1 The Unwilling

"Fuck, I didn't think I was going to survive."

A young woman in her early twenties stepped out of the small grocery store. She pulled out the elastic band that held her auburn hair back and ran her fingers through her shoulder length hair.

"Don't be so dramatic. It's not like it's the holidays, Fry, it's just a busy day."

Next to her walked a young man with curly brown hair and glasses. Behind them was another young man who pulled out a cigarette from the pack hidden in his shirt pocket.

"Any day having to deal with that many people is a bad day. Pete, you're still too naive for this type of work."

He lit the cigarette and leaned against the building. His black hair had been left to grow wild, though not long enough to be tied back. Out of the trio, he stood out the most due to the lack of life in his eyes.

All three were dressed the same in the store's uniform. They were standing at the back of the building taking a break after a rush.

"Gideon understands me, and don't call me that. Only Gideon gets to call me that."

Fry punched Pete's arm, he raised his hands and took a step back.

"God, can't you control your girlfriend?"

Gideon laughed and put out his cigarette in the designated container.

"I think I hear Mr. Meyers calling me, gotta go."

"Coward!"

Gideon turned to head back in just as the door opened to reveal their boss. Mr. Meyers was a man in his early fifties with a friendly face and a ball cap advertising the local bait shop. This was a man who had worn a ball cap his whole life and would not be recognized without one.

"Gideon, there are some cops here that want to speak with you."

"What about?"

Mr. Meyers shrugged his shoulders, "They said it's something about your father."

The other two were about to joke with Gideon about cops coming to see him when they heard why they were there. Gideon was not the type to talk about his personal life. Having cops come to your job to talk with you about a parent usually meant something bad.

Gideon, on the other hand, lowered his brows. He followed his boss back inside and to his office where the officers were waiting. The moment he stepped into the office he knew that they were not normal cops. They were both wearing suits, hair cut short, their eyes were guarded and aware of their surroundings.

One of the officers was lanky, though muscular, with brown hair and brown eyes. The second one had a broader build, muscular, with blond hair and green eyes. Neither of them looked like they saw the sun often.

Mr. Meyers left them to talk in private. He was already planning on letting Gideon off for the rest of the day.

"Soren Valle?"

The blond haired suit stepped forward. Gideon shook his head as he took a cigarette out of the pack and played with it.

"Sorry, wrong person. My name is Gideon Harper, not this Sorell guy."

"Nice try. It's been a while since we updated your information, but there is no mistaking you for anyone else."

Gideon shrugged and turned away.

"Your father blew up the lab in the building he was working at. We've been trying to find him for over a week now."

He put the cigarette in his mouth and placed a hand on the doorknob.

"None of my business."

"Whatever was in the lab is contagious. You're the only one who might know where he's hiding."

Bastard. Not caring that he was inside, he lit the cigarette and took a long drag. When he turned around his face was void of any emotion. I guess there is no point in being Gideon any longer. Time to pack that one up.

"It's been almost eight years since I last saw him. I don't have a damn thing to do with him. Can't help you."

He did not pause as he opened the door and walked out. He went to take another drag of the cigarette, realized that he was inside the store, and put it out in his left hand. Fucking bastard, why now?

"Mr. Valle, I'm afraid you don't have a choice. You're coming with us."

"Why didn't you say so in the beginning?"

He rolled his eyes and turned to look at the two suits that had followed him. He took a moment to calculate his chances of escaping and decided that he respected the store owner too much to cause trouble. He chose to go along with the suits until he was ready to run. There was also a small part of him that was curious about what had happened.

"Fry, let the boss man know that I'm taking the rest of the day off."

Soren walked through the empty checkout that Fry was manning. She looked at him curiously and nodded.

"Don't slack off too much."

"Eh, you know I excel at slacking off."

He waved as he walked through the sliding doors, the two suits following behind him. They led him to a black car parked in the front. He tapped the front wheel, his eyes glancing down at the yellow line that was hidden under the car.

"Someone skip the parking part of the driving skills?"

He opened the passenger door and slid into the front seat. The brown haired suit shot him a dirty look before getting into the back seat. The blond sat in the driver's seat and ignored his comment.

"So, do I get the privilege of knowing your names? Or do I get to make up names for you?"

"I'm agent Issac and that's agent Gill."

"FBI?"

"Something like that. Mind putting your seatbelt on?"

Soren slouched in the seat and took out the pack of cigarettes. Instead of buckling his seatbelt, he tapped the pack against his leg. Agent Issac does not force him and drove away. Soren finally puts the cigarette pack away after taking one out, but when he goes to light it, agent Issac reaches out to stop him.

"No smoking in the car, company rules."

"Sure."

Soren put the lighter away but kept the cigarette out, playing with it in his hand. He turned to look out the window. He was observing everything around him and plotting out the route he would take. He had already memorized the city when he first moved there, three years ago.

This had been the longest he had stayed in one place since he left home eight years ago. Normally he would not stay longer than a year. He had grown comfortable here, had gotten attached and it had left him vulnerable.

It took about ten minutes for them to reach their destination; a pharmaceutical company by the name of Monarch Industries. It was in a five story building set at the corner of the block. Agent Issac pulled into the parking lot to the left of the building and parked near the back.

"Nice place."

Soren took his time getting out of the car. Agent Gill kept glancing at him, his left hand clenched tightly enough that it had turned white. Soren shot him a smile as he walked by, following agent Issac.

The main floor had the appearance of an ordinary business. The people were split between those that wore suits and those that wore casual dress with a white lab coat. Soren could tell the difference between those who were civilians and those who were government trained; more than half were government trained including a few wearing a white lab coat.

They made a beeline to the elevator located behind the receptionist's desk and went to the third floor. This floor was more like a government building. There were only a handful of people walking down the hall and they were all wearing suits. There were no pictures, no decorations, but it had enough cameras to stock an electronics shop.

Agent Gill left them while agent Issac led Soren into an interrogation room. Soren sat down, slouching as he had in the car, and played with the cigarette that was still in his hand. A moment later agent Gill came into the room and dropped a file on the table before sitting down next to agent Issac.

"Go ahead, take a look."

Soren sat forward and pulled the folder closer. He flipped through the incident reports from the initial incident to what had happened afterward. Pictures were behind the reports, they were detailed and showed a gruesome scene.

A week ago the lab that his father had worked in for the last twenty odd years had blown up, though the building itself was relatively unscathed. There were signs that it had been intentional and the current theory was that his father, Fabian Valle, had caused it.

Two days ago the survivors had become violent and unpredictable. One day ago their physical state had begun to deteriorate. The eyes were bloodshot and the pupils had begun to change colors. These changes had prompted the government to pull everyone in for observation.

Just that morning they had gone to retrieve one of the survivors and were greeted by a shocking scene. When they stepped into the house their senses were assaulted by the smell of blood. In the kitchen, they had discovered the survivor, a lab assistant. His appearance had changed into that of a dried corpse.

He had been kneeling over the body of his wife and was eating her. Soren read through the reports and looked through the pictures without any outward changes to his expression. Once he had looked through everything he closed the folder and put it back on the table.

"Showing me this isn't going to change my answer. The only places he ever went were home and work. I seriously doubt that it changed in the last eight years."