A Fading Boundary

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I had always thought there was a clear line between man and beast.  Only recently

I had realized how untrue that was.  One year ago, I joined an elite team of seven, and I would like to think we are similar to SWAT teams, though our job seems to be more important, though I'm attempting not to honk my own horn. Two years ago, the government started attempting to create a liquid that has the ability to bring a person back from the grave,  and they used unwilling citizens of Atlanta, Georgia as guinea pigs. The test subjects, after receiving a dose of the fluid, started having sporadic behavior, their appetite increased a great deal, and their veins being visible on the upper neck to their face, in the color of dark red. 

"Oliver, hello? Pick up the phone!" My phone was going off, the sound of my friend, Liam screaming from the other side of the line, woke me up. 

Sluggishly, I threw my hand over to my phone and answered. "What is it?" I said groggily while throwing the blanket off myself, and sitting up.


"One of the subjects attacked Cromwell, one of the scientists. Jason's asking you and me to take his place for the next few days. Be here by ten." I could hear him yawn as I got out of my bed, and was getting dressed. 

"I'll be there soon," I said, as I was wrapping my watch around my left wrist.  I hung up the phone.   It was eight forty-nine. "I have a while," I muttered to myself, opening the bedroom door. I grabbed a can of Loca-Loco and put together a sandwich. I'm not exactly a gourmet chef, alright? 

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