Apocalypse, Part 4
Title: Apocalypse [4/?]
Disclaimer: Don't own Heroes. Don't claim to own Heroes. But I sure do love Heroes.
Main Characters: Matt Parkman, Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker
Word Count: 4649
Rating: This chapter is rated M for violence. *shock, horror*
Genre: General/Drama/ZOMBIE.
Notes: I'm so terrible at getting these out fast. Hopefully, now that most of my work visa stuff is done, I will get them out a little quicker. Also here is a time table of the 'shifts' Matt, Mohinder and Holly take each day. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
April 30, 2008. 4:53 a.m.
He glanced around the side of the building, pressing his face only and inch or two past the brick. Although he had been limping badly, he had managed to put quite a distance between himself and his pursuers. He turned away and pressed his back against the brick wall as he struggled to catch his breath. His five o'clock shadow had grown out into something thicker and the bags under his eyes had sunk even lower. He slid down the brick wall, tearing the back of his expensive-looking jacket in the process. He leaned forward and began to nurse his swollen ankle, hissing at even the lightest of touches.
“Damn it,” he swore, clenching his eyes shut and pressing his head back against the bricks. The pale light of the moon and the soft orange glow of street lamps bounced off his weary face. He sat like that for a few moments, just breathing, when a distinct and hollow moan echoed through the empty streets. His eyes popped open at the sound, the chilling call of certain death. He slowly peeked around the corner of the building again. The hoard of pursuers were still two hundred feet away, but he struggled to his feet anyways. They were a slow moving bunch, but the more distance between them, the better.
After a deep breath surely meant to muster courage, he stepped from his alleyway, exposing himself in the openness of the roads. His pursuers took immediate notice and began shuffling towards him, their gray lips pulled back in uninhibited hunger. He spun away from them and began to move away as quickly as his injured ankle would allow him to. The chase wasn't moving very quickly, but he was managing to put more and more distance between himself and the hungry hoard.
Then, suddenly, the chorus of moans and shuffling feet behind him were accentuated by a particularly violent and eager sounding utterance, more like a sharp snarl than a simple moan. He spun around to see who, or what, had made the noise. From the middle of the pack of mindless consumers, a quick and zealous figure was weaving its way forward. It broke from the pack a moment later, its stance fierce and alert.
The man turned and fled, hopping more than running away. There was another savage snarl, followed by the sounds of a quick and eager pursuit. As he was hobbling away, the man cast a glance over his shoulder and saw the crazed individual closing the distance faster than he was moving away. The man stopped fleeing and turned to his predator, raising his fists threateningly. With a fluidity he hadn't seen in the others, the madly determined pursuer sprung from the ground and knocked the man roughly to the ground. He used his fists and uninjured leg to try and ward off his attacker, but its cold and sharp teeth were soon ripping at the skin of his face. He screamed in agony and pressed both of his hands on his attacker's face. He managed to pry the jaws off of his face, taking a large portion of his cheek with it. He scrambled to his feet and began hobbling away again, praying for mercy and forgiveness, praying for protection. He was knocked to the ground again, snapping teeth grabbing his ear and pulling, pulling so viciously that the skin tore and his ear was no longer on his head.
He screamed and cried, trying to claw his way across the pavement. The attacker on his back chewed for only a brief moment before lowering its head and taking a chunk of skin from the back of the man's neck. Blood flowed from his fresh wounds, staining the pavement around his quickly tiring body. He struggled weakly for a moment more, rolling and kicking, ending up on his back. He tried weakly to keep the snapping teeth away from his flesh by pressing up on his attacker's chin. His assailants devotion to its cause out muscled the man's weakening arms. Jaws were lowered and a moment later there was only a mess of gurgling blood where the man's throat used to be.
***
Molly screamed in utter terror, flailing her peaky body around, warding off monsters that were not there. She screeched Matt's name through her sobs over and over again, begging for his protection and embrace. Such was her terror that when it came, she tried to escape his comforting arms as if they were rotted and evil. He was firm, though. He was firm in his comforts and gentle with his touch. So much so that she cast away her fears and melted into his embrace, sobbing freely into his chest.
April 30, 2008. 5:06 a.m.
