Violet Fairbanks woke with a start. The first thing she registered was that she was in a tiny black room. She was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and if she reached her arms out on both sides, she could place her palms flat against the walls. It took her a second to remember that she was in a janitors closet. After the outbreak, Violet had figured the safest place was the news station. After all, they had a helicopter right?
Unfortunately, her and Mercy had to learn that the city was encased in a dome the hard way. By crashing a news helicopter into it. Needing somewhere to sleep, Violet had found a tiny janitors closet and, though it was cramped, it was the safest place she could think of at the time. She glanced at her watch. It'd only been two hours. Damn.
On her lap, her little sister Mercy slept peacefully, arms wrapped tightly about her waist, head pillowed in her thigh. Violet might be tempted to stroke her sister's blonde-and-pink hair with a smile if it weren't for the loud banging that filled the room. What the hell? She snapped her head up to find that the door was shuddering as if something was throwing itself against it over and over again. SHIT!
The bolts on the door were beginning to give way and Violet reacted instantly, kicking her legs up against the wood to hold it closed. The shuddering of the wood against her feet shook her and she woke Mercy roughly. "Honey-bee." She hissed in the darkness and slapped a dagger into the sleepy eleven year-olds hand. "Crisis." It took Mercy less than a second to realize what was going on and rushed to pack their things, throwing them in Violet's black duffel bag.
Not fast enough. The door was giving way to whatever was on the other side. "HURRY UP MERCY!" She shrieked, just as the girl slapped a pistol in her hand and slid the bag on her shoulder. "Ready." She heard her sister's breathy whisper in the dark and Violet nodded, taking her feet from the door and hopping to her feet, pushing Mercy back against the wall behind her as the door burst open.
Light flooded the room, and Violet could now see their attacker clearly. Infected. No doubt about it. Without a moment's hesitation, she raised the gun in her hand and put a bullet in his head. "Vi!" She heard Mercy gasp behind her. "He was a person once!"
Violet rolled her eyes and slipped her gun in her belt at her hip, grabbing hold of her eleven year-old sister's wrist and dragging her roughly from the closet. "Yeah. A person who was trying to kill us Mercy. For all he cares, I put him out of his misery." She let out a shapr breath as she dragged her sister out the door and into an alley, gripping her frail wrist tightly.
"Vi! Vi stop! With the helicopter out, where are we going to go?! You're hurting my arm!" Mercy's voice begged as Violet dragged her along.
Her pace didn't slow one bit, but she dropped her sisters hand and sighed, running her fingers through long blonde-and-colored-tipped hair. "We're going to the only place we have left baby girl."
"We're going to the only place we have left baby girl." Mercy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she struggled to make her skinny legs keep pace with her fast-moving sister. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
"What are you talking about Violet? Dads place? Are you insane?! Did that thing infect you or something?! We can't go back there, he'll kill us after the way we ran out on him like that!" She sped up after her sister, but as she looked about, the route they were taking wasn't leading them towards "home." It was familiar, but not headed towards their fathers house.
"Shut the hell up Mercy! Just trust me okay?! If anyone knows what to do, it's Uncle Jack."
Now that made sense, so Mercy shut her mouth and simply followed as Violet led them towards their uncle's bar, taking back alleys to avoid open streets. "Uncle Jack? What if he's.." She stopped, choked up. There was no way she could even consider that. Instead, she just followed her sister silently.
After about fifteen minutes of speed-walking, the two of them stood across the street from the bar her uncle owned. From where they stood, Mercy could make out a small piece of paper tapped to the door, and the neon light hanging over the door flashed different colors, lighting the street in green, blue, red, and yellow. The J in Jack's flickered, and Mercy shivered for some reason. This usually comforting sight seemed somehow foreign.
Without waiting for Vi, Mercedes Fairbanks crossed the street to the glass door. On the piece of paper she had spotted, was Jack's familiar handwriting. Kill me before I hurt you. Please. A shudder coursed it's way through her veins and Mercy turned to look at Violet, who was now standing over her shoulder. "No." She gasped. Not Uncle Jack. Her millionaire Uncle who'd been diagnosed with four different kinds of cancers had caught the disease. Somehow she couldn't wrap her head around it. Uncle Jack had always been their rock. Their solid ground. When things got bad at home, his bar was always open to them. Mercy had asked him once, why he didn't just take them away from their father and he'd told them that it was because he couldn't raise kids. With four different kinds of cancers, it would be impossible. But they were always free to stop by for a beer, a chat, or a place to sleep.
Sucking in her breath, Mercy pushed open the door. The place was a mess. Colored lights gave the place an eerie glow, reflecting on the shiny black marble floor beneath her feet. Her shoes stuck slightly as she stepped across broken glass. Dried booze all over the floor. The soft hum of electric lights. The place was creepy without it's usual heart-pounding music pulsing through the air.
She advanced slowly to the bar, just behind Violet. Above it, hung the neon sign Jack loved so much, flickering brightly in the dark. Age is not a number, but a state of mind. Uncle Jack's motto. "Who's there? Te raspy, drunk voice of her Uncle Jack came as he rounded the corner, stumbling slightly, eyes glazed. Violet grasped Mercy's wrist and shoved her behind her protectively, raising a gun on the only other person they trusted other than each other. Mercy noticed her sister's hand shaking violently. Uncle Jack stopped. "Sweety-pie, you're going to shoot me? Have you really become so heartless? It's me! Uncle Jack!" For a second, Mercy almost believed him, but then a smile spread across his face. Slow and wicked. A smile that surely did not belong to her uncle.
But Violet was lowering her shaking hand, wanting to believe, and out of the corner of her eye, Mercy saw Jack ready himself for the pounce. "Violet do it!" She shouted and lunged forward, forcing her hand back up and squeezing the trigger with her sister's finger. A loud boom and her beloved uncle lay dead on the floor.
Mercy looked down at his body, shaking visibly from head to toe. "Now what?" She whispered as she wrapped her arms around her frail body, voice hoarse.