The Transgress

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a back story of a longer work that I am writing. It came to me one evening when all I can do is think.

Submitted: November 28, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 28, 2018



*This is a prequel backdrop of a novel that I am currently writing.



She watched, read, and heard of the reports on the news. The people from the CDC in Atlanta and Vermont are puzzled by the oddity in the entire world that is embraced by it when she stood with a cigarette in her mouth, overlooking at the ambulance parking lot from the trauma ward where she has worked for the past eight years now. The effects of the disease is unknown when people affected by it shows symptoms of a granular fever, impinging with veins popping out of the infected person’s forehead when they start showing signs of dementia and insanity that is brought upon something that is unknown to the people that are observing it. By the time someone has control of one infected person for observation, the design of the illness jumps so fast like a virus. That is what it is. A virus that is capable of jumping from person to person that fast.

Alyssa Vandersandt, age thirty nine stood out from the trauma ward with four other residents that are grinding the overnight oil, working over charts, graphs, probabilities and figures. The sirens come and go, sometime coming in with no sirens at all when Alyssa stifled at the many ambulances that are coming and going in this small, quaint, and quiet little town. She dyed her hair from the local salon when she realized that her hair is showing more gray, wondering about herself getting old when the news is getting more and more aware about the rampant acts of violence that is circumventing through town. Then something happened in this town when one woman that started to show symptoms of the illness when she came in one morning, coughing up a fit when she came to a woman that had an early appointment before the sun came up on another day with the chronological morning being already half done.

The woman who was the infected is named Greta Allman, who owned the salon for the past nineteen years when she came into contact with the woman by the name of Henrietta Swann. Greta Allman was past the first stage of the infection when she started to see people that weren’t there, accosting her to do something evil past the point of complete reasoning. Greta shut the door behind her, stopping at the first mirror that is in her establishment when a girl appeared that she had never seen before in her life.

“Do it, Ms. Allman. Do it in the name of Santa Claus.” The girl barely stood in front of the mirror with her eyes black and her irises dead. Greta smiled as she shook her head as she couldn’t sleep this past week when the little girl drove her to the point of insanity. The girl talked about all night long about her grandmother betraying Santa Claus for that she didn’t get her pony. The little girl talked at the woman whom felt the rise of a cough go on when she started to bunch up the blankets that are around her head and over her body now. She knew about the rise of murders all over the world now when the little girl didn’t stop.

“Get my revenge. Get my revenge. Get my revenge. I want my pony!” The little girl got onto her bed and bounced up and down it. Greta didn’t feel the pressure on the bed when she closed her eyes, shaking her head from side to side when she kept her eyes closed. Her ears are still open though when she continued to hear the little girl wanting her revenge, over and over again.

By the end of those seven grueling days with her temperature spiking and her not even knowing about it, she succumbed to the madness in her mind. She looked at the little girl that is barely in the mirror on the bottom when Greta nodded her head in acceptance, flaunting to Henrietta that is sitting in the salon chair, looking at her with some worry upon her face.

“You don’t look so good, dear? Are you sleeping well?”

“Just fine, I have been sleeping better now. I will be sleeping better tonight.” Greta smiled with the red inflamed veins growing on her forehead. Henrietta smiled a little, unconvinced for some seconds before that smile receded down to a feeling of comfortable essence.

“How is your scalp? Getting any more dandruff?”

“Yes, some; thank you for supplying me with a different shampoo.” Henrietta looked up with her head extended when Greta smiled as she went to grab a couple cutting supplies from her drawer.

“How is your granddaughter? I never saw her before.” Greta asked Henrietta when Henrietta thought for a spell.

“She is doing fine. She just started second grade this year. Ever since what was going on is going on, they switched her to homeschooling. They say that the worst of it is in major cities.”

“Oh dear, it is horrible. I have been going to church more now, hoping that this is not the end of the world or something.” Greta got the cutting scissors from the bottom of the drawer as the light from the mirror continued to glow. The lights border all around the glass of the mirror when Greta came back to the back of the chair with the scissors still in her right hand.

“The end of the world,” Henrietta came up from the back of the chair with her eyes glazed in worry.

