(Update: 5/20/18 - The entire chapter has been revamped | Update 12/16/19 - Revamped Chapter 1 yet again.)

(Tips: Read in dark font with any instrumental soundtrack you see fit.)

(Content Warning: This season has themes of suic*de.)

The geography lesson might be a little boring, but trust that it will be integral to understand and anticipate what's at stake.

New York City: The overpriced and culturally rich city that harbored millions of people from various parts of the world. There was so much to NYC that made it what it was—public transportation, the city skyscrapers, the 24-hour drive-thrus, the undying cars that sped around past midnight, and the exposure to so many faces that walked the streets. Being a resident, there was so much to welcome and appreciate, just as much as there was to underrate and loathe: the infectious rats & unwarranted pigeons, late-night muggings, rowdy teenagers, and discourteous pedestrians that yelled at you for accidentally stepping on their shoes. But all in all, it's what enriched NYC into the big apple. Unlike plenty of other cities, NYC was broken up into five different boroughs: Manhattan, Brooklyn, Bronx, Staten Island, and Queens. Manhattan was where all the money was. It's where all of the top-paying jobs were located including some of the greatest colleges. It was also the golden gate for tourist attractions.

Brooklyn and The Bronx weren't exactly known for its great reputation like Manhattan was. The two were typically stereotyped for its violence and inevitable gentrification, but it still had a great cultural history to it and many natives did what they could to uplift their community's atmosphere for at-risk youth. Staten Island was pretty self-explanatory. It was the one borough that others felt was isolated from the four other districts. Some would even argue that it wasn't even considered a district at all. Ultimately, the wealthiest people usually live here. Queens was probably the keenest combination of the other four burrows into one. It was the largest borough of all, but everything about it was plenty mediocre. The houses were decent as well as the people. Queens was the primary source of NYC's diverse and rich culture. Even though people rathered sticking to their own ethnic groups, people from all over congregated in Queens. There were over one hundred spoken languages and it had the second-highest population. While that was the kind of representation for any resident in Queens to have sinful pride in, there was more to Queens than the many interesting people the dwelled within.

Deep within, on the furthest part of southern-east Queens, there was something small and arguably insignificant. Something that others would consider meaningless among the many notable things that surrounded it: A small family. A family that lived in a relatively nice, middle-class neighborhood often considered an "urban" community despite its average household income. However, today was going to be a day where things that normally measured people's importance was about to become meaningless because their lives and the lives of every other New Yorker was about to change forever.

People may agree to disagree on whether or not NYC's population was something to brag about—in a sense where anything minimal, positive or negative, had the potential to affect hundreds. So what if something really terrible happened—something astronomical? Could it be an asset or a liability? That's something we're about to find out.

Pandora Chadwell was an independent mother in her early fifties. Head of her household. She was a woman born and raised on a small island in the West Indies and moved to America in hopes of finding the rumored 'American dream' for herself and, at the time, planned family. She was biracial, being half Afro-Caribbean and half Native, having a father indigenous to the people of her home country. She had straight, shoulder-length, jet black hair, and warm ochre brown skin. She wasn't ethnically ambiguous, therefore she shared subtle features that still read as Black—or as politically correct others said—African American. More suitable for someone her age, she was small-boned, possessed an average frame with wide hips, thighs, and stood around five feet, four inches. Lastly, she had a noticeably mild accent, which her American children, all except one, never developed.

Life, in general, wasn't an easy journey for anyone. Both back home and in America, Dora had her run-ins with some pretty shitty men in her life, and the father of her last two children was the reason she decided to call it quits with searching for a reliable partner. As much as America preached it, there were discrepancies on how you were treated based on many things like skin color, gender, and creed, but there was nothing much a middle-aged immigrant mother could do. She often wondered what her life would look like if those things truly didn't matter. Up until that point, Dora decided that all she needed to rely on were her family, pets included, and her undying faith in God.

Even after a long day at work, her job as a mother was never put on pause. She was in the kitchen, standing over four hot pots of food. Today was one of those days where she felt like cooking a full course meal. She took pride in her cooking. She was one out of ten children and it was almost standard that women knew how to cook from a young age, especially during the time and place in which she grew up. However, coming to America, she realized that such models were something of the past and having children in this country meant having them build their own identity based on the life they experience.

Dora wasn't exactly thrilled with the outcome of her children because she felt she failed at instilling the uttermost important thing in her children and that was an everlasting acceptance and belief of God as their one and only father. For as long as she could remember, the bible was essentially a school textbook and everything had to be about him. Just as the bible taught, it was a parent's responsibility to teach children the same values and it was something she would never stop trying to accomplish.

Her oldest was in graduate school, currently studying for his Ph.D. in science. Science and God together? His mind was pretty much made up the second his major whispered itself into his ear. Her second-born decisively eloped with her high school sweetheart soon after graduation. She ended up joining the military, started a family of her own and had relocated so many times that Dora could barely list all of them. Finally, the last two were both high school seniors and were probably the most vocal and rebellious and still lived at home. They were respectful but were raised in the generation where they believed you had to challenge everything you thought was a double standard. So the 'teachings of the pastor' were definitely something they double-teamed Dora over.

