After the smoke cleared, the jungle
gym was empty. Michael looked around, but there was no sign of the diminutive
black-clad forms. He looked to his left and his right, at the fallen bodies of
his colleagues, and wondered just what had happened. And how he had survived.
The world around him was deathly
silent. For one in the afternoon, this was particularly odd. The surrounding
playground was empty, the dark school building a ghoulish remnant in the
distance. Checking himself quickly – he wouldn’t be the first to be done in by
a minor scratch – Michael was relieved to find his skin intact. Holstering his
pistol, he grabbed his fallen hat before heading back towards his car. I guess this call will need to go unsolved
for now, he thought.
From a distance everything looked
oddly normal, just simply waiting for the use and abuse of everyday life to
return. But everyday life had changed, and Michael doubted this particular
school would see a class for many years yet. The core cities were safe and
clean, with life taking on a semblance of normalcy. The frontiers, though; they
were a different story. Squads of assassins still roamed the countryside, faces
hidden behind black masks. They could strike without warning, and often it was
far too late for any response to make a difference by the time Michael heard
about it. This was a unique case, though. He had actually seen them. Their tiny bodies confirmed every rumor he had heard. He
did not know whose children they were, but these kids were definitely affected.
He looked over his shoulder at the
bodies of his partner and their backup. He knew that they wouldn’t be there by
nightfall. The virus worked quickly – regressing age, reducing body mass,
reanimating dead flesh with a mechanical precision. The result had the capacity
to reason, to choose for good or ill, but simply lacked the compassion and
consideration that typically overrode the decision process and helped keep
society moving.
Michael reached his vehicle, and
slipped into the driver’s seat. Grabbing the radio, he sent off a report.
“Sioux City control, this is Michael Adser. I’m leaving the grounds now. We are
down three – I repeat, three. Over.”
Static crackled before a voice
responded. “10-4, Michael. I’m sorry. Come on back to base for your debriefing.
Over.”
“On my way. Over and out.” Michael
started the engine, taking only a melancholy moment to lament the loss of his
colleague and friend of ten years before shifting into drive and steering the
vehicle onto the empty road. The farmland had been quiet during the best of
times, now it was down-right abandoned. Only an occasional charred frame showed
that people had actually lived here. People
forced to torch their livelihood, simply to protect themselves from kids.
Michael shook his head ruefully at the thought. To think, that the opponent
would take the form of that most precious to society. The mockery it made of
traditional human values had already driven many over the brink of insanity.
Lost in his reverie, Michael didn’t
even see the figure in the back seat before it was too late. A hand pressed a
rag over his mouth, the sweet-and-sour aroma permeating his nostrils. Using his
last amount of consciousness, he steered the vehicle to a halt as he fought.
There were no trees around to ram, no brick walls to use as a catalyst for
Newtonian triumph, just endless cornfields that would be of no help. As he
slipped into the void, he was left with a single though. Is this how I die?
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