carried about by currents caused not by lunar tides, but by muscular action.
Now splattered all over his girlfriend’s shirt, it had a third dimension. His body’s visceral reaction to the sight gave it yet another, more cerebral aspect.
Her touch yanked him out of his reverie. “Yeah, thanks, he almost had me there,” Pete replied.
“Same. I’m just glad I carry this,” she said, acknowledging the bloodied knife in her hand. Pete nodded, not sure how to reply.
Bryan, who had slid a few feet away from the carnage, was resting on his knees. Liz’s coworker tried to croak out a word but violent coughs erupted through his damaged throat. Liz herself had walked over to the girl victimized by the earlier attack, still sobbing where she lay on the wet concrete floor. Cool as a cucumber, his girlfriend put a hand on the shoulder of the crying girl, whispering something in a comforting tone. He noted that Liz’s other hand still held the bloody knife tight.
Pete lifted Bryan to his feet. The bigger man wheezed with the effort. “Come on you did good, but we need to stay alert. I don’t know what’s going on,” Pete said. Bryan nodded, still unable to speak. Pete glanced over at the guy in green swim trunks, who remained face down on the floor. Something foul was happening in the water park and he knew that Liz’s instinct was dead on once again.
Liz and Pete’s gaze’s met, and they exchanged a knowing look. He nodded, understanding what had to happen next. Stepping around the crying girl and the waterslide, he went for a look at the concert stage.
Above the churning pool, the stage was empty. The DJ’s setup was now a mess of broken records and equipment. Bright stage lights flitted over floating corpses, illuminating an eerie scene made terrifying by those who were still alive to view it. From a distance, Pete couldn’t make out who was infected and who wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to wait around and find out. The closest fight to him was already decided, where a woman in a bikini angrily held someone under water even though there was no sign of resistance. Other battles raged on. People were slipping and falling, throwing punches and drowning one another. The water itself became a weapon. What remained of the music, remnants of the full electronic arrangement the DJ was paid to perform, gave the scene a vulgar, grating soundtrack. The sounds were so loud and jarring, overpowering all the ambient noise, that the scene resembled a silent picture. Not in black and white, but in brilliant, dazzling colors with the stage lights moving to their own beat.
Backtracking slowly, Pete tried to avoid drawing any attention. The water was the vector that much was certain. Liz had said the water park was cutting corners. Ambient heat and the moisture contained in the building created a perfect breeding ground for all manner of contagion. And that was with chemical treatments, let alone without. Orifices had been inundated with the toxic water. The filthy pool facilitated the spread of the disease.
Heart pounding with alarm at the escalating situation, Pete tried to consider what was going on here. Years in the lab had taught him the importance of an investigative methodology, a series of steps to take before coming to a conclusion. In some ways, it wasn’t dissimilar from kung fu training, where technique was drilled over and over again in order to fix a certain outcome. Both mental processes, martial and scientific, synthesized after years of coexistence. Symptoms were feral rage combined with the discharge of the eyes. Some kind of swelling of the brain could cause that, perhaps encephalitis?
The infection could very well be protozoan: however a parasite that spread this quickly was unusual and in a word supernatural . Scientific method, normally a passive tool, now barged its way into in Pete’s thought process, demanding he interrogate that word. The concept that anything could be beyond natural was
Now splattered all over his girlfriend’s shirt, it had a third dimension. His body’s visceral reaction to the sight gave it yet another, more cerebral aspect.
Her touch yanked him out of his reverie. “Yeah, thanks, he almost had me there,” Pete replied.
“Same. I’m just glad I carry this,” she said, acknowledging the bloodied knife in her hand. Pete nodded, not sure how to reply.
Bryan, who had slid a few feet away from the carnage, was resting on his knees. Liz’s coworker tried to croak out a word but violent coughs erupted through his damaged throat. Liz herself had walked over to the girl victimized by the earlier attack, still sobbing where she lay on the wet concrete floor. Cool as a cucumber, his girlfriend put a hand on the shoulder of the crying girl, whispering something in a comforting tone. He noted that Liz’s other hand still held the bloody knife tight.
Pete lifted Bryan to his feet. The bigger man wheezed with the effort. “Come on you did good, but we need to stay alert. I don’t know what’s going on,” Pete said. Bryan nodded, still unable to speak. Pete glanced over at the guy in green swim trunks, who remained face down on the floor. Something foul was happening in the water park and he knew that Liz’s instinct was dead on once again.
Liz and Pete’s gaze’s met, and they exchanged a knowing look. He nodded, understanding what had to happen next. Stepping around the crying girl and the waterslide, he went for a look at the concert stage.
Above the churning pool, the stage was empty. The DJ’s setup was now a mess of broken records and equipment. Bright stage lights flitted over floating corpses, illuminating an eerie scene made terrifying by those who were still alive to view it. From a distance, Pete couldn’t make out who was infected and who wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to wait around and find out. The closest fight to him was already decided, where a woman in a bikini angrily held someone under water even though there was no sign of resistance. Other battles raged on. People were slipping and falling, throwing punches and drowning one another. The water itself became a weapon. What remained of the music, remnants of the full electronic arrangement the DJ was paid to perform, gave the scene a vulgar, grating soundtrack. The sounds were so loud and jarring, overpowering all the ambient noise, that the scene resembled a silent picture. Not in black and white, but in brilliant, dazzling colors with the stage lights moving to their own beat.
Backtracking slowly, Pete tried to avoid drawing any attention. The water was the vector that much was certain. Liz had said the water park was cutting corners. Ambient heat and the moisture contained in the building created a perfect breeding ground for all manner of contagion. And that was with chemical treatments, let alone without. Orifices had been inundated with the toxic water. The filthy pool facilitated the spread of the disease.
Heart pounding with alarm at the escalating situation, Pete tried to consider what was going on here. Years in the lab had taught him the importance of an investigative methodology, a series of steps to take before coming to a conclusion. In some ways, it wasn’t dissimilar from kung fu training, where technique was drilled over and over again in order to fix a certain outcome. Both mental processes, martial and scientific, synthesized after years of coexistence. Symptoms were feral rage combined with the discharge of the eyes. Some kind of swelling of the brain could cause that, perhaps encephalitis?
The infection could very well be protozoan: however a parasite that spread this quickly was unusual and in a word supernatural . Scientific method, normally a passive tool, now barged its way into in Pete’s thought process, demanding he interrogate that word. The concept that anything could be beyond natural was
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