0800 Hours [slash]

0800 Hours: Security Tape #245-87A

Beith Laboratory Archives

Security Tape #245-87A

The audio and visual components of this tape have been separated for security reasons. See tape #245-87V for the corresponding visual feed.

"Where's Cye?"

"Stop talking."

"No. Where is he? What are you doing to him? What the fuck is happening here?"

There's a long, low growl of irritation and then a thunder of angry footsteps.

"You really don't have any survival instincts, do you kid? I have you tied up, in a cell, and I have a gun. It's really in your best interest to do what I say, got it?"

The corresponding snort is anything but deferential.

"If you wanted me dead, you'd have shot me already. But you haven't."

A dissatisfied sigh is the only reply.

...

"Where's Cye?"

"Jesus kid, do you ever just shut up?"

A quiet wisp of laughter dances through the air, light and longing like the smoke from a fire long since extinguished.

"Not really. You're literally the second person I've met in months. And I always talk a lot when I'm nervous. So. Here we are."

"Well stop being nervous then. If you're so confident that I'm not going to shoot you."

"Y'know, I'd be a lot less nervous if I knew where Cye was... Just saying."

The silence that descends upon the room is long and uncomfortable.

"...He's fine. She won't hurt him."

"She? Who else is here?"

Something clangs hollowly against metal. It resonates richly, a lone bell in a church.

"Look, I told you he's fine, alright? Now be fucking quiet already."

The silence settles again, more satiated this time, until –

"Okay, so I don't really do quiet, and –"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, what now?"

"See what you said before? Is that true? Is Cye really... immune?"

This seems to stall the female voice; it coughs roughly once, twice and then lets out a strained sigh.

"You genuinely don't know anything, do you? About this place?"

"Apparently not."

"Then why are you here? There must have been a closer Sanctuary. Why bother coming all the way down here?"

Disbelief tinges the words but is overshadowed by something darker. Guilt? Regret?

"Cye has the biohazard tag, right? We knew he wasn't Infected, but we figured that people probably wouldn't believe us. And we heard Beith was a smuggler's town. So we came here."

There's a pause while someone delicately ponders their phrasing.

"He is immune, that's true. There's... the Evac team are supposed to find a pretext to isolate them. An excuse to give them the tag. A reason to leave them behind. You know, asthma, old age, et cetera."

"They told Cye it's because he's gay. I guess that did always seem like a shitty excuse."

"They what?"

Something cold and metal hits the floor.

"Yeah, something about how there's no room in the Sanctuaries for people who aren't going to help repopulate the planet."

"That is not the case at all, I assure you. Fuck, what a terrible excuse. Was that really all they could come up with? That doesn't even make any sense."

The words are stern now, less apologetic. Less whatever note they had held before.

"What about me? It's just, I was left behind when my dad was evacuated too. At first I thought it was just bad luck, but now..."

They trail off with an uncertain angle. Fear? Hope?

"Why did you get left behind?"

"Because I was out."

Another pause.

"...And did anyone come back for you? To try and tag you?"

"No."

Someone slides to the floor with a dull thump.

"Then no, you're not immune. That really was just a coincidence."

"Oh."

End of Security Tape #245-87A. Continue? Y/N