With the way her children had turned out, it was all a part of the unanticipated journey of adolescence and adulthood and she was glad to say that the children of today had a bit more free will than she and others did as a child. Because of them, they also helped mold her into the more open-minded individual she was today. Overall, Dora was proud to say that they were all productive children in society and that she undeniably compared other children to her own, especially the children of her siblings—many of which were back in her home country.

Dora dabbed her forehead with a damp cloth and glanced over at the radiant green numbers of the digital clock built into the oven. It was past four o'clock in the evening and that was the time her last two usually came out of school. Her daughter did best academically and had a full ride to Berkley in hopes of majoring in psychology. She was a bit more disciplined, so her straight-A grades enabled her to finish classes earlier and give her enough time to get to work, which was only a good walking distance from school. But for some odd reason, Dora couldn't get in touch with her.

Giving her arm a break from tirelessly stirring her pots of baked beans, gravy, and other concoctions, she reached for her smartphone sitting on the kitchen counter. Browsing through her contacts, she selected her youngest son's name: Jolyn. Using her shoulder to hold the phone up to her ear, she concentrated on her cooking once again, removing her pork ribs from the oven. After multiple rings, Jolyn finally answered just before it could get to voicemail.

"Hello?" She was happy to hear his voice safe and free from distress on the other line,

"Jolyn?" Dora said charismatically. She always had a natural projection that he often found annoying, "Hi!" she practically squealed in his ear.

"Yeah, mom?" Jolyn answered, unaware that he had winced. The tone of his voice indicated that he was already eager to get off the phone with her, as all teenagers usually did unless you were their high school friends or crush, "What is it?"

She knew she had to make it quick or else she'd either forget what she called for or Jolyn would come up with an excuse to hang up earlier,

"Is Ada with you?" she finally got around to it. Removing her oven mitts, she tossed them onto the counter. This time, holding her phone up with her hand, "I've been texting her all afternoon and I've gotten not one response for her, nah?" Dora said.

'Nah' was an expression a lot of West Indians used. It wasn't used as the alternative answer for 'no' or to decline something; the West Indian version was like a verbal question mark and it was exclaimed at the end of a sentence when the user was especially desperate for a clear answer.

"Well, she texted me after sixth period and said she was heading to work," Jolyn confirmed. Even though he was sure that his sister was fine, it still never hurt to be too sure. Jolyn was slightly more drawn into the conversation than he was just a second ago and thought long and hard for a reasonable explanation to prevent him and his mother from going on the verge of panic. When it finally clicked, he was sure of the reason, "I don't know, maybe it had something to do with your argument over her hair yesterday?" He responded sarcastically, "Mom, I gotta go."

"Jolyn—"

Dora listened in, hearing Jolyn burst into sudden laughter with a group of other teenage voices that existed within a vacuum. Dora could hear one of them swear like a sailor but shrugged it off, understanding that teenagers will be teenagers. After all, she unrealistically convinced herself that her son would never use such profanity even if he socialized with others who did. After he hung up, she tried calling her daughter one last time. The phone rang off the hook until it went straight to voicemail,

"Hey! You've reached Ada. Just leave a message and I'll try to get back to you!"

"Ada. I called you six times already. Six! I need to know if you're okay. Call me back when you get the chance, okay? Please!"

She ended the call just before the voicemail could record the smoke alarm. She placed down her phone, grabbed her mitts and ran over to the stove to lower the fire. Seeing that she was finally finished cooking, she turned off the stove & oven and decided to walk into the living room and relax. She just couldn't figure out why she was cooking for two American brats who rarely showed their appreciation for a mother who had to work twice as hard to get where they were in life. Having a plate of food on the table was a luxury that even most New Yorkers—hell, Americans, didn't get to have.

Jolyn was the last child who took physical traits heavily after his father with some of his mother's look blended in here and there. Usually, a parent is harder on their daughters, but Dora could always tell Jolyn was a bit different the moment she laid eyes on him in the delivery. He was a very quiet and sensitive boy in his younger years and because of that, he was overprotected. He became a reserved and aloof child, and he only opened up to people he became really close with. Naturally, he was very open-minded and creative. He was tall, very thin and had a charming face that he was wildly unimpressed by. Rarely, did he ever feel confident. His skin was a mild sepia color, having a bit of a reddish undertone if you looked closely. Due to the ancestry on his mother's side and whatever was on his father's, Jolyn possessed features that either made him pass off as Indian, Black or an ambiguous mix of both. Depending on who was looking at him. He identified as Black and even if it was all he saw when he looked in the mirror, he acknowledged how he was perceived by others and how it affected the way he was treated as opposed to others. He possessed bright, deep dark brown eyes, a mini afro with many curls similar to that of a sheep's...so he's heard before. It wasn't the first comparison he'd accept but it was one of the most accurate ones he had ever heard of.

Every day after school Jolyn would spend some time with his beloved clique of friends. Even if they luckily shared the same lunch period, they just couldn't get enough of one another. They were people he knew and spoke to every now and then throughout high school but some greater force brought them closer together during their senior year of high school. There were about seven of them and Jolyn made the eighth. They were gathered at the park that was only a couple of minutes away from their high school.

