Decrease

The Weekend

Gerald replies, "You're not going to cremate her? How can you bury her, Victor? Coffins haven't been built for over forty years since burials were banned. Are you going to stuff her in a cardboard box?"

"Go to hell, Gerald. You've done enough damage to me and my family. I've had it with all of your bullshit! My wife, my daughter, and my unborn grandson are gone because of your damn idea! Why I ever listened to you in the first place, I'll never know! Raymond was right. You are a sick, twisted bastard, and you should have been the one tested all those years ago instead of test subject number three. But, no! You thought you were going to cure the world's diseases by Raymond's discovery. Instead, you've caused the death of billions of lives due to your selfish cause. You are a heartless son of a bitch and I should have killed you a long time ago!"

Gerald looks blankly at Victor, lowers his head, and says, "I'm sorry, Victor. I'm sorry." He looks at Victor's shoes and notices dried blood on them, and says, "I'll meet you down at the lab after you've cleaned up." Gerald turns and walks out the door.

Victor places his hand on the storage compartment and says, "Sleep tight, baby. I'll see you later." Victor leaves the lab to meet up with Gerald.

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Snow drifts begin to form as the wind continues to bellow furiously. Whirling snow consumes the air as many seek shelter from the blizzard as it becomes more enraged, spewing its white breath everywhere. The temperature's dropping and it's cold. The wind whips against the falling snow hanging from roof tops, turning them into icicles. A layer of icy frost begins to deposit on the snow as the temperature continues to drop, displaying the chilly air. The streets and sidewalks are consumed by snow, making it impossible to travel. Within the first hour of the storm, four inches have fallen and increases brutally every minute. Those not yet fortunate to find shelter, knock desperately on locked doors, begging to be let in. Their knocks are silent to those on the other side.

As I sip on a hot cup of tea, I gaze out my office window and watch the guards relentlessly perform their duty. The mass outside the walls of the CDC scream out, pleading mercifully and compassionately to be allowed to enter. While the guards are equipped for defense, none of them wants to apply any deadly force. They feel sorry for the people, but know there isn't a damn thing they can do for them. The guards continue to guard the walls; the people continue to wail upon it.

Fed up with the view, I close my blinds and turn on my desk light. I collapse into my chair and close my eyes and dream of Claire.

No noise, no people. Only blue skies, flowers, and birds chirping in the background sharing our space, Claire's and mine as we lay on a soft quilt, staring at the clouds floating freely among the azure sky.

I turn my head to look at the most beautiful woman in the world. Her profile illustrates her natural curves, starting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She lays serene, with her breasts gently moving with every breath she takes. I turn and lay my hand upon her breast and suckle it gently. After a moment of pleasure for the two of us, she opens her eyes, and says, "John, raw fish can be poisonous." I open my eyes.

"What the..." I say to myself.

I look at the clock and notice I was out for twenty minutes. I stand to stretch and rub my eyes, when alarmingly I hear a knock on the door. Wondering who it is, I begin to pull myself together as I head for the door. I wasn't surprised to see who was on the other side.

"Hey, Monica, what's up?" I ask, as I turn around and head back to my desk.

Monica slams the door and blurts out, "John, we need to do some more lab research. Last night, I was going over with what we have found so far to see if anything correlates with your dad and Dr. Dorsey's notes. Disappointingly, there wasn't any real connection to our current dilemma. So, that got me thinking. Since I couldn't find any association with our findings, and theirs, I realize that your dad must have another journal somewhere, and we need to find it."