• I clasped my hands over the cool handle and slowly cranked it down. There was a satisfying click and the door swung itself inwards. I took a small step foward and a chill immediately shot up my spine. It was a standard interrogation room, like the ones that you see in the movies and in crime dramas. The walls were painted a dull gray and was illuminated by a singular light that swung around aimlessly in the middle of the room. In place of the usual cool metal table, a pathetic looking man sat bound in its place. His long greasy hair hung limply over his eyes, his clothing stained with sweat (or blood). Doctor Hisotomi stood by a small table, holding a blood sample up to the light. He turned to see us enter, his round spectacles catching the glare of the light.

    "Evening Doc."

    "Evening, Nathan. How was the run?"

    "Fine, fine. I got enough pickles to last us a lifetime. So. How's HE doing?"

    I gestured towards our unconscious friend in the chair.

    "He's fine, for now. I just gave him some sedatives, so he should be rather tame."

    "How long has it been Doc? Seven months we've been in this s***hole?"

    "If that's your way of pestering me about a cure, you as well as anyone knows that once the parasite has entered your blood stream, it's already too late. For this one especially..."

    "SOOOoooo...that's it? No cure? Nothing?"

    "Well, I might have discovered a way to kill the parasite BEFORE it has entered the bloodstream, but the problem is WHERE the parasite originates from. In order to prevent the spread, we must attack the source."

    "Remind me where we found you Doc."

    "Hiding in a Burger King clutching onto a cleaver."

    "Whatever..."

    I took a walk over to the Infectee, pinching his cheeks in between my fingers and propping his face towards me.

    "I wouldn't do that Nathan. You know that he's 80 hours into the disease...you of all people should know what they do when they are left unchecked. Even WITH the sedatives, I can't guarantee your complete safety."

    Ignoring Doc, I gave the Infectee a couple light slaps on the side of his face.

    "Hey a*****e, wake up."

    The Infectee's eyes flickered open, revealing a piercing pair of bloodshot eyes. His brow narrowed and he began to grind his teeth.

    "How ya feelin' buddy? Doc been takin' good care of ya'?"

    "How do you think I feel? F****ing four-eyes over there has been torturing me for the last 15 hours! Now let me out of this chair you p**** so I can tear your damn heart out!"

    Its eyes were wide with anger, hungry for blood.

    "Ohhhh. Touchy aren't we? I think we're going to have to fix that."

    I drew my pistol from it's holster and struck him across the face with it. Blood spattered out of its mouth across the wall.

    The way it looked at me. Something about it just pissed me off.

    Blood dribbled from the side of its mouth, the animosity practically bled from it.

    "B****" it whispered, hawking a pint of blood in my face.

    I reeled back in disbelief.

    My patience had grown thin. My anger escalated and was clearly emitted on my face. That was it. I've had about enough of it.

    I sent Doc an angry glare, and he gave me a small nod of approval.

    "I'm done with him. His usefullness has come to an end."

    Its face turned to a frown and wildly looked from me to the Doc and to the pistol.

    I drew back the hammer on the pistol and brought the barrel to Its forehead. Fear irradiated from It and looked at me with fear and oppresion, almost like a child. Gone was the animosity from before. Gone was the lust for blood. I guess even the Infected show fear. A wide smile crossed my face.

    This is for Marie...

    I fired.