While the rest of his friends were on the swing sets or on their phones, Jolyn spoke privately with one of his photogenic friends, Sanjeet. They both sat across from one another on green park benches. Like all the stone tables at the park, theirs was ingrained with a chessboard. However, they had no plans to pay attention to it,

"Yo, have you ever smoked weed before?" Sanjeet randomly sparked.

Jolyn looked at him appalled, which encouraged an immature snort from his friend. Jolyn to preach about how he would never do drugs and how he felt nearly superior because he never used a substance before. Sanjeet's smirk remained plastered on his face because as nice as it sounded, it was far from the truth. He reminded Jolyn of the time they all cut school that one day to drink alcohol in the park. Jolyn, who failed at containing his blushes, reverted to a grimace.

"Yeah," Jolyn shrugged, "But alcohol's different."

"Different?!" Sanjeet objected, "How so?"

"Because alcohol isn't a drug!" Jolyn responded, sounding so sure.

Jolyn usually had a serious case of thinking he knew all the answers when he actually didn't and what he was about to learn might have made him view himself differently and hopefully it wouldn't be too damaging to himself personally,

"Eh, technically it is…" Sanjeet turned and looked over at one of their friends, Deeva. She wasn't exactly a nerd or anything but she was just one of those individuals who knew random facts about certain things, "Isn't it?"

"It is. A recreational one," Deeva educated.

Sanjeet wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed and had nothing to offer but good looks. So getting one over Jolyn was like a victory—something that Jolyn's friends would probably tease them about later. Sanjeet gloated on and on about what was probably the only correct thing he's said the entire semester. He playfully rubbed it Jolyn's face and proceeded to motions his arms and hands in the air like he just won a game of Family Feud.

"Drinking alcohol has ethanol and is a depressant, remember?" Deeva recalled for both of them, "We learned that in first-period chem?"

"I must've missed that class," Jolyn recoiled in embarrassment, not only disappointed by the contrary but by his performance in Chemistry as well, "I always miss Chem."

Suddenly, another one of their friends, Stefani, came hurtling along with three others. She momentarily fought off her companions as they eagerly reached for her phone to show as well. Once they calmed after giving them a few glares of repulsion, Stefani announced that her cousin in California sent them a leaked video of some controversial conspiracy video. They all instantly huddled around one another. Some had a hard time trying to get a good view from certain angles, peaking over or under other's heads,

"Oh my god, is he biting him!?" One friend couldn't believe, covering her mouth in shock.

Others continuously voiced their disgust with the video, seriously sickened by whatever it was they were watching. And although Jolyn stood a few inches taller than most of his other friends, it was difficult for him to see anything with the unpredictable movements from his companions. Pausing halfway through the video, Stefani considerably forwarded the videos to every single one of them whatever way she could—whether it was through text messaging or social media. Before they knew it, they were individually watching on their own phones. Jolyn was unaware of what was going on in everyone else's mind but what Jolyn saw was unbelievable.

The leaked footage showed an incident that happened in the middle of a Los Angeles freeway and was filmed from multiple perspectives. It was filmed from helicopters, from occupants that lived in the apartments nearby, or from cars that were ten feet away to cars that were 30 feet away. Regardless, each piece of footage showed something consistent: It was a dead person's body laid out on a stretcher...at least that's what it seemed. An EMT in the footage, however, reached over the body when the corpse suddenly attacked. It was hard to tell from the pixelated footage, but it looked as if the supposedly dead person was brutally biting into the EMT's neck. That being said, blood wasted no time in making itself present,

"What the hell…" Sanjeet said, squinting his eyes as if they were playing tricks on him, "That's gotta be bath salts or something."

"Oh please, that isn't real," one of the girls responded putting her phone back into her pocket.

"Who are you to say it isn't?" Another friend answered, "Cannibals exist, don't they? Wasn't there something like this before where that guy ate another guy's face off?"

"Yeah!" Sanjeet's face glowed, "And he was on bath salts! I remember that."

"Oh please..." another voice carried on as it faded to the outskirts of Jolyn's mind. He focused on the video and the voices of his friends faded into soft echoes that sounded like they were distancing themselves miles off in a tunnel. They were basically being tuned out each time he replayed a specific part where the victim was being shot multiple times in the chest. He sustained the injuries, having little to no effect. The strange man would stagger backward and just keep walking onward if he were unstoppable. Jolyn scrubbed the video back over and over again until he played it about nine times, studying the floundering walk of the man in the video. The weird and strangest part of all was that although he was walking like a human, there was strangely no sign of life in him. Until there was a final gunshot to the head, the victim finally fell to the pavement. And just as the gunshot went off another time...

BLAM! One of Jolyn's friends slammed their palm on the table, yelling Jolyn's name simultaneously. He jumped, nearly dropping his phone. All of his friends laughed at how easily spooked he was. He, however, was the only one unamused. Truthfully, he looked like he wanted to cry. He flashed a cheap smile afterward before it vanished,

"C'mon, man, that isn't funny," Jolyn said, quite irritated.

"Calm down," one friend, who voiced their skepticism, said, "You weren't actually bugged by that video are you?"

"Don't you think it's all weird? People randomly falling sick and stuff. Barely anyone showed up to school today…" Stefani reminded, being the only one who didn't put the validity of the video behind her.

