Patient Zero: Prologue

“I’ve got it, let's go, they're quiet now.” Mya whispered, fingers ghosting along the crease of my elbow as she searched for my wrist, shadows encasing us into a pit of darkness. Leaves crinkled from where she clutched them in her free hand, our hearts pounding in unison, to the beat of silence.

"Okay, okay." My breath eluded me, my body screaming at me to stop, stop, stop. Bruises spread across my torso in blossoms of rotten purple and rancid green from where the PCV pipe had hit me, just as painful as they looked. The gas mask wasn't making breathing any easier, choking off every gasp into a painful wheeze. I couldn't see Mya, but I could picture her concerned glance, espresso brown eyes darkened with worry.

"Mate, you good?" I nodded, letting her dexterous fingers wrap around my wrist, skin smooth and radiating warmth compared to my cold, clammy ones. A shiver wracked itself up my spine as she pulled us out of the janitor's closet we were hiding in, gaze sweeping the dirty linoleum, pale tiles covered in unidentifiable grime. Not that I particularly wanted to identify it...

"You see anything?" 

"Just that creepy ass skeleton in the corner."

A brief moment of silence, her eyes sliding to me in question, brow arched.

"Okay." I replied belatedly, smiling awkwardly at her. Each word was a sharp knife to the gut, angled to slot between my ribcage into my lungs with each breath, white-hot poker stabbed into my side with each movement. At this rate, I didn't think I was going to make it to the bunker.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're not lookin' too hot." I gasped in faux offense, features contorting into a pained wince at that simple movement.

"I'm always hot, thank you very much." I joked. One step forward, a wave of dizziness. Two steps forward, my legs shook with renewed vengeance. Three steps forward, my knees gave out beneath me. Falling, I couldn't help but let out a small gasp of shock, bringing up my hands to block my fall too late. The ground rose up to meet me, welcoming me into its cold, stone embrace with open arms. Rubbery concrete smashed into my cheek and everything faded to comforting black.

***

"—la. Kayla—" A warm hand gently smacked my cheek and the world snapped into focus with sickening swiftness.

"W-what? Why am I on the floor?" I struggled to sit up, wincing. I gingerly touched my side, skin mottled with bruises.

"You slammed into the pole, I was worried." The voice speaking to me was rich, filled with a warm amusement that didn't quite fit the situation. There was also a taint of underlying concern to it and I couldn't help but look up to gauge the authenticity of their emotions.

I was met with the sight of crystalline blue eyes, glowing with an ethereal light. Shaggy blonde hair, glittering strands of pure gold in the harsh light. Milky skin, dotted over with the occasional freckle and a strawberry birthmark on their left cheek in the vague shape of a painted box turtle. The fluorescent lights created a halo around their head, pulsing with power. 

I blinked and it was gone. It was just my nonbinary best friend, River, in all their messy blonde hair and blue eyed glory, birthmark still in the shape of a painted box turtle.

"Aww, you worried about me? How cute." Dryness coated each word and I swallowed heavily in a weak attempt to get rid of the cotton-y feeling.

"Shut up." They flushed crimson and stood up, rubbing the back of their neck and glancing down at me. The hallways were empty and there was a sense of wrongness clouding the air, something looming over the metaphorical horizon and thickening the air with tenseness. 

I didn't belong here.

I was supposed to be somewhere else.

Why did I not belong here?

This was...home...in the dictionary sense of the word yet I couldn't shake the feeling of pure and utter wrongness off.

Where was I supposed to be?