The Fever

The Agent

PARIS, FRANCE:

VICTOIRE:

I don't remember much of my childhood spent in France. At a young age, just six years old, Mama fled to America, taking me with her. Papa had been a cruel man, horribe to my mother. Despite my French heritage, the only connection I had with the country was my French sounding name. Even at a young age, I knew that we would have a better life in America and I never wanted to go back to France. Everything about France reminded me of my father. I hated him. Never in all my thirty years had I wanted to know what happened to him. He could be rotting in Hell for all I cared. He had made my mother feel weak. I never wanted to feel like that.

At the age of twenty-three I applied to join the FBI. I was legal citizen of the United States and had been to college. Mama had not liked the idea of me putting myself in danger. But, it was what I wanted to do. Nothing would sway me. I did not want to feel weak and I wanted to protect the country that had protected Mama and me from Papa.

Years of speech therapy helped me to sound like any person in America. Still, Mama wanted me to know my native tongue and so she taught me French. The language came in handy when joining the FBI, as did my profiency in both Spanish and Chinese.

Knowing Fnrech is what led the government to send me and two other agents to Paris when the breakout occured. We were meant to discover if it was indeed a terrorist attack. No amount of training could have prepared me for what happened. People within the hotel were turning into wild cannibals.

The French government had been unable to contain it or hide what was happening. And, now they had finally given up. The etnire city was ablaze. It was the only way to get rid of the infected.

"F*cking zomebies," one of my partners said after exhaling the smoke of his cigarette. His name was Frank McKay and was just a few years younger than me.

"Zombies?" I repeated incrediousy.

He nodded his head. We were standing at the top of a building several miles away from the heart of the city. Smoke wafted through the air, collecting into large stormy colored clouds. Flames licked upwards as it ate the city.

"Zombies," he said. "Tell me you've watched at least one zombie movie?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm not into horror films." My eyes never left the scene before me.

"This is how it starts," he said. "The infection starts to spread and soon family members are eating their loved ones, no idea of what they're doing. There's not other explanation for what's happening, V. People just didn't decide one to become cannibals. You've seen the wild look. They aren't in control of their minds anymore. They're zombies."

The sound of a door opening behind us caused us both to turn around. The other agent, Michael Halloway, was standing in the doorway. "Come on guys, the planes here," he said.

"Finally," Frank said. He dropped his cigarette and squished it out with the front of this boot.

Back in the building a few people were preparing to get on the plane. There was even a small group of doctors who had been the few to surivie the conference center's outbreak. There were two Americans, one German, and two Spaniards.

"Come on everyone," Michael told the group.

I was heading towards the doors when a woman approached me. She looked to be in her late forties, maybe her fifties. Her dark chocolate hair was pulled back into a messy bun and she looked tired.

"Yes?" I asked.

"I cannot leave," she said simply, a determined gleam in her eyes.

I raised my eyebrows. "Ma'am, you need to come with us," I told her and motioned towards the plane awaiting us.

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "I will not leave. I, as well as the rest of the doctors, are going to remain here. We are possibly the only hope to finding a cure."

"Lady, you are crazy," I said.

The woman shrugged. "That may be," she agreed. "However, the five of us have decided to stay. We will go to Dr. Babineaux's home in hopes of finding something to work with." She glanced over her shoulder at her companions then turned back to me. "We do not need protection or assistance, Agent Gaudet."

I looked from her to the others and then back. "You are certain?" I asked her, frowning. It was practically a suicide mission to stay behind.

She nodded. "Yes, we are."

"Okay," I said.

I didn't want to leave the group behind, but I could see that nothing I said would change their minds. And, maybe they would find a cure for this.

Pulling out a card from my jacket I handed it to the woman. "That's my number. If you need to call it, please do not be afraid to do so," I told her.

"Thank you," she said.

Everyone else was outside by now. I turned back to the doors when she grabbed my arm. I fought against the instinct to protect myself, and looked back at her.

"This is a picture of my family. We lived in Baltimore. I know it is not likely that you will ever see my children," she said while rummaging around in her purse until she found her wallet, "but if on the off chance that you do, please tell them that I love them." She took a picture from her wallet and handed it to me. "Tell them that I had to do this. I hope to God that they understand that I'm doing this to keep them safe."

I looked down at the photo. It was a family portrait. The woman was standing next to a man with dark hair like her own. Two children, one probably in middle school and the other high school, sat in front of her. They all had the same brown eyes and dark hair. I recognized the man. Agent Halloway had shot him at some point because he had been infected.

Like the woman said, it was not likely that I would see her children. But, I accepted the photo and told her that I did see them that I would pass the message on.

She smiled and thanked me. Then, she turned back to her companions.

As I walked out of the building, the photo now folded up and in my jean's pocket, I couldn't help but admire the woman. She was styaing back in order to try and stop this epidemic. Even if it meant that she would die or be infected. Even if it meant that she might not see her kids again. I could tell it was a difficult choice, but one she felt obligated to make. And, the rest of her group. I wondered what their stories were, what they were giving up in order to make the world safe again.

"Where are the others?" Frank asked as I climbed up over the steps.

"They aren't coming," I told him while sitting down in a seat up front. "Nothing we say can persuade them to come with us, either."

"What the hell?" he asked whipping head back to look at me.

I shrugged. "They want to try and find a cure," I explained. "Are you going to be the person to tell them no and that they have to come with us?"

"Why can't they do that somewhere safer?" he asked.

"Because Dr. Babineaux's work is here," I reminded him.

Frank shook his head and closed the airplane door. Then, he sat down in the aisle parallel to mine. Michael sat behind him. We were all ready to return home. Though, we had no idea what it would be like back there. That the infection was spreading more quickly and that there would be chaos back in the states.

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