i can feel the pressure

PRE DESTRUCTION (D) DAY

The body was male, approximately mid twenties. Had torn up clothing like he'd been ravaged by an animal. He was sprawled out on his back in a local park near the local elementary school, his head tilted slightly to his right but still looked longingly at a smartly dressed woman. Arms were to his side; a perfect dead body position. Caucasian – but that was kind of hard to tell because of the blood smeared over his face. Blond blooded hair and pale eyes stared at the early morning sky. He had a wedding ring on.

Cause of death? Seemed to be due to blood loss.

Why? The woman knew the answer almost immediately. Flesh around his face, arms and chest were missing. It looked like he had been eaten by something as teeth marks were visible upon his translucent skin. There was also a lot of blood soaking into the grass, dark blood. Tar like blood. Blood that really didn't look real.

The woman stood up from her crouched position as she heard someone approaching. She hoped from her absolute core that it was going to be a superior of hers as this was her third homicide as a detective. Running something like a crime scene on her own was a daunting prospect for anyone, let alone a recently promoted detective. Instead of a proper detective however, it was the first officer upon the scene who she vaguely remembered.

"Has the witness been interviewed yet?" She tried to play unattached in every crime scene but she could never be. It was always the open eyes that looked at you like you'd ruined everything that scared her the most. The blood or loose murderers not so much.

"You're not gonna believe what she just told me actually." The officer in question had dark hair, darker eyes. He also had a boxer's nose. Alongside all of this, anxiety twisted his expression into one of pure worry.

She walked away from the body and back towards the road, he followed. "Humour me." She stated dryly.

"The victim and his wife were out jogging. Another guy ran up to the victim and jumped on him." He paused for dramatic effect or something else along those lines. "Started biting him. Wife starts screaming, and she gets bit too, but after running away she loses sight of the man. Then she goes back to her husband and the guy is eating him."

She was silent, not for dramatic effect but in shock as she tried to take this in. It wasn't everyday that being hungry was the cause of murder. "Are you being serious?"

The officer nodded. "I am."

It made a logical argument, and that combined with the bite marks seemed to point in that sort of direction. It was hard to believe however that cannibalism was still around in this day and age. Stranger things were yet to happen to her though. "What happened to the man was eating the victim?"

"When the wife went to call the police she had to go home." He sighed. "When she came back he was gone."

She stopped as she got to the road itself, looking for a sign of the forensics van. It hadn't arrived yet. There was a small crowd of people a hundred metres down the road on the other side of the crime scene tape anxiously trying to get a glimpse of what happened. No way did they want to know the full details.

The detective looked over to the ambulance, an even younger woman inside was just leaving; her hand was bandaged yet still bleeding through at an alarming rate for just a simple bite. She took one look across the park at her husband's body and she started crying. Not just normal crying though. She placed both hands to her face and wailed. She wailed for death, shouting through her tears; "Why can't that be me?"

Then the strangest thing happened.

Out of nowhere a man came hobbling along came up to the woman wailing for an end and went for her throat, nuzzling her hands from her face. She tried to push him away but he already had a hold – with his teeth – around her neck like a dog with a chew toy.

"What the f-" The detective began before she was cut off.

The wife of the victim had her oesophagus pulled out in a bloody mess. She collapsed onto the floor and the man went with her, tearing flesh from her face like an animal.

There were various cries of 'Police stop what you're doing!' and guns were pulled out and aimed towards the murderous man. He started to look vacantly at the few officers and the detective upon the scene. The detective felt physically sick, and in such a state of shock she couldn't pull her gun out. Usually she was used to seeing the worst looking dead bodies possible. The lights were on in that man's mind but no-one was home.

More quickly than she expected, the officer that stood next to her shot the man through the head, sparing little hesitation like he didn't care about the consequences. The bullet hit the cannibal square in the forehead and he slumped over the woman. She wasn't moving.