Matt closed Molly's door with a soft click and issued and hearty sigh. Mohinder and Holly were standing just outside, their bleary faces racked with worry. Mohinder's features held a little anger, almost an accusation. Matt knew why and the same fears were coursing through his body. Could it really be?
“Is she alright?” Holly asked, interrupting Matt's brief train of thought. She wrapped the oversized robe a little tighter around her body and looked earnestly at him. “I've never heard anybody scream with so much terror in my life.”
Matt shook his head, then nodded it, unable to decide which gesture properly fit the situation. “She's fine. She just had a, uh...” He cast a meaningful look at Mohinder. “...Nightmare.”
“God, poor girl. She shouldn't have to be going through this. Is she asleep again?” When Matt replied in the affirmative, Holly nodded. “Okay. I'm going to sit in her room for a while, just in case it happens again. Somebody should be there if it does.” She gingerly pushed past Matt and slid into Molly's dark room.
The moment the door was closed, Mohinder glided up to Matt and spoke in hushed, serious tones. “Do you think it's him? Is he back? This is the third time in just as many days that she has had these nightmares.”
“I don't see how he could be,” Matt replied, not missing a beat. “He's locked away. The only way that he's getting out is if I let him out and I'll be damned if I let him out anytime soon.”
“Your father was a lot more powerful than you are, Matt. Maybe he found a way out.”
Matt shook his head. “No. No, he was terrified of being left in there because he knew there wasn't a way out. The only reason I escaped with Molly was because it wasn't my nightmare. Unless he gets help from me, he's trapped.” Matt paused for a moment and looked at the door to Molly's room, pink flowery stickers randomly dispersed over its surface. “Something happened last night. I didn't think much of it at the time. I was tired and unfocused and I just chalked it up to fatigue.”
“Chalked what up?”
Matt turned back to Mohinder, his features showing a slight vestige of shame and a healthy dosage of dread. “I was there when Molly had her second nightmare, last night. I tried to listen in, to hear what she was dreaming. But...”
“But what?” Mohinder asked, his eyes widening. When Matt didn't answer, Mohinder pressed him. “Matt, tell me!”
“There wasn't anything there. She wasn't there. It was just silence. It was...like Estelle.”
Mohinder's jaw dropped and a violent flurry of thoughts exploded from him. Fearful thoughts, angry thoughts, even a prayer to somebody named Kali. “You're not saying that she's going to..”
“I'm not saying anything,” Matt cut in, unwilling to have any notion of Molly's demise spoken aloud, although it simmered uncomfortably below his thoughts. “I'm just telling you what happened. Like I said, it could have been because I was just tired. It could have been because she was so scared that she wouldn't let me in. I don't know, maybe there was some mental static between our abilities. I know that sounds lame, but it's happened before.”
A contemplative look passed over Mohinder's tired features. His eyes began searching for something within his own mind. Suddenly, the deep rumbling of his frightened thoughts lightened considerably and he looked at Matt with a renewed focus. “No, no I think you're on to something there.”
“What do you mean?”
Mohinder raised a hand to silence Matt as he dashed over to his desk. He opened his small filing cabinet and began scrolling through dossiers. “Remember when you told me that your mind reading was becoming something more?” Mohinder selected a thin folder and presented it to Matt. “I think the same thing may be happening to Molly.”
Matt looked down at the folder. There was a picture of a pretty teenager with auburn hair stuck under a paper clip. He could read the name and recognized the word 'clairvoyant', but the rest was gibberish to him.
“Clover McLaughlin is a clairvoyant, just like Molly. She was contacted by the Company and agreed to help with our research. I've been studying her ability for some time now. Recently she told me of some bizarre dreams that she had been having. She dreamt of a man with a shotgun entering a local convenience store and murdering its owner. The next day the police found a man's body in the alleyway behind a convenience store who had sustained a shotgun wound to the chest.” Mohinder flipped to the next page. On it was a rough sketch of a human figure lying on its back. Above it, connected by three squiggly lines, was another human figure. “At first I dismissed the dream as a coincidence. The next time I spoke to her, she reported the same thing. She had a dream that reflected an incident of identical nature. After a little researched I determined that...” Mohinder paused for a moment. “Matt, what do you know about astral projection?”
Matt shrugged helplessly. “I don't even know what that is.”