"So you're saying you think it's real?" Sanjeet questioned, mounting his eyebrows with a hint of inquisitiveness.

Well, it can't just be a coincidence? Jolyn thought as his friend chattered. Jolyn readjusted his attention back to his cellphone and did an immediate quick search on the internet. As a teenager in the golden age of technology, you were lured into inauspicious things like Alice down the rabbit hole. Conspiracies were something that Jolyn had a keen interest in before slowly weaning himself off of it in his senior years. The interest in government conspiracy theories came from a place of doubt and fear, because somewhere deep down, people never really trusted their government. People used it either to cope with fear or to give themselves reassurance; others used it as a scare tactic and for propaganda. Especially when your government had a knack for showing its ass for the past hundred years.

He remembered accidentally coming across niche threads like these all over the internet; where people spoke about reanimation linked to testbeds. Chemical warfare. Bioterrorism. It was far beyond Jolyn's comprehension but he remembered always chatting online to a kid named Tobias, someone who also mentioned living in LA. At this point, the video became a viral and trending topic, with verified proof of the actual traffic backup on the Los Angeles news. The only thing that had not been confirmed was the shooting incident, probably to avoid a huge scare. Jolyn immediately put his phone in his pocket and dismissed himself from his friends' conversation,

"Well, I'm gonna go," Jolyn stood up, grabbing his bag, "Got a big dinner to eat and I gotta finish that book report that I haven't started yet."

His friends waved goodbye, finding it a little odd that he was the first to leave when he was usually the last to ever want to go home and be with family.

Adaline was Jolyn's fraternal twin sister and she was older by only eight minutes. She was mature and no-nonsense. Although she was very responsible, she knew how to unwind and socialize when the time was right. She was thin and gorgeous but completely devoid of cockiness, therefore she understood that she wasn't everyone's cup of tea and always valued her judgment and social stance over her looks. She shared subtle features like her brother: Same skin tone with mildly visible freckles around her nose and eyes. She got most of her mother's looks with a few of her father's and was more readable as Black. She possessed full lips, a cute nose and straightened hair that fell a little bit past her shoulders.

Her style was unique and it always had something to do with how others perceived her. Frankly, it was currently the reason why her and mother weren't currently on such good terms. She had recently dyed her hair rose-gold, still blended in with her natural dark-brown roots. She wasn't punk, goth or a part of any kind of fashion fad. She just rathered standing out. She was so sick of people conforming just to be accepted in society and this was her way of rebelling or telling people "look at me, im different." People could argue that it was obnoxious and pretentious, but she was completely oblivious to it.

Ada worked at a local babysitting center by school. She was somewhat of an activist, prioritizing human rights, especially that of women, people of color, and people who lived in third-world countries. It, in some way, linked to why she had such a soft spot for younger children. Through her very limited experiences, she's met and come across people who just needed some care and mentorship their whole life, and she felt that she could at least try to be that type of person starting at the daycare center. She sat at one of the smaller tables, smiling and enjoying the company with one of the children who was drawing a portrait of themselves and Ada,

"Is that me and you?" Ada inquired the young artist. After the little girl nodded, Ada giggled with full flattery, "You made me look so pretty and even made the hair the right color, Celine!"

Carlos, one of Ada's coworkers and former classmate, exited the daycare's office. He was a tall and arguably attractive Filipino boy who graduated from high school last year. What started off as an innocent question about homework, evolved into daily chit chats in the hallways, and then eventually something more. Never did Ada imagine that in a million years that their relationship would be where it was now. However, most doubts came from Ada's presumptions that a man of his type could never be attracted to her. And neither did he once upon a time. But it all changed once he got to know her and it taught him a valuable lesson about what truly makes someone fall in love.

Minding his own business, he walked into the living room and changed the channel on the television. Catching the evening news was something Carlos did on the daily. Momentarily, Ada looked away from Celine's drawing, and as the television drew her attention. Her smile slowly faded as she made out the headline that read 'Mass Deaths Recorded Across U.S. From Unknown Virus'. A person could only imagine what thoughts had to be going through one's mind after reading such a startling thing,

"Can you turn up the volume...please?" Ada politely entreated. Doing as requested, Carlos' hand searched for the remote, unable to remove his eyes from the mounted television. He sat close to Ada and Celine's toddler table in a separate chair suitable for adults. Ada's eyes widened as the news appeared to be a lot worse than it sounded, "That's scary. Do you think it has something to do with why only five kids showed up at the daycare today?" Ada looked over her shoulder.

"Could be…" Carlos looked at Ada from the side and could identify her anxiousness by the shaking of her leg. He reached over and rested his palm on her thigh prompting it to stop moving. She looked up at him feeling as if he was reading every thought and emotion that raced through her mind, "Go ahead and call her, okay? Go ahead, I'll be here to watch Celine and Max."

Ada nodded and wasted no time in grabbing her phone from the table. She strolled into the daycare's kitchen which was set up beside the living area and almost appeared as a school kitchen. As she unlocked her phone screen, she saw the notifications of eight missed calls and three unopened text messages—text messages she initially ignored and forgot to get back to. Without a second's thought, she returned her mother's call and rested by the kitchen sink. No more than two rings, Dora answered in no time,

"...Hey, mom," Ada greet.

