Detrimental: Chapter 1

Prologue

      In a lifetime, you will pass by a million different faces. You'll see tall faces, round faces, short faces, and small faces. You'll notice rare faces with jagged, diamond-like edges. Strict faces, soft faces, tense faces, eager faces, and blank faces will all pass by you in the blur of time. If you're lucky, you may even come across the face of a movie star. But for the most part, they don't register. For the most part, they are forgotten, like a kind gesture or a whisper of wind. But you cherish the faces of those you love. Their smile is like a prized possesion, a keepsake of your own only unlockable within the mind. When you think of them, the world is beautiful.

     That's exactly how I felt about her.

     My sister, Maryn, was beautiful. She was beautiful up until the moment she died, when the color drained from her perfect ivory skin and the putrid smell of death tainted her body. I remember her corpse perfectly. Her eyes, white and expressionless, taunted me. They were jeering at me, driving me to insanity, those white eyes, like shattering glass. Her lips, blue of course, looked like a split open seam. She bared her teeth as if she was challenging fate, this disease, or her own mortality. Or maybe a combination of the three. 

     Out of the two of us, I was always the strong one; I never showed any signs of fear. But that fateful day when I discovered Maryn's limp, lifeless body strewn across the bathroom floor, I went into shock. I took on a new, hideous form: cowering, paranoid creature who blatantly refused to speak with people in the fear that they would leave me in some way or another.They would all leave, I knew. It was bound to happen. The disease would rob us all; the disease would leave us bloated and blue and stacked up in rows. But it can't possibly be that simple, can it? After Maryn died, I wanted to take my own life. I finally saw the world for what it really was: a very temporary, mortal place. But no matter how many nights I stayed up crying in my room, no matter how many panic attacks I had, I refused to let myself die. And it was because for some reason, I had something to live for.

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

(Insert information about location and circumstance here)

     Heavy, acrid gun smoke spins words into the air. Give up, the black, billowy clouds hiss. There's too many of them. It's too late for you. But, despite it all, I'm running, sprinting, racing for my life in the dead of night. Behind me I hear the loud, mechanical whir of helicopters which threaten to slice my bones in half. They're waiting for me to get tired, I think to myself. They would have caught up to me by now. They're waiting for that split second, my moment of weakness, to seize me by the throat and with one swift action, drain the life out of me. Second by second, inch by inch, a repeating pattern. Methodical, like a spiral.

     But I wont let them. Sweat pours down my forehead in jagged lines which drops to the ground in a hot flurry. With each step, my lungs squeeze a little tighter and constrict all of my rational thought into a tiny ball. In my frantic state, I begin running in a slant direction towards the infinite darkness. Behind me, I hear Jesse's heavy panting and the stirring of his muscles. Suddenly, I can't breathe at all. I know he wont be able to keep up. No matter what his mind tells him, his body wont allow it.

"Jesse!" I call his name weakly through a mask of hot tears. "We're almost safe! Come on!" I slow my pace the slightest bit, but I can't will myself to a full halt. My ears pick up the ever-present threat of thudding military boots and shouts from the thronging crowd:

"Stop in the name of the United States Government!"

     Despite my uncontrollable wheezing, I stifle a bitter laugh. As if I would just stop dead in the road, drop my things, and let them carry me back to the laboratory. I've gotten this far; I will escape or die trying. Bullets whiz by, and their loud whistle sends a shock through my system. Yet I don't alter my pace. It's simply a scare tactic: If they kill me off, they wont have a use for me anymore.

     I make my way off the road and into a nearby field, where brush and fox-tail catch the back of my pants and threaten to reveal my location. They can hear me, I know, but they don't have the slightest clue as to where I am.

     As my pace gradually reaches a slow run, firecrackers go off in my chest. Everything in my body is surging, growing hot, and about ready to explode. Sweat beads coat the palms of my hands and swarm the rest of my body.

"Jesse!" I wail again, despite my unsuccessful results. I'm screeching now, crying, and carelessly giving away my location. Yet I don't care. I can't do this without him. Dogs bark in the distance: I imagine them flashing their glistening fangs through jutted purple lips. They're just waiting with pleasure to devour me whole. I realize that I'm now curled into a ball under the tall grass. As helicopters systematically churn the air, lights fan out into the sky and eventually reach my field. Systematically, I reflect on the word. That's how they are going to kill me: systematically. I feel myself choking, sputtering, and spouting out water: it's almost as if I have Stage 4 of the virus myself. The only difference is that my body isn't a sickly, spotted green. Yet.

     Several yards away, I hear footsteps, and I realize that they've finally caught up with me. And just like that, I'm lifted off the ground by some intense desire to live, and I'm flying through the grass, beyond sparse trees into what could be my oblivion. As I pick my way through the field, loud sirens blare, and sharp streams of light beat down on my pain-racked body. Behind me, I can no longer hear Jesse, and my chest starts to swell with panic.

"Jesse!" I scream for my life and his one more time into the night. After what feels like an eternity of running, I feel fingers graze my own. And then he's running beside me, chest puffed up, eyes dead-set, running himself into the ground. He knows that if he keeps this up, he will die. Yet he doesn't stop. All I'm thinking of is forward, forward, for my brain is on fire and I don't know how much longer I can will my legs.

     Will it be minutes? Hours? Days? Beside me, I notice Jesse panting hysterically. I see his body falter as his chest heaves with effort. And then the unthinkable happens. He stops.

"Jesse, what are you doing?" I shriek as loud as I possibly can, but it's scarcely audible due to the helicopters looming overhead. I watch a tall silhouete sink to the grass, body trembling violently, and I hear a loud "pop", but I can't turn around. My eyes are squeezed shut and flooded with tears. I have a split-second to make my choice.

     I know what I must do.