I have observed that no matter what kind of food I give them, it is not enough to satiate their hunger. Only one thing seems to satisfy them; human flesh.
The third stage begins with severe loss of faculties, increased uncontrollable appetite and behavior, erratic and growing intensely violent. The wind down begins, where they fall into a sort of stupor. Eyes become bloodshot at this point as the skin begins to grow increasingly pale. Increased heart rate, heavy, rapid and labored breathing. Death soon follows after this. Minutes to hours later, depending on the person, infected is revived into a dead, flesh-eating monster. Most commonly known as..a zombie."
"What?" I exclaim out loud, standing up. Did Keith know what was going to happen? I'm not sure about the stages, but the last part about the zombie seems to relate directly to what's going on right now. Maybe...that's it. Keith and Altan were studying time travel. Maybe Keith discovered this virus was going to happen and was trying to prevent it! It makes sense. But that doesn't answer how or why they both went missing. Or does it? What if something went wrong? Is it possible that the two of them got lost in time? I have to know more. I have to keep deciphering his files. There's more to this, I know it.
The siren of an ambulance and multiple police cars screeches from outside, sounding very close by. Just then, my cell phone rings, buzzing urgently in my pocket. Without looking at the caller ID, I answer it.
"Kennedy," I say sharply.
"Thank God," a familiar voice breathes out on the other end.
"Meg? Is that you?" I ask, standing up.
"Kennedy, I need your help," she whispers. "I think...I think something's in my house."
Grabbing my gun, I head for the door immediately. "Where are you?"
"Upstairs, in Carol's room." She sniffles. "I've locked myself in."
"Listen to me," I say firmly. "Do not move. Stay right where you are. I am on my way."
"The person...they're like officer Nicholson," Meg whimpers. "Kennedy, I'm so scared, please hurry!"
I throw on my brown coat as I sprint out of the door towards my car. "Do not panic. Remain calm. Do you have a weapon? Anything you can use to defend yourself in case you have to engage the target?"
I hear heavy breathing, followed by some shuffling around and then quiet. "Yes, I have something."
"Good. Now, like I said. Do not leave the room unless it's absolutely
necessary. I am on my way. Will you be alright if I hang up?" I ask her gently.
"I'll be fine. But please hurry." And with a click, she's gone.
When I arrive at her house, the street is dead quiet. The lack of people is what really disturbs me. There's no one around, and I can hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance. Splotches of red stain the concrete, and there's the faint but strong smell of something rotting. Gripping my pistol, I cautiously walk up to Mrs. Tyson's door. Before going in, I lean close to the door and listen. Seconds pass, but I hear nothing. Taking a deep breath, I enter, swinging the door open and shutting it behind me.
"Mrs. Tyson?" I call out. No response. "This is Detective Kennedy."
The house appears to be empty. But I hear shuffling, like something moving. I proceed into the living room, where I step on the bloodstain residue from Nicholson. After determining that the living room is clear, I head upstairs where I identify the problem. A strange figure is standing by the doorway to Carol's room, shoulders slumped. Their hand is on the doorknob, turning it back and forth, but the door won't open. It's standing with its mouth agape, eyes milky white and dead. The stench of decay fills my nose, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge.
"Hey!" I shout, getting its attention. I raise my gun, flicking the safety off. Its hand falls from the knob and it turns to face me. Mouth hanging open, it moans at me.
So. A zombie, just like his files said. That's what's happening. That explains the man in the police station and Officer Nicholson. Scowling, I shoot it once in the forehead. It lets out a dying groan, and falls face first onto the floor, dead. Blood leaks from the wound and onto the floor. Stepping over the body, I pound on the door.
"Meg? It's Kennedy. Are you alright?" I ask. There isn't a response. Instead I hear shuffling feet, rapid breathing and then the door knob wiggles. The door flings open, revealing a very frazzled and distraught Mrs. Tyson, holding a pair of sharp scissors. Upon seeing me, she drops them and they clatter to the floor. Tears streaming down her red and splotchy cheeks, she throws her arms around me and hugs me, stifling her sobs into my jacket.
"Oof," I breathe out, the wind knocked out of me from her impact. Clearing my throat, I awkwardly pat her back. "It's okay. You're okay."
"I was so scared," she says into my jacket, voice muffled. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Yes, you're safe now, Mrs. Tyson," I tell her gently. I carefully pull her back, taking her by the shoulders. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
"No," she whimpers, staring up at me with red, puffy eyes.
"Did it attack you?" I tilt her head back and forth, checking for any cuts, bruises or scrapes on her neck and face.
She shakes her head. "No. I just ran in here as soon as I saw it."
"How did it get in?"
"It just...walked right in through the front door. Turned the knob and walked right in. Kennedy, what are these things?" Meg clutches the collar of my jacket, craning her neck to stare directly into my eyes.
"I've been reading over Keith's notes. He talked frequently about a virus, and he called them...zombies. Everyone's turning into zombies, Meg," I tell her.
"Oh God..." she moans, resting her head against my chest. "My poor Carol, where could she have gone?"
"I don't know," I say with a sigh. "But it must have something to do with the portal your husband keeps mentioning in his notes."
"I'm sorry, I just need to..." Meg mutters, wrapping her arms around me again. She snuggles her head into my chest, sniffling. "Just for a little while."
"Um..." I'm not so good at comforting people. I don't know what to do. Awkwardly, I wrap my arms around her small frame, relaxing into her embrace. I rest my head on top of hers, my nose in her blonde hair. It's very light and curly. It smells like cinnamon apples. Quite pleasant.
"Everything's okay now," I whisper to her, trying my best to sound comforting. "I'll protect you."
I'm not sure how long we stay like this, but several minutes pass without either of us moving a muscle. After several long moments, Meg's breathing finally returns to normal, even and slow. Then she slowly pulls away, clearing her throat. She steps back from me, a sheepish expression on her face, cheeks red. She hugs herself, trembling.
"I'm sorry, I just uh...got a little emotional," she says quietly, looking down at the floor.
"It's alright," I assure her. "It's perfectly normal to feel scared."
"With what's going on out there...I really hope Carol's alright. I just want her to be safe," Meg says, tears welling in her eyes again.
"We are going to find her. I swear." I place my hands on her shoulders, gazing into her eyes so she knows that I mean what I say.
"Janette. We need to find Janette," she says urgently, clutching my arm.
"Janette Loray? Your daughter's friend?"
"Yes. If I can't find my daughter, then we'll find her. I just want to feel like I'm doing something useful," she says.
"Do you want me to look for her?"
Meg shakes her head. "I'm not staying here, if that's what you're trying to insinuate. I'm coming with you."
"That's fine. We'll go together. Come on." Placing my hand on the small of her back, I usher her out of the room and, grabbing her coat, the two of us leave the house.
"Stay close," I whisper as we step outside. Sirens blare in the distance, and something howls loudly. It sounds guttural and human like, but also...not.
"What's that?" Meg gasps, looking around. I steer her to the passenger's side and open the door for her.
"Don't look for anything. Just get in the car."
Trying to follow my own advice, I get in the car without gawking, and drive away.