"Ada, I was calling you all day, what happened?" her mom's frantic voice excelled.

"Sorry, I…" Ada rested her palm on her forehead and quickly thought of some excuses, "I was probably busy. Maybe I was on the train," she lied. She was never on the train. The daycare center from school was walking distance and the only time she ever took the train was when she was coming straight home, "You know there's no service underground."

"Okay, what was I calling to tell you again?" Dora said, attempting to recall her reason for calling, "Right! I cooked some pork ribs for you and Jolyn, so there's a plate of food waiting for you on the table."

"Okay, mommy. Thank you," Ada said, clearing her throat. She glanced over at the television from where she stood, nervously rocking back and forth on the sink counter. She thought long and hard about apologizing to her mom about the argument they had the previous day, but Ada had a pridefulness about her that wouldn't easily let her succumb to defeat, even if it was her own mother, "H-how are you feeling? Are you feeling okay?" She looked over at the television and turned away after seeing an older gentleman, in a translucent oxygen mask and on a stretcher, being loaded onto an ambulance, "Are you feeling sick or anything?"

"No. I'm just tired, but other than that, I feel fine. Why?"

"Are you watching the news?"

"Well, yes."

Ada paused. Her mother was always watching the news, so the question was redundant,

"What do you make of all of it?"

A paused told Ada that Dora was obviously doing some thinking,

"Maybe it's like the swine flu scare that we had last year."

"No, mommy," Her voice softened, to avoid alarming the others—mainly the children, in the next room, "This is different. They're saying people are dying in masses. I feel like something's wrong. Barely anyone showed up in school today, there have been tons of missing posters, and only five parents brought their kids to the daycare center. More kids showed up during that scary blizzard we had earlier this year."

"Well, that is a bit unusual..." Dora said, growing worried from her daughter's discomfort, "But it's nothing to worry about. You'll be okay. Just...come home right away after work, okay?"

"Yeah…"

"Okay, bye, Ada."

"Bye. Love you, mom."

"Love you, too," she said. Just as Ada prepared to put her phone away, she stared at her phone and realized that her mother hadn't ended the call as she usually did after a phone conversation. After a brief moment, Ada could hear her mother's voice calling her name, "Ada?" Just to be sure Ada brought the phone back to her ear very cautiously and responded. A notable breath was heard, "I'm sorry for saying such mean things about your hair. And I respect your choice to color it that way."

"Thanks, mommy," Ada smiled.

Finally, the call was ended. She rested her phone on the counter beside the sink, wet her hands and splashed some water onto her face. Her mom may have assisted a little in calming them, but her nerves were still present. Reaching over to grab a paper towel, she nearly shouted at the sight of Carlos spying on her from the corner of her eye. He was leaning on the refrigerator that was closest to the doorway. She covered her mouth and let out a nervous chuckle as he laughed with her. She held her chest and let out a huge sigh,

"Sorry about that," he said, flashing the appealing smile that won over her attention, "Sounds like that went well," Carlos pushed himself off the refrigerator and playfully prowled towards her. Once they were face-to-face, he looked down at her and linked his arms around her waist, pressing his body against hers,

"Either one of you apologize?" He said, sounding more sensual than usual.

"She did...surprisingly," Ada said, still confounded by it. At this point, the two of them were basically prom-dancing while just talking to one another. To show a bit of consideration, Ada changed the topic. She reached up and brushed his hair back, "How's your mom?"

Carlos looked somewhat displeased by the mention of his mom,

"Texted her. She said she's fine but she hasn't really been up to much other than being depressed ever since dad died. Seeing her like that just frustrates me sometimes," His unfavorable thoughts of her was like a black cloud over his head and he pretty much stopped engaging. Instead of drifting around the kitchen, they were now sunken in one place. With his arms still wrapped around her, Ada could see that his eyes were looking far into the less painful days of his past. Even though she wasn't being seen at the very moment, she was understanding enough to excuse it. He let out a harrowing sigh, "He was my dad. You don't see me giving up on everyone."

"Just give her time," Ada suggested, hoping not to be overstepping, "He was your dad, but she's still his wife. She's known him her entire life and when something like that is just...forcefully taken away from you, I can't even imagine what that's like,"

Riveted and most appreciative of her words, Carlos leaned in and gave Ada a soft peck on the lips. Their smooch was rather passionate but Ada cut it short, taking the company of the children very seriously. She accepted one last kiss from Carlos and he tightly hugged her before returning to the dining area to monitor Max and Celine. Peering at them through the open space in the kitchen, Ada proceeded to read her disregarded text messages from her brother.

Hey, where are you? Mom's been calling you all day was the first message sent at 4:10 PM.

The second message, probably sent around an hour later was the link to a video that was supposedly grabbing attention across the globe. After confirming she received his texts, she did exactly as told.

Over time, Ada and Carlos were the last two at the daycare center. When the time came, it was routine to clean up the rooms and lock the place down for the night. Since there was a lack of rugrats today, there wasn't much tidying up to complete. What normally would be an hour of endless vacuuming and nitty-gritty carpet scrubbing, was only a few pickups and two-minute vacuuming. Before Carlos and Ada knew it, they were already headed for the exit. Ada was the first to walk out and noticed a hooded figure that definitely matched Jolyn's thin frame. He near the beginning of the ramp that mazed towards the daycare's porch, leaning on its black railing.

