Inner Workings

Headlights filled the interior of the car with light and she squinted against the harshness of it until the other vehicle had passed. In that glare her skin was dead white, her eyes dark pits. Then the light was gone, only the instrument panel casting a dim green glow that made her complexion look sickly.

There was movement from the back seat and a tired man's voice asked: "How far?"

She answered without looking back, sparing only a brief flick of her eyes to the rear vision mirror: "Since we switched? Nine, ten hours. I stopped for gas a while back, but you were out like a light so I let you sleep."

He yawned and sat up, dark hair askew. "You shouldn't have done that, but I appreciate it. Has there been anything?"

She shook her head. "Not much. A few radio reports from the effected area, just garbled nonsense. No-one really knows what's going on. Or what to do."

"If I hadn't seen it for myself, I wouldn't know what was going on either. Hold on, I'm coming over."

She focussed on the steering while he climbed from the back seat to the passenger seat beside her. She grimaced as he jostled her arm slightly, but said nothing.

"You look like hell," he commented once he had settled, glancing over at her. "You want me to drive?"

"In a bit. I want to make the most of the open road while we have it." She ignored his comment about her appearance, knowing how she looked would be an inadequate reflection of how she felt. She'd lived with the fear for so many days now, she barely noticed the sour tang of adrenaline in her mouth. "There's jerky in the glove box if you're hungry."

He opened the hatch by reflex, pulling out the package. "Want some?" he asked as he opened it. The car filled with the smell of dried beef and teriyaki sauce, reminding her of the taste of heartburn. She shook her head again.

"We made good time once we got out of the city," she said, voice slightly flat and blurred with weariness. "It should take a few days for it to..." Her voice trailled off, not sure how to continue.

"Catch up?" he supplied. "It's okay, I know." He turned to the road unspooling before them in the headlights, the first drops of rain appearing on the windscreen. In the glow of the instrument panel, the liquid looked black and sluggish, clinging obstinately to the glass. She turned the wipers on, smearing the windscreen.

"If you know it's hopeless, then why...?"

"Why keep going?" He shrugged. "I dunno. Something to do, I guess? The idea of sitting and waiting for the inevitable..." He made a soft snorting sound. "Not really my thing."

"I don't know what else to do," she admitted softly, and her expression cracked, softened. "I've always loved driving. All my life, whenever I needed to clear my head, I'd get in the car and just go. When it started, when New York... disappeared, well, I did what I always do. I drove."

He was quiet for a while, watching the regular beat of the wipers, the rain on the window. A reddish glow filled the sky behind him, filling the rear vision mirror with light the colour of blood. They'd gotten less time than she'd thought.

He lay his hand over hers as she gripped the steering wheel.

"Just drive," he said.

"Here she is. The cause of this whole damn thing. Patient zero."

"She's just a child. How old is she?"

"Just turned sixteen. It was her birthday when..."

"When she presented. And we're sure she was the first?"

"Positive. It took a while to track her down, but the dates are conclusive. She was the first case."

"That bandage on her hand. What happened?"

"She cut herself. It isn't more than a pinprick, but it's how the virus spread. At first we thought it was blood-borne, but when cases appeared after she was brought to the ER, we checked. Everyone in the ER that day was a victim. Even the ones nowhere in range of physical contact."

"So she was a carrier. Once her blood was exposed to air, the virus became active."

"But viruses don't work like that. As a carrier, she should have been immune. Look at her. Sleeping like the rest of the city."

"Normal viruses don't work that way, no."

"Wait. Are you saying..."

"A virus that spreads over a city of several million in only a few days. No cure or treatment. Hidden in the cells of a pretty young girl until the right moment. I'm saying what everyone is thinking."

"But why just put everyone to sleep? Wouldn't killing them... us be more effective?"

"If you wanted to wipe your enemies out, certainly. If you wanted to conquer them, it makes far more sense to infect them with a virus to which you hold the cure and which can be used to control the population. Why fill the city with rotting corpses, attracting disease and scavengers, when you could have a captive workforce available at any moment you chose? No chance of rebellion either, with this virus in their blood; they would have to serve if they wished to remain awake."

"That's... diabolical. Surely no-one would consider such a thing?"

"You think like a doctor. I can assure you, not only would someone do such a thing, they would ensure it was appropriately tested. Even if the test subjects had to be our own people."

"Our own... Wait, what are you doing? My suit!"

"My apologies, doctor. I am only doing what I must, for the good of the nation. We may not be at war yet, but it is inevitable. This virus will in fact save billions."

"..."

"Sweet dreams, doctor."

Variations on a theme I've used before, with a twist:

( School of Thought )

Yeah, I'm a bit behind at the moment. I had something of a creative slump, but fortunately, that seems to have lifted and I'm back to writing again. So I'll be posting three or four stories over the next week to get back on track.

I've also deleted the last one, mostly because I'm not happy with it and I have a different direction for it to go. So, watch this space. ;)

I have finally decided what I'm going to use this journal for. It's going to be where I post my fiction - fanfic if I ever write it again, but also my original stuff. I've got more people interested in my writing and I'm not always comfortable with linking them to my personal blog. Ditto the reverse - I don't want those on my personal blog to feel they have to feedback everything I post. I'm getting more and more into the idea of writing for the sake of writing, of creating something and blowing the dust and cobwebs off various parts of my brain and here's an empty journal sitting around with nothing in it.

I have a project this year, thanks to a friend on LJ and my roomie. I enjoyed the NanoWriMo, a short-story writing project where you produce one story a day through November, but I did notice a lot of stuff seemed rushed or half-assed. So, this year, I'm going to challenge myself to a new project, which I'm calling Fifty-Two Pick Up. It's one new short story a week, every week, throughout 2010. A week to get the idea, write it, edit it and hone it. Should be a fun challenge, I think. I'll be posting every Sunday, starting this coming Sunday which is the 10th (yes, I know I technically should have started last week, but I challenge anyone to be creative or in fact functional after the large amounts of beer and small amounts of sleep I got last week!), and I'll be posting here in this journal, rather than LJ.

A bit of reposting first, however, just to shift things over to my "Official Writing Journal". I'll be reposting both Nano projects, so I have things all in one place. And as always, there will be judicious use of tags. :)

For those who don't know me so well, my online name is Rossi and I like to write. You'll pick up the rest as you go along. :)