“Astral projection occurs when the ethereal body, or soul, if you will, removes itself from the physical body and travels of its own accord,” Mohinder explained in hushed tones. “It's not the Nightmare Man, Matt. Molly has simply advanced to the next rung in her evolutionary ladder! This new ability is still in its infancy, so its likely she has no control over it. She probably doesn't even know she has it. I think that when she sleeps, her ethereal body is projected beyond this apartment. That's why you couldn't hear her thoughts, Matt. Because she wasn't there!”
Matt nodded comprehension. “How sure can you be?”
Mohinder's face brightened and he sighed with relief. “I'm completely sure. Given your assurance that your father is no longer a threat and the fact that I have seen this before, I don't see how it could be anything else.”
“Okay, good.” Matt replied. He peaked over Mohinder's shoulder at Molly's shut door. “Now how do we stop it?”
“Stop it?” Mohinder's brows furrowed with incredulity. “Why would we try to stop it? This is the next step in her personal evolution, Matt. We can't deny her that.”
Matt's eyes narrowed and his jaw grew tight. “Despite what you may think, Mohinder,” he replied tersely, “these abilities aren't always a blessing. Whatever it is, this astral, ethereal, spirit crap...whatever it is, it's torturing Molly.”
Mohinder had the grace to look shamed and concede Matt's point. “You're right. Of course you're right, I'm sorry. But there's nothing we can do. We can't reverse evolution.”
Matt ran a hand through his hair and released an exasperated huff of air. “So what do we do?”
Mohinder shrugged and spread his hands. “I don't know. I've helped several people learn to control their abilities, maybe I can help Molly as well. Other than that, all we really can do is keep her safe.”
Matt shook his head somberly. He was frustrated, angry even, that although he had always done everything in his power to keep Molly safe, it never seemed to be enough. Fate, God, luck; whatever it was, it always seemed to find the smallest cracks in his shields and worm its ugly self into Molly's life. It was just his dumb luck that her ability had to develop further in such an unstable environment. But cynicism in this new survival situation would serve nobody, so he let his dark thoughts go. He looked down at his watch and noted the time. “It's almost five thirty. You should get some sleep. Your shift starts in a couple of hours.”
Mohinder nodded and began to shuffle away to his bedroom. “Wake me if she has another one.”
Matt nodded. “Sure. Sleep well.”
May 1, 2008. 4:12 P.M.
“This Priestly guy is full of shit!” Holly spat, slamming the letter against the table. The three of them, Matt, Mohinder and Holly, had been pouring over what little information they had been provided by their various sources. They had tried to read between the lines of every report and were coming up empty. Only a few things seemed to be certain. The dead were walking and the only way to eliminate them was to destroy the brain. There was no mention as to what caused the dead to revive, nor of any sort of cure. Matt had left their group a few minutes earlier to play a game of Connect Four with Molly.
“What makes you say that?” Mohinder asked, peering over Clover McLaughlin's file. “He seems to have been right so far.”
“I don't know...” Holly replied apprehensively. “I've been so freaked out over this invasion of dead people that I didn't really focus on what this Priestly guy was saying. See here?” she asked, sliding her chair around the table to sit beside Mohinder. She pointed to the first paragraph of Robert Priestly's letter. “It says here that there was an outbreak of...whatever they are. Zombies, I guess. Anyways, there was a supposed outbreak in Hartford, Connecticut, right?”
Mohinder nodded his understanding.
“My brother is a cop in Manchester. That's a twenty minute drive away from Hartford. The police force in Manchester falls under the same jurisdiction as the one in Hartford. They all answer to one boss, is what I'm trying to say. If there was a zombie outbreak in Hartford, how come my brother never told me?”
Mohinder shrugged. Having to siblings to grow up with, Mohinder wasn't familiar with how their relationships worked. Judging from what he had observed, however, a good deal of rivalry and animosity usually existed between sibling pairs. “It could be for any number of reasons. Maybe he didn't want to tell you.”
“My brother and I are tight. We're a cop family, we're all tight. He tells me about all the crazy shit that he's seen. Besides, if something as dangerous as walking dead people cropped up on his home turf, he'd be sure to warn me of them.”
“Are you thinking this report is a fabrication? Why would he warn us of the dangers, tell us how to dispose of them and provide a fake report?”
