Couldn't they do this interview themselves????
The burlap ruffled as one of the men tugged the sack off.
A bundle of ominous black hair spilled out immediately, silky yet tangled. It was like a wet curtain over the figure's face— the sheer uncertainty of what I was going to see practically killing me.
For a moment, all I could see was that hair, lifeless and heavy, hanging just inches from the ground as the person's chin remained tucked to their chest.
Then, their head began to tilt upwards.
It wasn't natural, not to me.
It lifted in small, jerking increments— like something was pulling them up with invisible strings.
When their face finally came into view, my whole body froze up.
It was a woman. Mid-thirties, maybe. It was hard to tell under the sickly pale skin stretched too thin across her bones.
Holy shit.
Her corneas burned a deep, swollen red, pulsing like something alive was swimming behind them. Veins spiderwebbed through the whites, glowing faintly under the dim light. I couldn't tell what she was thinking while she stared at me.
I'd never seen this kind of look on Mrs. Graham.
Never on Lila.
Never on Sheldon.
Never on any of the dozens infected that had tried to tear chunks out of me.
It was as if the disease didnt stop at just making you an aggressive monster.
It fucks your mind to the point of no return.
What the hell were they expecting me to say to this?
"You may proceed," the commander said at last, voice cutting through the stale air.
The two men who'd dragged the infected woman in stepped back, boots thudding on concrete. Chains rattled softly as they put distance between themselves and her like they already regretted being near her in the first place.
Silence swallowed the room whole for what felt like minutes. Sick, suffocating— making even my own heartbeat sound too loud.
I stared at the woman across from me. She stared back, barely blinking, barely breathing, like her lungs were remembering how to work.
Looks like this was really happening.
I cleared my throat. My voice came out much softer than I intended it to.
"Uhm—… what—…"
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I forced in a breath.
"What's your name?"
Her expression didn't change.
No reaction.
No twitch.
Nothing.
Just that horrible, swollen red gaze… watching me like she didn't understand the words that came out of my mouth.
Couldn't they see that this was a waste of fucking time?
I glanced toward the reinforced window—
The commander's stare was wintry.
Aubrey's hands were pressed tightly together.
Terri looked ready to puke.
Lila—…I couldn't even see her properly. She was still on the ground trying to fight the men that were twice her size.
"TALK, DAMN IT!" one of the soldiers behind her barked.
The woman flinched.
As if she was a frightened animal.
My brows furrowed at that.
Her head snapped upward fully, the hair parting, revealing the full stretch of her trembling face. For the briefest second—her eyes widened, and the red inside them quivered like liquid.
My stomach twisted. My frown deepened despite myself.
This wasn't some raging monster. Atleast, not right now.
This was something—…someone who was broken.
A human consciousness twisted, warped, dangling by a thread while the disease puppeteered the rest. Or Atleast…that's what I thought anyway.
"M— my name?"
She managed to quiver out. I nodded softly.
So she could talk?
"…M…"
Her voice cracked like broken glass. She swallowed— or tried to— the motion jerking her whole neck.
"…Mary-Ann…"
She actually answered me.
For a second, I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. My brain lagged, replaying the sound in a loop that felt unreal, wrong, too human for something that looked like that.
Her eyes didn't seem to leave mine.
I forced myself to look at the reinforced window— to get even a second of distance from those eyes.
Outside, Aubrey stared at me with an expression caught somewhere between disbelief and urgency. Her arms made a circling motion, almost frantic.
Keep going.
Keep talking.
I forced myself to sit up straighter.
"Right, Mary-Ann…"
I began, unsure of what I could've said in that moment.
"What did you— um…your occupation— What did you do before this?"
For a moment, nothing happened.
She just stared at me with those red, trembling eyes— glinting with what looked like utter confusion— like I was speaking a foreign language.
Was her name the only thing she could muster?
