Blood Stains on the Heart

Prologue: The Beginning

        It was not the dead of night when the infection hit. It was in fact a snowy afternoon with the sun shining and icicles glistening off the roofs of houses, almost blending in with the Christmas decorations hung neatly in a row. It was not gradual, and it was not anticipated. It did not come on a random Friday or Saturday in a completely insignificant month. It happened on Christmas morning. At least, that is when the large suburb called Princeville was overrun.

        Picture this: A family of six gathered around the decorated Christmas tree in their family room, Christmas music blaring and laughter trilling in the air. In the middle sat the eldest daughter of Natasha and Bruce Holland, nineteen-year-old Ivory who just happened to be home from college for the holidays. The Holland children were almost carbon copies of each other. Two girls and two boys, in order from oldest to youngest: Ivory, Lincoln, Everest, and the baby of the family, Ruth. Lincoln and Everest were twin boys, both in the eighth grade. They, along with the rest of the Holland children, shared messy black hair and rusty brown eyes. Little Ruth was merely eight years old, her messy curls always pulled into a ponytail on the top of her head and bright pink nail polish adorning her fingernails.

        Ivory was plain in retrospect to her striking siblings. Her loose curls were chopped to her chin, and she was never seen out of an old pair of jeans and work boots. She was majoring in outdoor education with a minor in women’s studies, as she couldn’t stand to be inside for more than a minute and had no shame in admitting she was a feminist.

        Bruce had gotten up about an hour ago to buy more firewood for their antique fireplace. Natasha had always complained about gas fireplaces, claiming that they just weren’t the same, so even though the wood one wasn’t always the most convenient, they stuck with it. Because of this, all of the children knew how to start a fire with only some sticks and paper.

        Ivory leaned against the couch, Ruth sitting on her lap and the boys sitting above them on the cushions. Ivory stroked Ruth’s messy curls and they giggled as they watched her mother waddle around the room, her hand sticking in front of her face like a beak.

        “Penguin!” Everest called, a look of delight on his face. “You’re a penguin!”

        Natasha pointed at him and grinned. “Ever’s got it! Your turn, baby boy!” She skipped over to the couch and took his seat after he got up and drew a tiny piece of paper out of the hat labeled ‘Charades.’  Natasha ruffled Ivory’s hair as she drew her legs up under her before squeezing Lincoln’s knee affectionately.

        Before Everest got a chance to act out whatever was on his card, Bruce burst through the door panting and sweating, holding an old towel to his upper arm. Natasha jumped up, a worried look spreading across her face. “Bruce?” she questioned, walking over to him. He smiled at her, easing Ivory’s concern. If he could still smile like that, then nothing could be too wrong.

        “Don’t worry, Honey. I just got in a tussle with a homeless man. You want to know something funny, though? He actually bit me! I was able to get him off before he could do too much damage, but this sucker hurts!” he proclaimed, chuckling to himself.

        Natasha pouted playfully. “So you’re all right?” she asked in a teasing voice. “Big bad Brucey-Wucey will be all right?” She giggled and kissed his forehead, relief obvious in her joking eyes. “I’m just happy you’re okay.”

        Ivory frowned, the feeling that something was wrong still in the pit of her stomach. “Maybe you should go to the doctor, Dad,” she suggested half-heartedly, knowing that her father was the last person on earth to ever go to the doctor’s office if he did not have to.