Chapter 2: Chapter 002: Punctured limbs.
Behind bars isn't what I'd opt for after the life-and-death situation. But here I was, standing while complying with orders from an agent outside the bars.
"Mouth…" I spread my mouth and the agent extended his blue torch and scanned inside. Briefly, the torch progressed to my hazels and then asked to reveal my locked teeth. This shit was weird.
"Let him be, John. We've run all tests on him and he isn't infected." An agent striding past said before chuckling. "Give lil Rome a break, yeah?" He picked a file from a table and winked at me before retiring.
My lungs quivered as I released a stored breath. My thought steered back to the taxi man who had believed my blood-filled fabric was from sucking people's blood and my stinkiness came from being undead. But the wanker didn't assume how he was still alive after dropping me off without me sucking dry his blood.
"Let him out," A voice asserted, drawing my attention as my head inflated its direction, then realized it was my superior. John unlocked the cell with unwillingness and I hoofed out. "C'mere boy," The middle-aged man gestured with his arm despite enunciating with his mouth.
My legs swarmed with doubts while walking over to him. My superior wasn't this kind. He doesn't care if you're innocent or not, to him, being behind bars in the first place means you belong there.
"I don't bite, Quinn." I simply couldn't agree with that.
My steps tramped behind him as we stepped into his office.
"Sit down," He commanded, interlocking his fingers, before peeking at something underneath his joined fingers as I sat opposite him. "You're not infected, but there's a sixty percent chance you're likely to be annihilated since you're honoured as the only survivor."
"But you were there. John and Paul were there too, and the others."
"Your signal was cut off, so you weren't able to take notice of the warning to retreat. That fight wasn't our fight; we don't stand a chance."
A calm relief washed through me knowing the never-happy man saved my butt. "Thank you… sir," I sincerely let out.
"Don't thank me yet. So now tell me, why were you there? You're a fucking trainee for Christ's sake."
I became speechless. For real?
"You instructed me to hurl my ass over,"
"And you couldn't refuse?"
"No."
He sighed, notably exhausted as his thumb massaged his brows. "See lad, I don't want you hurt. And hell I don't wish for death 'cause that's a lot of paperwork. You're fragile and it's still a mystery why you chose this line of profession when you're evidently fitted in the science field." That didn't sting, I assured myself. "You're a good fellow, it's just- the world is full of bad and dangerous people,"
"What are you suggesting?" I understood where he was steering, but I ought to confirm.
"Switch paths and go for something… science-related. I will pull a few strings to get you situated,"
My response came with a slight jiggle of my head. "No sir,"
"Quinn-"
"I've always yearned for this, Mr Berlin, and nothing is gonna make me change my mind."
Mr Berlin sighed tiredly. "Very well then. You can go now and tend to your brother; I'd made sure to deliver cereals and fruits the four days you were away. Didn't want to startle him by dropping chicken breasts or burger in the fridge."
I nodded, tossing him an appreciative smile before standing from my seat, guiding my way out of the door. Something penetrated my thinking compelling me to halt, and with hesitation, I twisted to ask. "What happened to the infected agents?"
"Killed in sight. They were transforming so bullets still worked on them."
"And those… bat-like people?"
"They disappeared, probably to another city or something." I nodded at his response before exiting the door.
I stepped past the other agents, bumped fists with a few trainees like myself and greeted a few seniors before walking to my quarters. I was mostly placed on night patrol, I couldn't understand why since they had the police for that. There are other punishments.
Climbing into my recently appointed car, I navigated home to tend to my brother before evening and left for nightly patrol.
Three days later, people seemed to have forgotten about that fateful day. Trotting on my usual night patrol.
Different day, same shit.
Puffing out, I pivoted my car through the street on my right. It was gloomy, well most streets here were dark despite the maximum supply of electricity. As I drove out, I heard a low cry-
"Help!"
Light loomed as my headlights illuminated in that direction, and upon slim observation, I caught a body on the ground. It appeared to be unmoving. Clambering down my car, I cocked my recently achieved gun before swapping on my torchlight, then paced through the route. I scrutinized the surroundings with the assistance of the torch as I made my way towards the body on the ground.
It was a woman. A bleeding woman in pain. Her limbs emerged freshly punctured as blood creeped out of holes whilst pumping slowly out of her neck.
Christ.
It's new and recent, witnessing how low steam escaped from the warm blood.
My arm slid down to reach my walkie-talkie, and I reported;
"10-30," I said through and received a response within a second.
"Location?" A voice spoke through, and I replied.
"6 blocks down the deserted museum."
"Affirmative." The walkie-talkie responded before it disconnected.
The lady kept mumbling and her eyes gradually shut due to the decrease of blood in her system. I reached for the soft handkerchief kept around my left pocket and gently huddled it on her injured neck to curtail the bloodstream.
Soon enough, an ambulance pulled over after disturbing the neighbourhood with its siren with two cars accompanying it. A senior walked over to me with interest in his eyes while the others took pics and a few objects like the blood-stained handkerchief sealed in different transparent satchels. The ambulance took the woman away. I'd been privileged enough to hear the soft words the woman kept mumbling before the cars arrived.
'Morte su tutti.' I wondered what it meant, the same language as the little blue-eyed kid. It sounded Spanish but I wasn't certain.
"You sure you didn't see anything when you arrived?" The senior agent asked as he reached my spot. "Those holes in her limbs seemed to be caused by claws, and her neck undoubtedly by fangs; saw the scrape at the side." He exhaled, looking around before speaking again. "Don't tell anyone what you saw, I'll claim it to be harassment by thugs and write that on the report."
"Yes, Agent Miles."
"Good." He said. "Go now, I'll handle stuff here,"
My head bobbed, walking over to my car and threw a long glance at the woman who was hurriedly tended to before being driven to the hospital.
