Project Red Ribbon

CHAPTER 1

James sat up, leaning all his weight on his shaking elbows. He looked down, his worn-out medic trousers were still with him, but his shirt was gone- leaving him looking at his own pained torso. A more troubling thought instantly took over his thoughts.

"Where are the others?" James coughed out whilst throwing his legs out onto the floor as he sat up fully. The man didn't look troubled, nor pushed to give any more information about what happened when the helicopter crashed.

"Please, I need to know where they are," James continued, pushing himself up. He stood face to face with the man, looking at him closer- James could see a thin scar that stretched from the left side of his mouth to the centre of his cheek.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Kid, a lot of your friends died," he said casually. James stumbled and clutched onto the bedframe. Instead of mourning, his mind went into overdrive- his thoughts muddled into a delirious state which made him believe this was some joke, some nightmare.

"We tried to save you all, really we did, the Fallen got there just before us," the man said with sympathy, "you're lucky to be drawing breath."

James didn't know what to do, what to say or what to think. The Captain was gone, most of the people he'd come with were either dead or infected- he was trapped in the middle of a pandemic torn country, with nowhere to go. 

"Don't be rude, James, tell me about yourself," The man snaps, folding his thick arms over his chest. James could see blood and dirt stuck to the hairs on his forearms. James didn't want to imagine whose blood it was.

"I'm from the Contamination and Widespread Crisis Prevention Zone, I'm here as a training paramedic. We were meant to be transferred to Washington D.C," James began. There was so much he knew. That was one of the bonus' that came with having his Father working in Intel. He owed it to the Zone to keep quiet about why they were being transferred.

"You're a desert candy-ass?" The man asked, his face concreted in concentration despite what he had just called James.

"A what?"

"You're from the Nevada Zone, right? You were making your way to the Washington Zone?" He laughs, forgetting the serious nature of James' circumstance. James didn't want to be pushed to say any more. He had his own questions.

"Who are you?" He asks. The man looks up with amused eyes.

"Calvin Fitzgerald," he replies. He stands up and turns around as if leaving. James notices on the back of his arm- just below his elbow bone is a tattoo of the head of a stag. It was just an outline, with its large antlers curling around his arm.

"What's the tattoo for?" James asked before he could stop himself. Calvin smiled which made his scar wrinkle.

"Three years ago, I was close to being bitten. All I had was my handgun, but I couldn't reach it from fending off the Fallen. I got away thanks to some deer, it jumped out and attacked it, allowing me time to get away."

James' mind raced. A deer fought one of the Fallen to save a mans life? It sounded like a miracle. It was surprising enough that life still existed in the wild. 

"Really?" James asked in awe. Calvin opened the door.

"No. Nothing can save you from those things but yourself," He answered casually. James deflated. "So, get your ass off the bed and follow me."

James got up, he felt conscious walking around without a shirt on. He examined himself- it was a miracle that he hadn't sustained any burns, his body had been affected though, his head still felt light from the cut and his neck was stiff. James didn't remember Calvin showing up and rescuing him, but he must have done it fast. He followed him out of the room, a long hallway lay ahead made entirely of dull concrete. James followed suit, not wanting to be alone here.