Decrease

Wednesday - September 15

The intruder walks over to Raymond, picks up the flashlight, and yanks Raymond's head back so he can shine the flashlight directly into Raymond's face. Raymond is lifeless. Then, with a quick release, the killer lets go of Raymond's head, as he watches the blood flow from Raymond's chest, streaming with a gurgling sound onto the floor.

As the killer stares at their satisfied accomplishment, they grab an empty glass and hold it under the spewing Jim Beam until the glass overflows. Soon after enjoying the delightful refreshment, the assassin puts the glass into their coat pocket, turns off the flashlight, and returns it to the floor. The slayer returns their weapon back into its holster, tears the velvet bag away from Raymond's grip, and quietly exits the way they entered, unnoticed.

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The CDCs parking lot is blighted with dull-colored camouflaged military vehicles. Armed soldiers, on twenty-four hour watches, have orders to "shoot to kill" if they see anyone not authorized to be on CDC property. A flock of endangered Bachman's Sparrows flies frenetically, as they burst from an area twenty feet away from the parking lot. Flying high, then leveling out, the sparrows continue to fly south in total confusion as they have for the last thirty years. The weather change has confused the sparrows, as well as many other indigenous creatures that prefer warm weather, instead of the frigid cold. Most of the time animals burrow themselves into abandoned vehicles, or seek shelter in a warm building in which they may be able to cloak themselves from humans and the elements. In times such as these, even the sparrows are hunted. The starving masses accept the fact that anything moving is edible, and no one thinks twice about how their hunger becomes satisfied.

I open my eyes, only to find myself staring up at my office ceiling. How did I get here? I rub my head, trying to remember the last thing I did. Oh, my God! I pull myself up from the couch, and remember. The lab! All those people! Realizing that I'm not dead, I stand and look around for Ted and Monica. I rush over to my desk and pick up the phone to dial Ted's extension. As his phone rings, someone knocks on my office door. "Yeah, come in!" I shout. The visitor isn't accepting my invitation, so I slam the phone down, and go to the door to see who it is. I open the door and say, "Yeah, what do you want?"

Standing before me is the man who I saw lurking in the hallway on Monday when Julie called me to see the first victims. Then I saw him again, leaving the CDC at the beginning of lockdown. He gives me a cold stare and displays a sly smile. I step back as he shuts the door. Then he walks towards my desk.

"Whoa, man! Who the hell are you?" I sternly say, as I extend my arms out trying to stop him.

"No worries, Dr. Bennett. My name is Stevens. Charles Stevens. I'm with the Population Control Administration, Dr. Bennett, and I believe we have something to discuss. Something about Claire," he says, as he picks up a chair and sets it in front of my desk. After he becomes comfortable, he waves his left hand, saying, "Please, Dr. Bennett, have a seat."

I stare at Stevens, fearing that if he knows about Claire's pregnancy then her dream of being a mother will be shattered. I pull my chair back so I can sit and stare intensely at this asshole. I lean forward asking him, "How do you know my wife?"

Stevens takes a cigar from his pocket. He then uses my desk to strike a match and begins to puff as he ignites his Havana. When he's successful, he throws the used match onto the floor, and then continues to puff until a billow of smoke begins to linger around the both of us. I begin to cough when he pulls out a velvet bag and tosses it on top of my desk.

I look at Stevens with disgust and untie the string wrapped around the bag. I hold the bag upside down, when gravity forces its contents to fall onto my desk. I look at Stevens, asking, "What the hell is this?"