Black Source #theWattys2016

Derek IV

Victims numbered in the thousands, excluding the reanimated remains of the infected that closed in on the remnant of the world like an inescapable, divine punishment. Malice and mayhem decorated all areas of the free, untamed world of the living. Derek was a part of that decorated madness, clawing his way from the bottom of the sickness to the top. Horrible things needed to be done to survive, and terrible things were their outcome. The one thing that kept Derek's world in order was music, and he had finally found someone of like mind.

Derek put the bow to strings and did what his hands remembered. Making music with Evey was normally nothing difficult, primarily due to his long history with the violin, one of the more difficult stringed instruments. His years of uninterrupted practice would have to take over, and they did, to great effect. The sound was absolutely beautiful, completely changing the atmosphere of the office. He took sharp strokes, and his fingers danced over the strings, creating a rhythm of high pitched notes. Derek closed his eyes and felt the sounds, completely entranced by them, consumed.

"Very impressive," Frank closed his eyes. "Allegro, L'inverno in F minor, Op. 8, No. 4, RV 297, by Vivaldi...Keep playing." Frank grabbed another violin from his wall and placed it under his chin then matched Derek's pitch, filling the office with powerful sounds. Derek strummed a fast solo pattern while frank played a dynamic low-pitched note. Derek lost himself in the music, the rushing sounds and deep strings, throwing his head back and forth, moving in time with the rhythm. He was captured by the ethereal tones, possessed by the thunderous song, exploring the reaches of his soul with every note. He was outside of himself, lost in the astral of harmony.

"EXCELLENT!" Frank roared. The music took Derek far back into his mind, far back where Angel was; where memories fluttered passed his closed eyes like butterflies. Then with one move, the violins went silent, leaving the sounds to echo throughout the office.

Placing his black violin on the desk, Frank opened a chest in the corner of the office and retrieved a full set of guitar strings.

"You've certainly earned my trust, Derek." Frank handed him the strings. "As promised," he said. Derek's heart leapt into his throat. Frank took a seat at his desk and got back into character. "How can I help you, Derek?"

"I'm looking for some very close friends." Derek felt odd. He finally had the strings Evey needed. It felt like the climax to a dream. "Ones name is Jacob and the other's is Klaiton—a big tough looking old guy and a dark skinned guy. Have you seen them, by chance?"

"I would like to say I recall those names, but sadly, I can't remember every survivor I come across. I hate to say this but, your friends may be lost." Frank looked grim. "Which brings me back to my initial question...how do you know Fred?"

"I'll tell him the truth," Derek whispered to Evey. "Raven's team rescued me while they were waiting for Fred's men to show up at the checkpoint. That's where I found his ID...along with him." Frank dropped back in his chair. The confirmation of his Fred's death cut deep.

"You want to know the truth, Derek? The truth is...I lost him long before the outbreak. We were younger then, back when he still believed. When you were playing Melody, I could feel the loss in you. I, too, have suffered great loss." The regret was visible on Frank's face. He shook his head slowly. "To him the outbreak was another way to escape. He was bitter, you see. He believed in our mother. She was what kept his heart from being poisoned by the world." Frank stood up and peered out the burgundy curtains again. He looked like he was coming to grips with the loss.