Degeneration (61 page)

             
Richard leaned over the metallic institutional sink and stared into the mirror, smiling.

             
“It’s about time you got here, brother, I was beginning to worry,” Andy’s reflection said.

             
“I told you I’d come for you. I’d never let you down,” Richard said.

             
Andy looked away.

             
“I let
you
down once, though,” Andy said, quietly. “That’s why I was worried you wouldn’t come save me. You… remember that day in the kitchen…”

             
Richard winced.

             
“You remember, don’t you? Of course you do. It’s all I ever think about,” Andy said, pain evident in his voice.

Yes, Richard remembered it all.

It was dead and its blood covered his hands.

             
Stacy saw everything. He had to do it because she saw too much.

             
She was supposed to be over with friends, but she came home early. She saw him do it.

             
It was the cat. She saw him kill another fucking stray cat.

“A stray cat?” Andy laughed. “No, it wasn’t a
cat
she saw me kill. Remember? She saw me kill you.”

Andy winced again and swirled away from the mirror. He backed out of the cell and clinched his hands over his face, shutting his eyes tightly.

His brother, Richard, was always the spoiled one, always the normal one. Whatever Richard wanted, he got, unlike Andy…

Richard had a wall full of trophies. He was a rising star. His trophies brought him fame and admiration from mom and dad.

Andy’s trophies were all buried in the backyard and hidden in alleyways. If he displayed his grotesque trophies of mutilated animal carcasses, he’d be put away in an institution.

Mom and dad always knew that he was different, but they never knew just how different, except for Stacy, of course; she saw him kill a cat once. Ever since she witnessed a snippet of the real him, the hidden him, she feared him.

Secretly, Andy always wanted to be normal like his younger brother. He always harbored a strange feeling though…

At first, he thought it was simply jealously. Then that day in the kitchen happened…

His parents were at the store and his sister was out with her friends. He stood at the counter, making a ham sandwich.

Richard walked into the kitchen. His uniform was still dirty from practice. He sat at the kitchen table, trailing mud into the house.

“Hey, make me one too,” Richard told Andy, yawning.

Andy frowned and continued to slowly slather mayonnaise on his sandwich, staring down at the knife.

Richard stared at him.

“Uh, did you hear me, dingus?” Richard asked.

Andy kept smearing mayonnaise and sighed. Whatever Richard wanted, he got. He always thought the strange emotion he harbored for Richard was jealousy.

Richard, annoyed, stood up and stomped over to Andy.

“I don’t know why you have to be such a freak sometimes,” Richard said as he reached for some bread to make his own sandwich.

Andy screamed, spun around, and slid the mayonnaise-smeared knife deep into his brother’s chest.

It was then, at that very moment, that Andy realized it was not jealousy he felt, but, rather, pure hatred.

He hated him for being everything that he would never be.

He hated him for stealing his parent’s affection.

He hated him and his fucking trophies.

He hated how cruel he treated him.

He hated how he talked down to him.

He hated him.

He hated him.

He hated him.

             
As he harbored that hatred, meditated on it, Andy stabbed Richard in the chest, again… and again… and again…

He turned and saw that his sister had walked into the kitchen.

She saw everything, and this time it was more than just a stray cat. He had to do something…

             
Andy collapsed onto his knees outside his old prison cell, defeated. He stared down at the polished concrete floor, staring into nothingness. All around him, the infected clamored against their cell doors, snarling, screaming.

             
Richard’s ghost had haunted his mind ever since that day, so had the crushing guilt. He could never escape the guilt that he
enjoyed
killing his brother. He would have killed him a thousand-times over if he could.

The guilt was more of a prison than any physical fortress could hope to be.

The ironic part of it all is that Richard never would have bothered to rescue his brother; he always was a self-absorbed asshole.

In all honestly, he probably wouldn’t even fucking care.

             
Andy slowly stood and wandered into the middle of the housing unit, moving at a snail’s pace. As he walked, the skylight’s shattered out and the sound the helicopter hovering overhead became deafening.

Glass pelted down all around him.

             
Andy stopped walking, slid the pistol out from underneath his belt, and stared at it a moment.

