ℂlementine

Steven was utterly confused. Why did they whisper as he walked on by? Did that woman really just tsk towards his direction? It could just be his imagination. Yes, his imagination, that's all it was. But did he imagine the scowl from the baker? Why had he been refused to by bread? Perhaps the baker just ran out. . .

"You can't 'run out' of bread if it's your bloody job to make bread!" Steven sighed angrily. He didn't even notice he had yelled it aloud and many people were staring. 

Not like he cared either way. All Steven wanted was a damned loaf of bread. Was that so much to ask for? 

"No worries," he assured himself. "Soon I will finally meet her."

The thought sent Steven in a bewildered daze. Finally, after all these years, he would see her. With a foolish grin of a dreamer, he began to wonder. What would she think of him? Who was he kidding? She'd be elated. It's been her voice all along pleading Steven to find her. It's been her singing to him. She would be just as excited as Steven. Wouldn't she?

"It's like a dream. I can't believe I'm actually going to meet her. . . But- Does she want to meet me?"

'Course she did! Why hadn't Steven thought of this plan sooner? He now had a whole search party to find her.

"Absolutely nothing can go wrong!" he chuckled.

Again came the stares. Steven ignored it, only walked along. It didn't even matter that he didn't have food in his stomach. Finally he would meet his angel!

"Speaking of angels..." Steven grumbled.

Gilbert. He still owed Gilbert an angel. 

"Doesn't bloody deserve one of my angels!"

Then again, Gilbert was Steven's best friend. Everything was going smoothly now, there was no reason to be mad at Gilbert.

" 'Course there is! He made me give up that picture! Almost lost my house- And, bloody fool had no right to go-"

"He was only trying to help."

"Who asked him?"

"No one. That's what makes him a good friend."

"You again."

"I'm you."

"My what?"

"Your conscience- Your common sense."

"You're not making any bloody sense if you ask me."

"No need for that language."

"You're me. Get used to it."

Finally, Steven concluded he'd go work on the angel. But this did not mean he'd forgive Gilbert so easily. He almost lost his house- The only thing he had.

"Hey. If it wasn't for Gilbert you wouldn't have those people to help you find the wench in the first place."

"You have a point."

"Of course I do. I'm common sense."

 Steven bit his lip.

"When I see the girl, perhaps then I'll forgive Gilbert."

"You see her every night!- And, you already forgive him."

"Do not!"

"He's your only friend."

"Not true."

"Only real friend."

Coughing, crying, screaming, pleading; even from her isolated room, Clementine could hear these sounds from below. It was a terrible wake up call. Panicked voices awoke with a shriek. Why were they drenched in sweat? Why did their entire body itch? It was unbearable! Intolerable! Their eyes were watery before they had a chance to cry, their vision was becoming poor. And their eyelids swelled, as if they were stung by bees. A hacking cough had possessed their body. This did not happen to all the patients, but mostly the ones on the east wing and the first floor. Some were even losing their hearing, and could hardly hear the ruckus they were causing.

"Doctor Stanfield!!!" the guards called.

"What?" Doctor Stanfield spat, peaking his head out the door. When the guards didn't answer, he walked towards them in a threatening gait.

"I told you I was busy! Can't you call Doctor Lovejoy?!" Doctor Stanfield demanded.

"M-Measles sir!" one officer trembled.

Doctor Stanfield could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment. He was in too much of a shock to react. 

"W-What d-did you say?" Doctor Stanfield said hoarsely. 

"We don't know what to do with them all!"