Biohazard

Chapter 17

I'm on the bus again. Going back to school was horrible. I hated every moment of it. Every time I looked around, I saw people looking back at me. Some eyes were full of pity, some were searching for new gossip, some were just insulting. Everywhere there were whispers. Every time I walk into a new classroom, my teachers try to mask their concerns with a pained smile.

Putting in my earbuds, I try to drown out the sound of the evening commute. The view out the window was lined with prestigious apartments and neighbourhoods of cottage-like houses. The city was luxurious from the surface. It seems to be filled with opportunities, new lifestyles, jobs, friendships, homes, and more, but there's a lot more to the iceberg under the water.

Underground businesses weren't that uncommon, as I was learning. Everyone that you thought was completely clean from some sort of shady business, was entwined in it somehow. The bus rolls to a halt and two tall figures dressed in expensive beige trench coats hop on.

I pause my music. They wore beige trench coats, tall, and looked like trouble. My heart rate starts quickening and my palms sweat. They sit down on either side of me and I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself before I do something regretful.

The buffer man to my right wore dark black sunglasses with curly black hair. The one on my left was on his phone, wearing blood-red glasses with a biohazard symbol on the side of them. The buff man reached into his pocket, pulling out a complicated-looking watch with a red biohazard symbol painted over the top. My blood runs cold when he puts the watch into my lap.

I start getting dizzy when the bus halts at my stop. I practically sprint out the door and back to my house. How do they know me? Stopping near the corner of the street, I lean over with my hands braced on my knees to catch my breath. My hand releases some of the pressure I put on the watch, and I take some time to actually inspect it. There was a small folded piece of paper tucked into the watch near the brown leather straps that I hadn't noticed before.

Looking around, I start walking again, still with my heart in my throat. Turning around, I can see the bus driving away, but I can just barely see two silhouettes standing up, both on their phones. They both look back at me before the buffer of the two wave his phone at me, then start talking with the other man. They're tracking my phone. With trembling hands, I open up the intricate paper to reveal a note scribbled on it with black gel:

Downtown, today 12 am, Biohazard Warehouse, alone, take the shortest route downtown

I'm waiting.

- Lucifer Henderson