Four soldiers in white-suits fast-roped down into the housing unit through the shattered skylights.

Andy tucked the pistol’s barrel underneath his chin and closed his eyes.

             
Before Andy could wrap his finger around the trigger, taser barbs stuck into his back and he was quickly incapacitated by a massive electric shock.

             
As he lay twitching on the concrete floor, one of the soldiers ran to him and injected him with a syringe.

             
Andy’s world spun as he slowly drifted off.

41

             
A
ndy’s eyes briefly fluttered open and he found himself lying on an uncomfortable cot. His body was restrained against it by thick nylon straps and he had multiple IV tubes running into his left arm. The sound of airplane turbines was deafening. Struggling, he raised his head and glanced around.

             
A clear plastic tent had been erected around him and white-suited soldiers stared at him from the other side, talking amongst each other. He glanced to the side and saw the night sky through the plane’s circular porthole windows.

             
He was on a cargo plane, a rather large one judging by the sound of the engines.

             
Vertigo overtook him and he laid his head back down.

             
Before he slipped back into unconsciousness, he looked over at the long rack of IVs and watched as they fed their drug-laced drips into him.

             
Andy fell back asleep, drool dribbling out from the corner of his mouth.

Day 5

42

             
T
he prattling of the television roused Andy out of his drug-induced sleep. He found himself lying in a hospital bed, strapped down. He weakly raised his arm as high as he could and stared at the numerous IV tubes feeding into it. Slowly, he looked around his hospital room.

             
The room was strange. It had no décor and appeared heavily sanitized. The walls, ceiling, and monitoring equipment were all white and reflected the harsh lights overhead. A television was mounted on the wall at the foot of his bed. The room’s door was steel and the hinges were hydraulic. Next to his bed, there was a long window.

             
Andy glanced out the window but the bright sun gave him a piercing headache and he had to look away. He briefly made out a city skyline and he could hear the ambient background noise of a normal hustle and bustle of a busy metropolis outside.

             
The news was playing on TV.

He tried to watch it, but his head pounded and his vision constantly blurred in-and-out of focus. The bright images on the television hurt his eyes, so he closed them and just listened.

             
“–in an undisclosed location while Texas’ interim governor pushes ahead with the succession of the state, despite the UN’s objections. In Denver, William D. Yorkton, Secretary of Energy, was hastily sworn in earlier today in accordance with the United States’ order of presidential succession. His
incumbent
, Patricia West, number fourteen on the presidential succession list and former Secretary of Transportation, was
sequestered
and forcibly removed from office by the Secret Service after falling victim to the–”

             
The voice on the television disappeared as Andy fell under the spell of medication-induced sleep once again.

Day 6

43

             
A
ndy’s eyes slowly opened and he felt a sense of clarity. He tried to move, but found himself still strapped to the hospital bed. He looked at his arm and saw that less IV’s were in his arm and he took that as a good sign.

             
He lifted his head up and stared at the TV, but the screen simply read ‘Stand By… Acquiring Satellite Signal’.

             
He looked over at the window and saw that it was beautiful outside. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and the streets were full of busy commuters. Judging by the view, he knew he had to be at least ten stories high. Staring at the skyscrapers outside, he recognized the Bank of America Plaza, the SunTrust Plaza, the One Atlantic Center tower, and the Westin Peachtree Plaza.

             
Something above him whirled.

             
He looked up at ceiling and noticed the camera for the first time.

             
The door’s hydraulics released and it slowly opened.

             
A doctor wearing a self-contained white-suit walked into the room.

             
“Good morning, Andy, how are you feeling since we talked yesterday?” the white-suit asked as he sauntered over to check on Andy’s vitals.

             
“Where am I? You never told me yesterday,” Andy muttered, hoarse.

             
“You’re safe, which is a major accomplishment considering where we found you,” the white-suit responded as he entered some information into the computer next to Andy’s bed. “You are in a secured room inside the Center for Disease Control and Prevention’s headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia. My name is Dr. Gladstone, chief virologist on this floor.”

             
“How long have I’ve been here?” Andy asked.

             
“Two days, but we should have you out of here soon,” Dr. Gladstone said.