Infected

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I have fought it too long and finally succumbed to the Splotchy Strain. It's a story virus that people pass around like a wet hacking cough. But this no normal strain. It's constantly mutating. Each person infected must add a little to the story given to them already in progress and then try to infect (reinfecting is allowed) other bloggers with it.

I really dig the concept. Each person tagged creates an alternate universe branch to the same root beginning and things get all kinds of mad, multi-dimensional timeline shit up in here. What the hell did I just say?

Anyway, here is the story thus far. I will add my bit and pass it on. Also, if you so choose, you can end the story.


The bus was more crowded than usual. It was bitterly cold outside, and I hadn't prepared for it. I noticed that a fair number of the riders were dressed curiously. As I glanced around, I stretched my feet and kicked up against a large, heavy cardboard box laying under the seat in front of me. (Splotchy)

Its owner, a fat shifty-looking hillbilly, slouched uncomfortably under the weight of his Bulgarian army surplus wool coat and cap. I could tell he wasn't cut out for this weather. He jerked around, almost spastic, when he felt the box tap against his feet. He gulped and stared at me bug-eyed, one obscene rivulet of sweat running down his temple, down along his jaw, finally disappearing somewhere between his second chin and the fake fur collar of his coat.

Right away, and for no good reason, he pissed me off. (Bubs)

He would not stop staring at me. I could hear his wheezing breath. I could smell every stinking minute of his sputtering life. My muscles tensed.

We were a little isolated from the rest of the riders. I looked around. Apart from a couple greasy-looking hippies stealing glances in my direction, everyone was in their own dazed world. Another rivulet of sweat began the long journey down the hillbilly's fat face. He licked his lips.

Enough was enough. I shot my arm up and popped him right between the eyes, snapping his head back. He slumped forward. I felt my anger slowly recede. I reached over him, took the cap off his head and placed it on my own. It smelled like a slaughterhouse, but it would keep me warm.

In the corner of my eye, I noticed the hippies making their way over to me. The man, wearing a dirty poncho and sporting a handlebar mustache, sat down in my seat. I reflexively scooted over to not have him in my lap. The girl, a smallish brunette wearing heavy black eyeliner and a shapeless green coat, sat behind me.

"You see, Snow?" the man said. "I knew he was the one. Did you see that jab?"

"Whatever," Snow said.

"That was great, man. Snow thought the guy in front of you was the one."

He must have spotted confusion in my eyes. "We saw the box, but we didn't know if it was yours." The man smiled broadly. "I'm Rain. You're Leaf, right?"

I looked at him more closely. He was wearing a shoulder holster under his poncho. He had deep green eyes that were sharp and serious. The smile left his face as abruptly as it had appeared. "You better get the box ready." (Splotchy)

"Don't listen to him." Instantly my eyes locked onto the source of the plea. To my astonishment, it was coming from the box. Talking to no one in particular, I asked the obvious question. "Did that box just talk?"

Rain's composure instantly changed. A relaxed and inviting demeanor turned into tense ice. "We don't have time for chitchat. We're here to help. Now get your shit in check and let's get rolling." I guess being on a bus doing 65mph down the highway was not rolling enough for him.

"He's lying to you." The box whispered. I still couldn't tell if Rain or Snow could hear the box or if they were just ignoring it. If they couldn't hear it, then what did that say about my current sanity? If they could hear it, then I knew I was in deep.

"They're not here to help." Venom, pain and truth could all be heard in the box's words. Rain's hands never moved but seemed to be creeping towards his holster at the same time. He said, "I know what you're thinking."

The box said, "Look down." I took a millisecond glance. I saw what it was trying to show me. Rain followed my glance instinctively but did not understand. His distraction gave me the time to do what I needed to. There was no going back.

In one quick motion, I reached over and pulled the gun out of Rain's holster while simultaneously pulling my own out of my coat. One second later, both barrels were aimed at their foreheads.

Rain was still startled, but Snow was quicker on the uptake. She knew what was happening and went for her side arm under her coat the second I started moving, but she was too late. I squeezed both triggers. There was a flash, thunder and, suddenly, a lot more Snow and Rain around the bus.

The other passengers lit up in panic. A large older woman near the front stood up on her seat and screamed as if she had seen a rat. People were screaming and pushing to get closer to the exits and away from me and the still falling bodies. The box had a siren like quality to its voice. "We have to leave this place."

I picked up the cardboard cube. When I had first accidentally kicked the box, it had seemed heavy. Now, it had almost no weight at all. I looked down at Rain's feet. They were fitted in standard NSA issued footwear. Sloppy.

I looked forward. Through his passenger mirror I saw the bus driver was stunned with his mouth agape. The whole incident had locked him in an automatically driving stupor even though the rest of the occupants were screaming and hitting him to pull over and stop.

Suddenly, a large black object flew past the windows and disappeared. I couldn't tell what it was in such a brief glimpse, but my subconscious screamed "unmarked helicopter" and shared that knowledge. That's when the roof disintegrated. (Manx)

Continue this story virus if you so choose...
I tag:

Tim
D-Cap
Cowboy The Cat
John
Anon Com
Johann
and finally, Splotchy(reinfecting), because he deserves it for starting it all.

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