I didn't smile, but a sense of relief filled my soul. I was about to rise from my chair and end this nonsense right here. This was obviously going nowhere.
Just then— something changed.
A flicker.
A spark of something painfully human lit behind her eyes, like a lighter striking after too many failed clicks. Her brows knitted faintly, lips parting as if she were reaching through thick fog inside her own skull.
God damn it.
Her voice came out uneven, scraping against the dryness in her throat.
"I… taught…"
She swallowed like it hurt.
"…I was… a professor…"
Her gaze drifted somewhere far beyond me— past the room, as though she were seeing a completely different world.
"…psychology…"
Her voice softened at the word, like it meant something to her.
"At the University of Chicago…"
I frowned at her words— my heart burning. Seeing this, hearing her talk, this whole interview— it was torture.
I knew I had to make something out of this through. To at least prove myself to the commander.
"Thanks for telling me that, Mary-Ann. If you can, could you…tell me how you felt when you got infected?"
"I… I had a student," She whispered. My eyebrow rose.
"He was… promising. Smart. Curious. Adorable…"
I couldn't even imagine where this was going.
"I… I wanted to understand him. Every thought…"
Her voice rasped.
"…Every mistake he might make…"
I froze, my fingers tightening around the edges of the chair. I tried to atleast understand what she was saying, even though she ignored my last question.
"…So I… made sure he… stayed… perfect."
Her lips trembled. "…I— I couldn't let him— anyone else—"
The sound of her voice, so painfully delicate and human, collided violently with the hollow, hollow terror in her eyes.
Aubrey's hands flew to her mouth. Terri shifted uncomfortably, eyes wide, as though she'd just realized she was watching a confession unravel in real time.
I swallowed. The commander's glare bore into me from the window. I had no choice but to respond. To get as much information as possible.
"What…what do you mean?" I asked, my voice cracking. I never wanted to hear that answer.
Mary-Ann's head jerked slightly, the motion almost involuntary. Her hair fell in wet, heavy strands around her face again. But her eyes… those eyes were molten, desperate, burning with something I couldn't name.
"I… I had to— kill him. I had to make sure… no one… no one would ruin him… or me… or—"
She broke off. Her gaze focused on me for just a moment, my whole body tensing under her gaze.
"Hey…"
She began slow.
"What's with that look on your face?"
My response got caught in my throat as I noticed the change in her expression— the shadow cast over her eyes, optics glinting with disdain…and something deeper.
She was… angry?
"You have his look. The same expression he had that night. Looking at me like you're any better. Looking at me like I'm…like I'm crazy…I'm not.."
My breath hitched.
"Mary-Ann, I never said—"
"IM NOT FUCKING CRAZY, DAMN YOU!"
Chains rattled, chair legs screeching against the floor as she lurched forward, dragging the chair with her. My body went rigid, frozen in place. Every instinct screamed to move, but my legs refused to obey. The air was thick with sweat and fears
Her eyes locked onto mine— burning with something that shouldn't exist in a human. She was across the room, chained yet somehow still posed a great threat, her body twisting unnaturally in the chair as she tried her best to get towards me— dragging herself along the floor in desperation.
The men surged forward in response.
One of them grabbed at her shoulders. She reacted in a blur, teeth clamping down on the nearest neck. The sickening pop and hiss of blood pumping into the room made me want to vomit. My vision blurred, eyes watering, a metallic tang filling my nose. I swallowed despite the bile rising in my throat.
Every second stretched long enough to make me feel even more sick. I could hear the wet ripping of flesh, the chains rattling, the harsh grunts and screams of the soldiers struggling to restrain her. She thrashed with inhuman strength, jerking like a marionette being controlled by a manic puppeteer.
Until suddenly—
One precise strike to head, and her body went limp. The chains slackened, clanging against the floor. Silence looked over the room— suffocating.
My breaths came out ragged as my eyes flickered over the carnage.
I'd rather die than live in a world that's come to this.