"Jolyn?" Ada called, getting no answer. She called him a second time, getting no answer. She leerily watched his shoulders and head slowly sway back and forth in the same motion continuously. She studied him, wondering what on earth could have him in an exclusively different state. After everything that had been happening for the past few weeks, Ada was on edge. She identified the graphics on his shirt from the back, immediately recognizing it as his clothing, "Jolyn!" Ada called again, this time more sternly.

Still, there was no reaction from him. Ada nervously looked back at Carlos as he was the last to exit and proceed to lock up the daycare center. She walked ahead and slowly made her way down the ramp. She stopped midway just before exiting, standing in the spot where Jolyn's back was turned. She reached forward and poked his shoulder. Startled, he quickly jumped around and revealed headphones pushed into his small ears. Rolling her eyes, she yanked them out by the cord and tossed them over his shoulder like one would a beach towel. Basically relieved, Ada tucked one side of her hair behind her ear,

"Why do you love doing that?" Ada asked,

"Doing what?"

"Having those headphones so loud? I was calling you and you weren't even aware," Ada made gestures and motions with her hands, "I thought something was wrong with you. What if I was a guy with a shank or something?"

"A shank?" Jolyn made a face, "What is this? A daycare for ex-convicts?"

"Seriously, Jolyn," Ada groaned, their voiced beginning to overlap.

"'Kay, sorry, mom. Geez," Jolyn leaned over to get a glance at Carlos over Ada's shoulder, "Hey, Carlos!" He waved.

"Hey, Jolyn. Sup?"

"Just came to pick up your mistress."

Ada slapped him in the chest with the back of her palm. She made her way down the ramp and was now standing on the sidewalk with her brother,

"Carlos, I'm gonna take the bus home with Jolyn instead," she informed while looking back.

"You sure you don't need a ride home?"

"Uh...?" Jolyn interrupted with his hand up, "We'd very much like a ride home!" Jolyn answered for Ada.

She forcefully made him do an about-face,

"It's nice out and we need to talk."

"See you tomorrow then," Carlos waved.

As they both walked, Ada hooked her arm unto her brother's while they happily sauntered down the sidewalk famous for its decade-old gum stains.

While walking past a fenced-off area normally used for waste a scruffy-looking man suddenly jumped out from behind a black dumpster. He was pale-skinned with one of the skinniest noses the twins had ever seen. His grey beard was long and matted just like the hair atop his head. He let off a putrid scent that stung the sibling's noses, even as distant as they tried to keep themselves. He was sobbing, and his face glistened in tears as if he had been in endless turmoil,

"She's gone! SHE'S GONE! And it...was death's fault!" the strange man screamed while sobbing. He appeared to be homeless and was clearly distraught and in a mode of alarm, "It was death's fault!" he repeated over and over again before stepping closer to the siblings. He reached forward and grabbed Ada's arm. Despite her struggles to be released, his hold was unrelenting. He continued lecturing them on what sounded like senile banter, growing louder and louder, "I WITNESSED IT WITH MY VERY EYES! DEATH CAME OUT OF HER! DEATH WILL COME FOR YOU!" He pointed at Jolyn, "DEATH WILL COME FOR HIM! DEATH WILL COME OUT OF ALL OF US! DEATH—!"

To cut his session short, Jolyn stepped in, demanding the stranger let go of his sister. He pushed the senile man off of Ada, indirectly causing him to tear the shoulder of her white blouse.

Carlos, still in close range, vocally squalled from the parking lot in hopes of getting the strangers' attention. He power walked out from behind the brick wall that separated the parking lot from the sidewalk. Like a toddler, the overwrought stranger moved on to Jolyn and shook him forcibly by the shoulders. At this point, he started rambling unintelligible words. Out or pure fear and uncertainty, Jolyn pushed him far more aggressively this time, launching him into a trash bin at the edge of the curb. The homeless man stumbled over two trash bags and floundered into the road of oncoming cars that merged into the freeway. Suddenly, a burgundy Mercedes collided with the musty stranger, having the impact forcefully slam him into the windshield. Considering that it was a busy road, the man's body bounced off the car and slammed into another with less impact. As the second car skidded to a stop, the strange man rolled off the hood and rolled onto the hot pavement. All three teenagers were in absolute shock by how quickly things escalated. Unsure how to react, Ada clenched Jolyn's wrist and looked at him stare ahead as tears formed in her eyes.

The driver of the Mercedes exited their car and began to shriek once she witnessed the fatal state of the body. Being partially blocked from the angles of the stalled cars, Carlos decided to take a closer look. He took off, and from where Ada and Jolyn stood, they could tell something was wrong after Carlos nearly fell over and retched. Melancholy and burnt rubber was all that was present at this point. Nosey, yet noisy, bystanders and residents from inside of their apartments looked at the accident, all interested by what just occurred. Jolyn was afraid of the anticipated news, and he watched Carlos exchange a couple of words with the sickened drivers involved in the accident. The woman who screamed couldn't contain her emotions. She was a nervous wreck and was crying in the seat of her car as she frantically called authorities. Carlos walked back to the siblings, dragging his feet across the street as if he were walking through quicksand.