I knew those wounds. I had one. I had scars. And I'm thankful I wasn't turned and wasn't like those bat-people.
Sitting inside my car I brought out my phone and Google voiced the words; "Morte su tutti," and the result was displayed. It's Italian, not Spanish, I learned noticing the dialect detected above the words written. I saw two results; Death upon all/Death above all.
Death…
That's what the woman said she heard. I emptied the words on the search bar and used the voice note to write another word; "Rivendicare il nostro mondo," and the result showed.
"Claiming back our world," I murmured in surprise as I persistently stared at my phone. But this wasn't their world… or was it? No way. I ought to alert the others, but I couldn't tell my superior knowing it would just be wasted. I didn't have evidence to back my claim; that woman is likely to spend a few weeks unconscious.
Nothing suspicious happened that evening and my patrol went smoothly, yet my mind swayed on the words throughout. Merging the words I knew they were likely to kill many until they claimed back their worlds.
I pulled over on my driveway and reached to open the front car door when my heart unexpectedly squeezed, prompting me to grip hard on my chest. I couldn't breathe as pain washed over me. Thinking it was my asthma acting up, I stretched for my inhaler lying on the passenger seat and took a waft. I tried to stabilize my heart rate by inhaling and exhaling slowly yet deeply, and it worked.
With my chest rising and dropping, I set my head on the steering wheel, my heart throbbing painfully in my chest. I could hear it, the loud rhythm of the pulsing of blood through my veins from my heart. I could hear my profound breathing which I didn't realize until now the fear laced upon it after my asthmatic seizure.
Christ, I could hear them, and more. I could hear the tough throb of a door and struggled to open it. I could hear a muffled cr- shit.
My heart clutched again and this time strongly; painfully hard provoking me to groan as I reached for my inhaler again. It wasn't working, the waft wasn't stopping it. So I pushed open the door of my car, before wriggling out. My heart mashed again as I reached outside and I fell to the ground holding my chest tight.
Was I dying? It looks like it.
But I didn't want to.
I crept underneath my car as my phone and walkie-talkie rolled under after falling. I picked them up and realized they had broken.
"Fuck!" I grasped onto the walkie-talkie as I fidgeted out and crawled to my house knowing I had a spare phone inside, or maybe use my brother's to call an ambulance.
The throbbing on a door kept repeating and loud as I reached my door. I'm thankful my keys weren't missing as they hadn't fallen off my back pocket. I unlocked the door with difficulty and limped inside.
That's when I heard it.
The painful beating on my brother's door and the cry for help. And blood. I could smell blood and hear the pumping out of it.
I struggled to find my spare phone on the side table, and two seconds later realized I left it in the bathroom. I trudged to my room and bathroom, neglecting my pain after realizing my brother might be in trouble. As I arrived in the bathroom a squeeze made me swear as the pain made me immobile for seconds.
I hurled my hand and reached for the washbasin. I raised myself, clasping tight to the bathroom sink for assistance. I stretched my hand as I sighted the phone, however, halted when I saw something in the mirror.
My image. Myself. I'm looking at myself in the mirror and the change in my appearance. Lines over my skin, torn pale skin that made me appear sick. But my eyes were still hazel.
Lord.
I can't be seen with this appearance or would be annihilated, same as my brother.
I coughed for the first time that evening and puked blood. This scares me thinking I'm dying. Then my gum began to itch and the next second I felt something ploughing under my canines. I flashed my mouth in the mirror, and I witnessed with horror as fangs slowly germinated on my short canines.
I'm gonna be shot at sight if any police see me.
I took my phone and decided to trudge back to my brother's room when I learned I wasn't in much pain anymore. Felt stronger, strange.
I didn't get the chance to exit the bathroom when sirens surrounded my house and I heard my voice loudly called outside.
"You're under arrest, Roman Quinn, for being a carrier of the bat virus." Not again, I thought.
My palms squeezed the washbasin as I contained a frustrating groan. Then I heard voices which undoubtedly belonged to the officers but weren't meant to be this loud.
"How do you know he's infected?"
"Citizens saw him, alongside a few officers, with claws and fangs deep into people while driving his car. And he had his Ruger SR9c; nobody except him uses a Ruger SR9c."
"Then this is dangerous; we've got to kill him before he transforms."
"Yes sir."
"If the door isn't opened in three minutes, break down the door and kill those viruses."
My eyes dilated. They would come in and see my appearance and shoot me without questioning. I sprinted from my bathroom and impatiently steered towards my brother's room and pushed open the door. There my brother was, limbs bleeding and face pale from fear. Thankfully he had no injury around his neck.
"Roman…" My brother called and I bent to him on the ground. He's in pain. His eyes kept goggling accusingly at me and I could register the hint of fear, but not at my recent appearance. "Wh-why did you try to kill me?"
Try to kill? I just arrived at the room. And I wasn't- wait. Fangs and claws deep into people? trying to kill his brother? That wasn't me. That's the blue-eyed kid.
Fuck-
Bang!
My door was slammed against and my cheap apartment thundered.
Bang!
Another rumble. The door isn't gonna hold for long. I heaved my brother off the ground into my arms before running towards the back door. "What's happening?" Thomas whispered, but I chose to ignore it by jiggling my head and tossing a reassuring sad smile.
The officers were there too, pushing again the back door. The two entrances were blocked. I made my way back to my brother's room and looked out of the window. It doesn't lead to the front door like my own. I studied the bottom for my landing and saw the short bushes that belonged to my neighbour's overgrown garden.
Whack! And the door came apart. I could hear their feet surrounding my apartment and the sound of guns cocking. Taking another peek at the bottom, I flung myself up after sealing Thomas in my arms and vaulted out.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone