In The Company Of Monsters

Last Day

In the warehouse, Victor, Blair and Mitch sat in a semi-circle around a crate, waiting. Jack had asked everyone to assemble for an important message from outside. His tone and manner were subdued, which only added to the tension.

Victor leaned forward, trying to catch Blair's eye. Was she going to hang on to this grudge forever? He smiled at her, the way he did that always warmed her up.

She wasn’t cooperating and stared straight ahead, deliberately ignoring him.

Bitch.

Jack entered, radio in hand. His face was stony, and he looked each person in the eye as he approached.

“I thought this is something we all needed to hear firsthand,” he told the group.

Mitch looked around. “Where's Lily?”

“She'll be here in a second. Now what happened wasn't her fault. She's a victim here too. Please just everybody-“

Lily walked in, cane out and tapping. The clicking of her cane on the concrete floor was fresh for everyone. Mitch watched her impassively, while Victor's eyes tracked Lily's every move. Blair sat up straighter in her chair.

Lily found an empty chair and sat down apart from the others.

Victor nodded a cursory greeting in her direction. “Blondie.” She flashed a grin at the undercurrent of respect. “Don't let me hold things up,” she smiled.

The group fell silent then, and a somber mood settled over them like a wet blanket. 

Jack thumbed the radio. “OK, Frank. We're all here.” He set the radio down on a crate so they could all hear.

“Alright, here's the latest,” Frank said from the radio.  “The CDC has been at the Brazil site for five days now. They're saying it's an aggressive, mutated form of rabies.”

Victor threw up his hands. “Fuckin' lovely,” he growled.

Frank continued. “Now the bad news. And there's no easy way to say this. Everyone exposed in Brazil is dead. Even the ones who didn't go crazy.”

Mitch hung his head in his hands. Blair’s eyes fell to the floor.

The voice on the radio pressed on, describing their fate. “It comes on fast. Loss of muscle control. At that point, death is imminent.”

Victor jumped up and grabbed the radio.

“How long have we got?!” he yelled.

The radio was silent. Then, Frank answered him. “So far, no one has survived this thing past twelve hours.”

Jack checked his watch.

“You've got four hours left.”

* * *

Victor turned the faucet for the cold water and bent over the restroom sink. Running his hands under the cool stream, he stared at the face in the mirror. Christ. Looks like I added 10 years. His neck and jaw were taut with stress. He willed the muscles to relax, but like Blair, they ignored him.

He cupped his hands, letting the water pool in his grasp. He splashed it over his face and welcomed the cold shock. Looking into the mirror, he frowned at the sight reflected back.  

He forced a grin, but flashes of death teased and jeered from behind his eyes. Drops of water dripped from his jawline. The smile melted away. The man in the mirror spoke to him.

“Between you and me, I think we're fucked.”

* * *

Blair stood looking at the room where she went homicidal. The floor where they had sex. The bullet hole in the floor where she nearly murdered her lover. The room where she stopped being herself and turned into something entirely different. Something monstrous.