They ran to her, and when they got to her body it became apparent the woman who had her throat pulled out was dead. The paramedics rushed over but even they could tell that there was nothing they could do. The female victim's tear streaked face stared at the detective like she had failed her. The detective in question shifted her gaze to the thing that had tried to eat her; its mouth was filled greedily with her flesh. The familiar coppery smell of blood started to worm its way throughout the area and into the stomachs of all of the nearby officers. She was pulled by her shoulder, but she was so shocked at the sight laid out before her, her eyes didn't move from the bodies. There was an air of disbelief right then, an air of bemusement even.

"Let's move you away for a second Detective." It was the officer who had informed her of the circumstances of the man's death earlier. He was trying to sooth her, with one arm around her shoulders, but when she eventually saw his face he looked pale like he was going to throw up at any minute. He probably needed the soothing more than her.

He sat her in the front passenger seat of a police cruiser, her body perched on the edge whilst facing the crime scene in the distance. He had to lean against the cruiser in some attempt to make himself look like her wasn't fazed by what he saw; his hands against the back passenger window and his head looking at the floor.

"Thanks for that, Officer...?"

He looked her way. "Walsh. Shane Walsh." They were silent for a while before Officer Walsh stood up straight, clearing his throat. "You're not from the local force are you?"

She looked at him, blinking a few times to try and comprehend his question. "No, I was drafted in from Atlanta PD. Seems like most people are ill recently."

"What did you say your name was again?"

She sighed. "Hope Finley."

"How long you been on the force?"

It was small talk, but it was somehow comforting to her. She needed comfort at that point to know that she had done the right thing by joining the law enforcement career. "About six years I think."

"Worked hard to get where you are?"

Hope sniggered. "I did so much overtime I thought the force would refuse to pay me."

"Working overtime ain't an easy thing. Shows that you're dedicated." He smiled lightly before he pointed to her left hand. "Your husband mind?"

She looked at the plain gold band ring before she took it off and put it on the other hand. "I don't have one, or anyone in that respect. It usually goes on a chain but I was in a rush when I got the call." Her eyes shifted from the ring to up at him. "It's meant to bring me luck, or has done. Not today though. Today is bad."

He nodded. "Today has been bad. Bad and weird."

A cell phone went off, a generic ring tone for a generic phone. Hope pulled it from the pocket of her pants. "Detective Finley here."

"Ah, Finley." It was the voice of the head of Homicide Andy Hopkins. "I heard what just happened from the officers on scene."

Detective Hopkins was a clinically obese man who waddled like a penguin when in a hurry. He didn't like to go to scenes and did paperwork in the office almost all the time. He had a habit of lightening up dire and horrific situations with jokes, and luckily didn't go any tell any of the families that their relatives were dead. That was Hope's job. The one thing she respected about him was that he earned his job through brains and determination; something that some of her colleagues failed to have.

"Ah. I sorry it happened like that sir. I didn't know that the murderer was still on site."

"It's not your fault." He didn't sound sure, his voice sounded wobbly like he knew something but wasn't going to say. "Listen, you need to keep an eye out for a van from the CDC, they'll be taking the bodies for testing, not forensics."

"What? Why?"

"Orders from the big man. He wouldn't tell me the exact reasoning other than they just need to be tested."

She paused again. "Right, OK. I'll keep an eye out."

"Keep safe Finley."

"You too sir."

They hung up and she put her phone away. Officer Walsh was looking at her and she met his gaze with a half hearted smile. "The CDC is taking the bodies for testing."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know the details. But just make sure the officers know to let the CDC van in OK?"

"Yes Detective." She didn't know if he was mocking her or not with her response, but apart from that he seemed to be a useful carrier pigeon.

"Also," Hope stood up just as he turned to walk away. He turned back to her with something in his eyes, "you seemed to be pretty trigger happy back there."

He tore his eyes to the floor before he looked at her. He was squinting slightly, maybe in reluctance in divulging any sort of information. "I-my friend, a Sherriff's deputy got shot because we weren't aware. I wasn't prepared to take any chances in that thing killing anyone, it's bad enough that the woman died."

She had heard about this incident, it used in the force as a way of saying 'DON'T BE LAZY, KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN'. "I'm sorry to hear that Officer Walsh." There was an awkward pause as she thought of something to say. "I'm gonna go take another look at the first deceased male. What was his name?"

