Sunsets on the East

Chapter 2

"That's all for today's lecture," Professor James rubbed his beard thoughtfully, glancing around the lecture hall. "Remember to do your readings, and I'll see you all next week."

Sam leaned her neck to the side, hearing the satisfying crack in her joints after sitting in nearly the same position for an hour. As the rest of the class shuffled through the dark mahogany doors that separated the classroom from the hallway, she stayed in her seat, taking her time to zip up her belongings. Once the room emptied, she nestled her knapsack over her shoulder and made her way to the front of the classroom where Professor James was packing up his own materials.

Her footsteps alerted him of her presence and he glanced up, his glasses falling onto the bridge of his nose. "Sam, grab that binder over there, will you?"

Sam shuffled over to the podium that her professor pointed out and grabbed the familiar binder, which could barely close from all of the documents and photos shoved haphazardly inside. "Great lecture today, James," she said, turning back towards him. "I only managed to fall asleep twice."

Her professor and mentor gave a snort in reply, snapping the clips on his briefcase shut. "Tell me which sections you missed. I'll be sure to put that material on the exam." He straightened— or straightened as much as he could with a hunched back, as years of living weathered him down. "Come on now, we're already late."

"And who's fault is that? You kept the class behind for like, twenty minutes," Sam teased, but instantly fell into place beside him. Her eyes glanced to his hand. "I'll take that." She grabbed the briefcase from her professor before he could protest. The elderly man hobbled along beside her as they ventured into the hallway.

Sam gave her professor a sideways glance. He was a small man, frail and unassuming. His head was a sea of silver and had a pale beard to match, his figure was stout, and a metal prosthetic was in place of his right leg. His mouth was always turned upwards in a perpetual smile, as proven by the lines creased around his lips and beside his eyes.

Professor Matthew James had been a member of Ridgeview University's faculty for nearly twenty years, but he had been alive far, far longer than that. He had been alive during the Great War of 2035, when humanity declared war on the Corrupted. Sam pursed her lips and glanced at his prosthetic leg. She had asked him about it once and found herself reminded of the memory as the two made their way down the hallways.

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Sam had learned about her professor's past a few months back. There was a time when Sam had been taking another class he taught— Introduction to Neuroscience— and had questions about the material. It was also right around that time when she was hired as a student researcher on his Corrupted Strain Lab Study, where a group of faculty and student researchers funded by Ridgeview grants experimented on the creation of potential antidotes for the Corruption.

The day she decided to attend Professor James's office hours, it was raining. She entered Rosenthal Hall, damp and frustrated, before making her way to his office. Her knuckles rapped on the door— once, twice, three times.

"Come in," Sam heard his voice through the wood.

"Hi, Professor," she said as she entered. James had been seated in his leather chair; his eyebrows were knitted together and his hands were rubbing the area between his prosthetic and the stump of what remained of his right leg. Sam turned away, as if she had caught him in an intimate moment. "I'm so sorry to bother you."

"Oh, it's no bother, Samantha," James waved off her concern. "These are my office hour times anyway." Outside, the rain splattered in pellets, the soft thump of the droplets hitting the window before sliding down the glass. "Take a seat anywhere you'd like."