"Carlos…" Ada fearfully wondered, "What is it?"

Carlos took a deep breath and shook his head, unable to look at either of them in the eyes,

"He's dead."

Jolyn couldn't bear to hear those words. He instantly dropped into a squat and buried his face into his palms. Ada kneeled beside him, wrapping her arms around him and rubbing his back as he released hysterical yet silent sobs. Ada could feel the intense trembling of her brother's body, and all she could do was be there to comfort him.

Long after the police and ambulance finally arrived, they put the deceased's body on a stretcher after covering the body from head to do with a white sheet. He was immediately pronounced dead on arrival. All that was left exposed was two fingers of the stranger's right hand and even that was too much to witness for some bystanders. It was nearly ten o'clock at this point and many people had yet to go home The area was lit by multiple cars backed up on the streets and flashing lights from ambulances and police cars. Being involved in the incident, Ada, Jolyn, and Carlos had to stay behind for further questioning. Looking over her shoulder, Ada could see news reporters preparing to get their inside scoop. Hopefully, Ada and her brother would be gone before they could be questioned and green-lit on television for everyone to know they were involved in a murder. One of the cops, wearing your typical NYPD attire, walked away from his conversation with one of his associates in the street and returned to the sidewalk to speak with the teenagers who all sat on the curb,

"...So you said you pushed him correct?" The cop asked Jolyn. Jolyn nodded, eyes still glossy and heavy from the trauma, "But you said that it was after he was antagonizing you and your sister, is that correct?"

"...Not really antagonizing. But he was going off about something," Jolyn recalled, still perplexed by it all, "Something about death coming out of us."

"Well, we aren't too sure what occurred, but luckily for you, you had some witnesses here to give us a consistent story. So, you won't be held accountable for anything."

"Okay...but…" Jolyn briefly paused, "Why?" Jolyn asked in confusion.

"Look, kid. For now, he's a John Doe without any identification and it wasn't your fault okay? Besides, he was probably some junkie who was doped up on drugs or something. Cases like this happen all the time and there's really nothing we can do about it," Jolyn felt underwhelmed. He was thankful his name was clear but guilt got the best of him in terms of what would happen to the victim afterward. He paused before answering, "Listen to me, alright?" The cop asserted, "You're lucky enough you even have witnesses here for me to let you go, okay? Something like this is actually pretty serious if you meant to do it on purpose. Do you know what that's called? It's called murder. Now, do you want to look at me in the face and tell me that you…" He pointed at Jolyn, and then back to the white sheet in the road, "Murdered that man?" Jolyn frowned and shook his head. The cop knew when to be more delicate with the situation but harshness was needed so Jolyn could face the facts of it all. It was easy to blame yourself for something like this, but holding yourself accountable wasn't the same thing, "I've been a cop many years and dealt with situations like this. Don't beat yourself up over this, okay? It was an accident."

"So, there's nothing you can do for him?" Ada interjected from the side, empathizing with her brother.

"We can try, but other than that...that's just how the law works for something like this. It was accidental and very ill-timed. Had he not approached you three, we wouldn't be in this situation," he gave a smirk that was a failed attempt to be reassuring, "We'll contact you tomorrow to fill out a police report but as for right now, you kids should really be getting home and getting some rest. No one deserves to see this."

"Come on, Jolyn. He's right…" Ada added, "Carlos is gonna give us a ride home."

Jolyn did an about-face and was welcomed into the arms of Ada and Carlos. However, the owner of the burgundy Mercedes began shrieking once again as she did before. All three of them turned around and listened. Although they were a decent distance away, her scared screams weren't easily restrained, so the teens could hear every word,

"Officer! I-I saw his hand move! I swear to God I did!" The driver announced.

Carlos was the first to quickly dismiss the woman's paranoia and quickly called Jolyn and Ada to join him. Jolyn and Ada briefly exchanged glances that spoke the same exact questions they immediately understood. They walked into the parking lot, carefully maneuvering around the cops that were directing other backed up cars, to the main road. The cars were basically led through the parking lot, to circle around the accident, and exit out the other end.

Once they all sat in the car, Carlos waste no time starting up his Volkswagen. Looking back to reverse, he had no choice but to encounter the horrid look on Jolyn's face once again,

"You alright?" he questioned considerately, not having his concentration broken.

Jolyn sat in silence.

Next, Ada was answering her phone, bickering back and forth with who was presumably her mother, on their whereabouts and what was taking her and Jolyn so long to get home. Repeatedly telling her mother that she'd "tell her when they arrived," she hung up and groaned in exasperation. No one wondered why she didn't tell her mother right away what happened, therefore no one questioned it. Now just wasn't the time to bring up such a delicate situation, especially since her brother sat dreadfully in the back.

Carlos successfully backed out of his parking space and drove towards the exit of the parking lot. Once the car became steady, Carlos slammed the breaks without warning,

"What the hell, man!" Carlos groaned, attempting to sink his palm into his steering wheel, "Did people not learn from what just happened?!" Carlos looked through the window on the passenger's side, seeing the same inquisitive bystanders beam back into their apartments or down the streets, "The hell are they running from?"