"James O'Connell."

She paused again. "And his wife?"

"Mary O'Connell."

Hope half walked away, stopping short as she remembered something. "Try and find their relatives for me? I'll go and see them in a few minutes."

"Will do."

She nodded her head slightly in his direction. No way was the CDC going to take the bodies away. It was her crime scene and she wanted everything to do with solving what had pretty obviously gone on. It was her own fault that she was stubborn and sure that the bodies didn't need to go to the CDC because she thought she knew the full story, but she didn't right then.

It's going to be warm today, she thought as she stepped onto the dewy grass. She just wanted to stay inside and fill out forms; with the air conditioning on. The body came closer into view and when she reached him she knelt down on one knee. At least they are together, at peace. It was what Mrs O'Connell had asked for.

Then another strange thing happened.

The body began to breathe; the torso was rising and falling. The eyes had changed to an even paler shade of blue. It blinked, and looked at her. Its arms reached out like it wanted comfort. Of course she didn't know what the hell was going on. Hope fell back in shock, now she was sitting at its level.

It made strange noises like animals growling. "Gnnnnghhhh." It went. "Gnnnnnnnraaaaaaaa."

It sat up quickly, its arms still reaching out to her. It was shuffling in her direction and she shuffled away. In a panic her delicate hand tugged at the holster for her gun, not the actual gun itself. She couldn't look away from the thing because of its eyes. They looked so dead, so detached. They didn't even look real. Judging by that it sure as hell wasn't a proper person anymore.

Then it started to crawl, with its right hand still outstretched. She looked down at the holster for a second before it latched onto her freshly washed muddy brown hair. It pulled her back towards its face and she screamed. Its other hand latched on to some hair on the opposite side of her head and she screamed even more. There was a commotion behind her, but everything seemed to go so slow. Its mouth seemed to be chomping the air to her direction. She kept on trying to pull away but it wasn't letting go of her hair. Whatever it wanted, it was determined.

A gunshot ripped through the silent morning air once again and a bullet went into the side of its head, coming out the opposite side and most likely lodging itself in a nearby tree. Part of its brain and skull flew out too in some sort of horror movie type-of-mess. It went lifeless, its body sunk to the floor and its hands let go of her hair. The thing's arms fell onto her legs; dried blood had formed around the open bite wounds, and the fresh blood had been wiped on her smart pair of pants. She shuffled back some more to get it off of her.

"Detective Finley are you OK?" Someone asked. She thought it was Officer Walsh but everything was swaying. She felt sick to the stomach.

In an exhausted mess, she fell flat on her back, looking at the deceptively cheerful blue sky. She had never felt any more disgusting.

Officer Walsh took her hand and pulled Hope to a sitting position, his other hand on her back. "Oh man, it didn't hurt you did it?"

She shook her head in a half delirious state. "I-I'm fine."

"You're not are you?"

"I'll be fine."

"C'mon. Let's get you out of here." He gave a sympathetic look before he stood up, pulling her up with him. His grip was firm yet somehow gentle, but let go when he deemed her to be stable in standing up by myself. "I thought he was dead. The paramedics thought he was dead."

"Obviously not." Hope looked back to the man lying on the floor; who had just tried to attack her. "What in God's name is going on these days?"

"I wish I could answer that." He looked at her from the corner of his eye; her light brown hair was bloodied and her clothing was too.

There was a pause for a few seconds as they got to the tarmac road. Their attention turned to an oncoming van which she assumed to belong to the CDC. It was new, plain black and actually reminded her of a hearse. "You find their relatives?"

"Only the girl's parents and siblings. I told them to stay home until an officer or detective would be with them. Course since you're the only detective here it'll be a few officers." The doors of the van slammed just after it had stopped short of the bodies in the road; covered crudely by fleece blankets.

One of the men who got out of the van approached the pair. He was about 40, with stubble and no hair whatsoever. He had a well defined face, a prominent nose and small eyes and wore army camouflage gear. He also looked smug. "Detective Hope Finley?" he queried. In between this he eyed the blood in her hair and on her trousers. She ain't got long to live.

"That's me."

