Episode 3: Outbreak

"Hey, Seth, lock the door when you leave, okay?" Tom called out, headed for the coroner's office to see what the hell John was rambling about.
Seth grunted in acknowledgment, he had begun to play with his butterfly knife and that took up almost all his concentration. Tom was surprised that Seth had even heard him. On the way to the morgue, Tom was hit by the worst of intuitive feelings. He couldn't shake the idea that the shit was really about to hit the fan.
After finally claiming a parking space in the crowded lot, Tom approached the door and pushed his full weight onto the bar. Realizing too late that the door was locked, Tom accidentally rammed his face into the Plexiglas. He looked through to the room beyond as he rubbed his nose. the lights were off and it wasn't even 3:30. Usually, if no one else was there, John could be found inside, doing some tidbit or another. Although, the strangest part of it all was that John had just called him a few minutes prior.
Shrugging it off as another strange part to a very strange day, Tom got back into his car and drove home. Upon entering, he found Seth on the couch, not an inch from where Tom had left him, staring out the window.
"You alright there, bud?" Tom said.
"Your neighbor's getting dressed."
"Oh no! Not old-lady Baker!" Tom joked, "I didn't know you were into that sort of thing, Seth."
"Not that one, the hot one with the huge... apartment."
"Oh, Anita, yeah she's John's sister. Which reminds me..." He trailed off, grabbing his phone from the coffee table, dialing several digits that he had memorized. "Hey, Anita... Yeah it's me, Tom. I was just wondering if John had called you within the past twenty minutes?... No?! Well, if he does, tell him I was looking for him... okay, thanks...M'bye."
"By the way, Tom," Seth looked inquisitive, "What happened at the morgue, you were only gone 10 minutes."
Tom threw his hands into the air. "That's the weird thing, I showed up and everyone was gone. Like, the lights were off and everything."
"Hey, if I didn't know any better, I'd say we were caught in some cheesy horror flick."
The two friends laughed at that thought. Seth soon got bored with conversation and suggested that they go see a movie or something before it got dark. Tom didn't understand what the quality of light had to do with anything, but he didn't push the issue. After all, this was the same guy that performed stand-up for lunch joints and country clubs during the day.
The two friends went to the theater and saw a really crappy remake of some movie about a giant gorilla that Tom couldn't remember the name of. Afterwards, they went and grabbed a bite to eat at a fast-food place down the block. The boring flick, combined with the hot, greasy food in their, now full, bellies gave the two the overwhelming urge to sleep. They went back to the apartment and Seth passed out on the couch. Tom still had just enough energy in his reserve to make it to his bed, and then he allowed himself to be seduced by the flowing tides of sleep.

*****

Seth awoke just as the sun rose over the skyline. He loved the sun, for several important reasons. First and foremost, Seth was a bit of what you might call a psychic. Although, he considered it more of an infernal curse than anything else. In the moonlight, Seth was able to see the way people were going to die. The sad part was that he was unable to turn it off. That was why he did all of his comedic work during the day. Seth had a great sense of humor, you had to when you were faced with this kind of horror or you'd lose it.

Set aside the obvious that he couldn't act normal let alone talk to someone that had a brain tumor bursting from their skull, and there was also the fact that most comedians worked at nightclubs, so he was probably the only one on call for daytime gigs in all of Chicago. That's right, for all the detriments his curse placed on him, the real reason he worked in the daylight was cold, hard economics. Seth did a lot of work with the elderly, and got casual dining restaurants crazy business, so he always got repeat customers. Seth never broke an appointment, it was against his nature.

But on this particular day, he couldn't bring himself to be comedic. There was just something in the air that told him this group he scheduled for today wouldn't get much use from him. So, he called the diner, told them he was really sick, couldn't make it and hoped to reschedule. Then, Seth went back to sleep on the couch. Eventually, he could no longer stave off lucidity. He sat up to the smell of Tom cooking breakfast. Now he remembered why he liked to sleep at Tom's place. Belgian waffles, scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and an ice-cold pitcher of OJ. Seth stood up and, in his very trademark manner, said: "What, no coffee?"

Tom shot him a venomous look, then said "Hurry, before the eggs get cold."

After breakfast the two friends commenced a large marathon video-game session. They covered the entire spectrum of gaming experiences by 6 o'clock.

"Hey, Tom," Seth said. "Let's go drinking, man."

"Why the hell not, we haven't gone in at least six months."

So, Tom and Seth made their way to a nice little bar just outside china-town called The Stone Table. They got three rounds in and began to spill the beans about their lives since the last time they had gone drinking together. Seth was thoroughly enjoying himself when the guy next to them stood up abruptly and walked out of the bar. Seth figured he and his companion were being obnoxious, so he started to speak with a softer tone, hoping his friend would catch on.

*****

Bud was sitting at the bar, enjoying his beer, when two yahoos came in and sat next to him, gettin' all loud. That made his whiskey taste like piss. He couldn't stand it when these pansy-ass little girls that call themselves men walked into his bar, thinkin' they're gettin' drunk offa' three shots of gin. Pussies. If he hadn't been on parole and on his second strike, he would've taken the two of them out back and shown them how to behave in his part of town.

So, as an alternative, he went out back and had a smoke. Bud looked around. No cops. That's what he liked about the Stone Table, you didn't have to worry about pigs pokin' in the wrong direction...a noise. From inside? No. There was a slight echo to it. It sounded like a scuffle.

Squinting his eyes against the dark, Bud strained to see down the long alley. Then, like a bat outta' Hell, some guy came rushin' into Bud's line of sight. He was tryin' ta say something, but he was bleedin' so bad from his neck that the words got turned into gurgles and slurps.

Four guys came out after him, moving a lot slower than their predecessor, but somehow, still keepin' up. The bloody guy fell about five yards short of Bud. Sucks for him, in this part of town, if you fall, you're fucked. The other four...God there was somethin' weird about the way they were moving...The other four descended on him and started to wrestling around with him. They must've been some real pieces of work, they had big hunks of skin fallin' offa' them, and they were stumblin' around like they were hopped up on PCP or something. That's probably what it is, he reasoned, They just got messed up and decided that this guy was lookin' at 'em funny.

Then, those sick motherfuckers started biting on the guy and chewin' on him. Bud dropped the cig out of his mouth without even noticing it.

He called out "Hey, what the fuck is your problem. What the Hell are you doin' to him?!"

The closest one looked up at him with eyes that were deader'n a doornail. The sick fuck bared his teeth and jumped impossibly from the ground to Bud's throat. He managed to bring up a forearm just in time to absorb the bite. He pulled the freak off his arm and a chunk of flesh came off with him. He said a silent prayer for the poor sonofabitch that these bastards targeted first and ran back to the bar, trying to cut off the blood, that asshole got him good...real good.