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, you see that all over the world, people are praying to god in their own way. Thousands of people are dying every day with fathers killing their children in their beds while they sleep. The young are creating gangs in the streets to do whatever they want to do on the old. Times are changing for the worst like we are in some sort of exodus from the peace of the world that once was.”

Henrietta smiled a little but something felt wrong. She knew that Greta is not feeling well herself today when she started to come up with an excuse in her mind that is most reasonable. Did she leave the pot on the stove that is burning over with the gas range still on? Did the pilot light from the furnace go out when she cocked her head with the cutting scissors still in Greta’s hands? There are many possibilities flowing through her aging mind when Greta brought the cutting scissors close to her neck before she shivered a little, rousing the cutting scissor up to her hair when she started cutting her white hair that is all in a frizzle. Her consciousness is far from sensible when she cut her hair a little uneven now.

“My, it has been a long time since I have seen you.”

“My hands don’t work the way they used to. My mind is not ample to drive as well.”

Greta smiled but within that smile, it is the smile of lies and deceit, the smile that can be seen through the reflection of a broken mirror.

“Oh sure, we don’t want you getting hurt now. Do we?” She continued cutting her hair when she cut her middle finger on her left hand. She didn’t feel it as she continued cutting her hair with the white seething over red that flowed down her thinning scalp.

“It is bad for all of us for you to be getting hurt now.” Greta smiled some more when she reached over to fetch the clippers that are on the table. She doesn’t have the clips on them when she continued to rub her head now, not cutting anymore.

The blood poured over her scalp when Henrietta looked into the mirror, realizing the blood that is coming over her forehead when she started to scream bloody murder.

Greta grabbed her by the shoulders and kept her down when she turned on the clippers with her left hand.

“For that pony that you didn’t get her,” Greta smiled with her smile turning over into something insane, ripped out from the horrible illustrations from some children’s book of madness when Greta brought the clippers down on the little old lady that is screaming and screaming still.

“You look so wonderful!” Greta graced a laugh as she started to work on the magnificence of the human head. She did it with fastness while Henrietta started to scream harder.

What happened in the salon is something that Alyssa didn’t want to think about when she finished her cigarette and dropped it onto the tarmac. She crushed it under her shoe when she placed her hands into her pockets. The ambulance (or ambulances) should be coming soon. When there is a star that is shining in the sky. Alyssa didn’t know about astronomy when she centered to look at the star in the night sky, wondering what is happening when somewhere a siren can be heard in the distance.

This night, she will get a patient through the trauma ward consisting to be released from his restraints. He consist that he was only making dinner for his wife. In the end though, he lied. What he did was killed her with a roofing hammer. There was blood all over his shirt when he started to show the symptoms of the virus that is plaguing his body. There are veins all over his forehead and his temperature is elevating at 103.7. He started convening with someone that is not even there when he started threatening some of the staff that is there before they sedated him but to no use. They can’t even knock him out on a simple dose of sleeping medication. He only awakens with his personality changing, threatening everyone around him with murder when he started thrashing on the gurney like a drowning fish. After that threat, he started pleading everyone to let him out of the restraints like a frightened puppy, not even looking hostile anymore when Alyssa advised everyone not to touch the patient when she also considered of throwing him in the quarantine with her mind sounding absurd to begin with.

They never had a quarantine station, never. Alyssa knew that it is going to be a long night when she never knew that by eight months from now, she will not have a home. By ten months, countries will see the fires burn bright from Oppenheimer’s prediction of his fear of the world that will see the lasting power of absolution that will lie in supreme death within the last minutes of human life. The President of the United States knows of this when she succumbed to the virus that has a 95% probability that the entire world will be infected. The president killed his entire cabinet with a Mac-10 and commanded a couple of other people that are infected from the virus when the bombs commenced by the leaders of the world that share the same fate.

The people of the world commandeered shuttles and jettisoned into space by the high regards of the scientists and militants that stayed behind when they now orbited the earth in search of the answers of the virus that will be named, “The Shutter” by some pirating engineers that are infected and kept on saying, “The Shutter, The Shutter. By God, The Shutter is among us!”

How it comes to be is something that cannot be understood when it still keeps happening in space. Where did it come from? How are people still being infected that shows no signs of it being aware on any groupings at all? They orbit the earth in search for answers still.


© Copyright 2019 Adam Steele. All rights reserved.

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