"Your services are no longer required at the scene." He was authoritative yet bland when he spoke. "This is a matter of the army and the CDC, officers will be moved on when more help from the Army shows up."

She didn't believe him for a second, and when she looked at Officer Walsh he too looked surprised. "You have ID?"

The man indicated to an ID pass hanging around his neck. "Colonel Lance Depero. Now if you don't mind your presence is not required. You'll have a privacy document to sign when you get back to your office to say that you will not divulge information as to what happened here." That is if you even get there alive. "As will all officers and paramedics on the scene."

"What the hell?" Walsh interrupted. "You can't go around telling people they ain't needed on scene like you call all the shots."

"I have the authority to do so. Here." He pulled a piece of slightly scrunched up paper from his pocket and handed it towards him. The officer scanned it before looking at Colonel Depero with narrowed eyes.

"Is this a joke?" Walsh certainly didn't sound amused, and when Hope took the piece of paper from her comrade she wasn't laughing in the slightest.

There was the White House seal on top of the paper. "No." She heard from Depero before she started to read the text.

I give my permission to the United States of America Army to oversee all murders from... The date was five days previous. Then there was an elegant signature from the President himself.

Her head shook vigorously at this piece of paper before she looked to the man who had just given it to them. "Do I have the authority to tell the victim's family that they're dead? What are they, just some sort of number to you?"

"No you do not have the authority. And right now this is a matter of emergency and speed more than anything." He was mocking her, and by the second she was getting even more infuriated.

She shoved the piece of paper into the Colonel's rather solid chest. "Then you will have the worst job in the world." Hope shoved past him, towards her car that she had parked within the police tape and a little further down the road.

"Wait." Walsh's voice called out to her. Hope wasn't going to, and as he realised this he grabbed onto her upper arm and pulled her back towards him. She scowled like a pissed off teenager.

"What?"

"You can't just go."

She shrugged with an air of anger. "They're our orders. You heard them didn't you?"

"I mean... not like," he looked at her hair. Her light brown locks were tainted with red, "that."

"Like what?"

He nodded towards her hair yet again. "There's blood..."

She looked down at her clothing; her blue casual buttoned blouse looked fine. Her smart pair of grey pants had smearings of blood on her thighs. She felt his grip loosen on her upper arm. "Shit."

"I'll take you to the station." He let go of her arm, realising how long he had kept it there. "You can have a shower. Don't suppose you got any spare clothing?"

"I've got jeans and a spare shirt if I have to do an all nighter. It'll have to do."

He nodded. "I'll get the police cruiser and you'll have to follow me to the station."

"See you there then." Walsh walked down the road to the cruiser she'd sat in earlier, and Hope walked to her European style estate car that looked expensive. Feeling the key in her pocket, she unlocked it and opened the door to get in. She sat down and slammed the door behind her before she saw in the mirror her bloodstained hair. Sickness drifted through her.

The flash of blue lights behind her drew her attention away as the cruiser went by. Walsh's profile raised a hand in her direction before the flashing lights went off. She put the keys in the ignition and turned the engine on before she followed him back to the station. A shower was just what she needed.

0-0

After having a quick word with the officer on the front desk, it was deemed to be fine to let a 'foreign' detective use the women's shower and changing room. Gratefully, it was something she knew that she desperately needed as there was no way in hell she could have driven home knowing full well that blood was caked in her hair. She rubbed the blood out with some officer's leftover shampoo, and she scrubbed her bare skin with her nails until her skin was raw. What happened had made her feel so unclean and disgusting yet she knew that nothing bad had actually happened to her. She changed into some dark jeans and another smart-casual blouse even though there was nothing wrong with her old one. It was the feeling that stayed with her as she had been wearing that when Mr O'Connell attacked her, the same went for her baggy and vaguely fashionable blazer that lay with her other clothing.

She picked up her clothing, as well as her handbag before swinging it on her shoulder. As she left the changing room she made her way into the lobby. Walsh was stood talking to another officer before the other one walked away; leaving him holding a bunch of flowers for some unknown reason.

There was a smile from him. "Feeling better?"