Carlos looked at Ada, expecting some type of back up from the girl who rarely agreed with him, but as he watched her, it was obvious that she shaking in her seat. Something had her attention set in a completely different direction. It wasn't too long before they all followed Ada's gaze and noticed that, what they thought was, the deceased man was now sitting up in the middle of the road. As the white sheet slid off and revealed his swelled face, there was something ominous there that wasn't present in any organism on earth. Despite the multiple chatter and cars speeding on the freeway beside, everything felt as if it became dead silent. The only thing that could be heard and felt was the trepidation that swelled in one's own heartbeat. At this point, the "dead" man had made it to his feet was stumbling to whomever was in his sights. A visible bone protruded out of his right arm and twisted the stomachs of all three young adults in the vehicle. The cops were already cautious of what was happening in front of their very eyes but, like everyone else, probably assumed that there had to be some sort of rational explanation for whatever was occurring. A cynic would probably assume that he was high on some drug only found in the wilds of South America.

Backed up in the narrow and curved path of the parking lot, the cars behind the teens honked for Carlos to get a move on, presumably wanting to get the bloody hell out of there. Carlos sped off without a second's thought and hit the highway for the quickest route home. He looked one final time in the rearview mirrors-they all looked back until the scene was no longer in view. The last thing seen was the police officers withdrawing their firearms.

Out of all the houses in the neighborhood, the Chadwell's house was amongst the few, two-floor row houses in the block. Every other house was your average home and they always looked much ornamental and bigger from the outside. Carlos pulled up to the very end of the block and halted at the street light. Jolyn expressed a bitter farewell that barely felt wholesome and exited backseat of the minivan without even waiting for a reply. Carlos briskly rolled down his window and called out to him. However, Jolyn didn't respond. He didn't want to talk and just needed some time alone. He was seen digging through his pockets for his house keys and once he finally found it, he entered the house as if he was being followed by something demonic,

"Why is he like this, man?" Carlos asked looking at Ada, "Freaking out over everything? We have to talk about what we saw."

"He doesn't want to…" Ada understood, still having an obvious shakiness in her voice.

"But, I saw it too! He's so dramatic about—"

"...Just be quiet, Carlos!" She snapped. She didn't mean it harshly but she just needed space to process it. Everyone did. Besides, Carlos had a very virulent ideology when it came to proving how "tough" and "formidable" he was compared to others. And although she was used to it, now wasn't the time to do it when it came to her brother, "Please, just be quiet. We get it. Not everyone is so thick-skinned like you."

Carlos didn't bother to retaliate because he knew it was going to be a never-ending confrontation. He put his car into the parked gear and powered it off. Being double-parked, he toggled on his hazard flashers so that oncoming cars would easily drive right past without any issue. They quietly sat in the dark for a while, having the street lights color their interior every time it changed through the windshield. At this point, Carlos understood it. Despite his mind racing a mile a minute,—they needed a moment. Finally breaking the ice, he looked over at her,

"What the hell did we see, Ada?"

Ada shook her head and folded her lips inward before talking,

"I don't know," she whispered. She looked over at him, "The news reports, the video, that man," she hugged herself in an attempt to repress her goosebumps, "All of it just feels connected."

"What video?" Carlos pried.

That's when Ada remembered he didn't see it,

"There's a leaked video going around of some guy killing EMTs on a freeway in LA," Carlos' face changed, hoping she might've meant it figuratively, "Like...literally eating them, Carlos. And before they take him out, he's shot four times in the chest," she exhaled shakingly, recalling every second the footage as if it were a nightmare, "He falls to his knees but he gets right back up before they finally shoot him in the head."

"...No one can survive a shot to the head," Carlos rationalized, becoming even more unsettled.

"But no one can survive five shots to the chest either, can they? Not even with a bulletproof vest on. At least I don't think?" She shook her head, "The point is that people thought that the man in the video was dead. We thought that the homeless guy was dead...and they weren't..."

"Then what if they were?" Carlos wondered, following up with non-lexical vocals to mock The X-Files theme song. He looked over with a light chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. Seeing that nothing worked, Carlos presented his palm and Ada held onto it, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

Ada nodded without much to say. Reaching over, she gave him a quick peck on the mouth and exited the car. As she walked around the front of the van, Carlos stuck his head out the window,

"One more?"

"No," Ada smiled with difficulty, approaching the steps to her yard.

"Look at my face!" Carlos said attempting to make the ugliest frown on the face of the earth, but Ada didn't budge. Instead, she wondered what he was doing with his face, "If you don't give me one more kiss, I'm gonna sing for you like last time."

"Please don't…" Ada said with an exhausted grin.

Channeling his inner Whitney, Carlos began,

"And iiiiiiiiiiiiiii-eeeeeee-iiiiiiiiiiiii-eeeeee-iiiiiiiii," he purposely took the most dramatic breath ever, "WILL ALWAYS—"

"Okay! Okay! Shhh!" Ada quickly dashed back to the driver's side and gave Carlos a couple more smooches through the opened window, having him hold her chin with his digits.

As she backed away from the window, Carlos remained parked until she made it into her house safe and sound. After she vanished, Carlos' pleasure didn't last too long. He exhaled and rested his head back, unable to get his mind off the, presumably, homeless man back at the daycare center.

What the hell happened after they left?