"Surprisingly so, actually." She returned the favour as gestured with her free hand that she was going to go outside.

"All officers were relieved from their duties at the scene. They're all back now." He noted that the woman who had appeared to be so emotionless earlier had changed into one that was more relaxed and happy. "They weren't given an explanation like we were.'

"Figures." As they walked across the lawn of the station, they came past the wire mesh gate that had been left open and into the parking lot. Hope looked at the flowers before her eyes settled on Walsh's face. "So, who's the lucky girl then?"

He looked at her with a vague smile. "They're for our injured friend that I told you about earlier. All the officers put money in and I was nominated to go and give them to him. My shift ended about an hour ago and I've known Rick since we were kids."

"I'm sure he'll love them."

"Well," Walsh looked slightly upset, his vague smile had gone, "he's in a coma. Don't think he'll see them somehow."

"Don't say that." She said quickly. As they came to her car she went to the front passenger's side, keeping an eye on the upset looking officer with some concern. She put her bag and dirty clothing down on the floor of the front seat before she shut the door and went back over. "Look, I'm really sorry. I truly am. But I can bet he'll see them when he wakes up and he'll think what great people he works with."

Maybe he was teary, she didn't really know. She couldn't exactly imagine someone like him being emotional in that way at all. "I know. It's just horrible."

Hope nodded. "I know what it's like to lose people. I understand completely." Then an idea struck her. "I'll be one minute." She went back to the passenger seat before she opened the glove box of the car. She pulled out a sticky note and a pen. In a few seconds she had scribbled her number down, and she peeled the note from the rest. Rushing, she threw the pad of notes and the pen back in the glove box and slammed it shut. Hope took it over to him. "Just in case you need to talk."

He eyed it for a second before he looked at her; her lightly tanned face showed him just how concerned she was. "Thanks, means a lot." She had a few freckles under her blue eyes, but only a few. A light coat of mascara covered her already dark lashes and there didn't seem to be a scrap of concealer or heavy make-up upon her face, not even to cover up the indistinct dark bags under her eyes. She looked normal. She looked beautiful.

"I'll see you around then Officer Walsh. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

She half smiled before she went to the driver's side, opening the door and sitting in the car. As she shut the door and put the key in the ignition, she realised that maybe she was coming away from this with a lot more than just a friend. The way he looked at her just then made her feel special.

She switched the engine on and reversed out of the space, passing him and the flowers that had been put in the boot of the cruiser. As she straightened the wheels of the car, he approached the driver's side. She rolled the window down.

"The name's Shane. Not Officer Walsh, Detective." He smiled at her.

"Ah," she paused as she realised his game, "and neither is mine Detective. It's Hope."

He gave her a wry smile before he nodded for her to go, and she drove back to Atlanta the same day. But she didn't stay for long. The next time she'd see him it would be a month away, or was it even more? Nevertheless, she'd see him when she thought all hope was lost.

0-0

Colonel Depero oversaw the annoying detective's crime scene with military precision. It would be a few minutes until the CDC people would be here to take the bodies away, and the National Guard were keeping an eye out on the borders between the crime scene and the even more annoying public that were trying to work out what the hell was going on. The nearby elementary school had been forced to shut because of what happened, and that had caused even more concern.

He looked in the distance at the body of a man who had been shot, just like the body of another man who lay just feet away. They had obviously tried to attack people, and had paid the price in the worst way possible. There was a part of him that didn't sympathize; they had tried to attack innocent people. There was another part that felt truly terrible for what happened to the people before they had become those things, whatever they were.

He looked to his watch; it was approaching half ten in the morning and it was almost a hundred degrees. No way was he looking forward to being outside for much longer.

There was a commotion, from behind him like rasping breaths and a few shouts from people at the scene. In a panic, he turned to see what was going on. The woman that was covered underneath a fleece blanket was standing up, facing his way with a smirking smile upon her face. She was soaked with blood; a chunk of her neck was missing. She charged, pushing him to the ground with force (that a surprised Depero didn't have) and she tore meat from his chest like a crazed beast.

The last thing that the smug Colonel Depero would see was Mary O'Connell chewing his flesh.