Holly shrugged. “I don't know. To gain legitimacy? I mean, this guy didn't offer any credentials. He didn't tell us where he is from or what his position is. He could be some corporate peon with an ugly tie or General fucking Grant of the undead! The only things he gave us are his name, which probably isn't even his real name, and that weird crest that I've never seen before.”
Mohinder fingered the letter away from her and studied the crest. It looked so familiar, like it had always been staring him in the face, but always went unnoticed. The name, too, was tickling the back of his mind. He had seen it before, he was sure of that, but perhaps in a different way. He lost himself in his thoughts, manipulating and changing the name in his mind. He dropped letters, exchanged words, thought of variations. His eyes flicked from the name to the unusual crest at the top, then back to the name. Much as Matt had described his dyslexia, the words began to swim and disappear in his mind, letters rearranging themselves until the answer was clear. The secret identity of their informant was revealed to Mohinder in a flash of cold light, chilling him to the core. His insides felt like they had turned suddenly to steel; heavy, frigid and unmoving.
The shock he felt must have been palpable. Holly leaned forward, her face eager and nervous. “What? What is it? Did you figure it out?”
Mohinder took a deep breath and stared at the sheet before him. The signature still read 'Robert Priestly', but the true identity was burned into Mohinder's mind. He pushed himself up from the table, his arms numb from the revelation. He wanted to run to Matt, to tell him of his discovery, but he wasn't sure if he legs would carry him. They moved of their own accord, however, and Mohinder found himself dashing haphazardly down the hallway to Molly's room, flinging open the door with urgency. Matt and Molly were inside, making patterns with the red and black Connect Four discs. Matt had his hand on his sidearm.
“I know who it is!” Mohinder called from the doorway, waving the letter in front of himself. “It's Bob!”
“Bob?”
“Bob! Bob Bishop!”
“What?”
“Bob Bishop of The Company, you lunkhead!” Mohinder yelled impatiently, tossing the letter to Matt on the floor.
Matt scooped up the letter, glanced at it quickly and turned back to Mohinder. “Mohinder, I don't get it.”
Mohinder was shamed to note that his hands were shaking rather violently. His innards had come alive again and were cartwheeling around uncomfortably. “I don't think I'm in a state to tell you right now, so just take it from me,” Mohinder said and opened his mind. One would think that the multitude of thoughts that whirred through people's mind every moment would make reading minds distinctly difficult, but Matt's telepathy was clear and efficient. Despite his own confusion and the endless series of questions he had, Mohinder's message seemed to register with Matt.
A deep and intense shadow passed over Matt's face, his features sinking from an amused confusion to a worried, almost angry stare. “Bob?” he asked, rising to his feet. “You're sure?”
“Given the circumstances, I don't see how it could be anybody else.”
“You think all of this...this living dead stuff is Company related?”
May 1, 2008. 8:31 P.M.
Matt pressed his ear against the door of apartment 306 and listened intently for any movement. Nothing. Still, he readied his bat as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. A preliminary scan of the room offered no ghouls so Matt stepped inside cautiously, keeping his ears alert. He inspected each room thoroughly and was only satisfied once every closet had been opened and every balcony checked. Once he was sure no undead occupied the apartment, Matt began to raid the kitchen.
The amount of food that he and Mohinder kept stocked on a regular basis was laughable at best. Half a loaf of bread, two cartons of milk, an onion that nobody could remember buying and some cereal, among a few other essentials. Since the path to the nearest store was blocked by a mass of ravenous zombies, they had resorted to raiding apartments for food. Their plan was to work from the bottom floors up, never going below the third floor for safety reasons. They expected most of the apartments to be vacant, and so far they were, but they knew never to let their guard down.
Matt opened the refrigerator and was pleased to find an unopened carton of orange juice. There was some leftover Chinese food that Matt immediately snacked on, along with a bag of baby carrots. He was placing the juice and the carrots into the tote he carried with him, when he heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway. They were light and purposeful, so he knew their owner wasn't a threat. A moment later, Holly appeared in the doorway.
“Parkman, we need to talk,” she said without preamble. She approached him and stole a handful of Chinese noodles.
“About what?” Matt asked, moving on to the pantry.
“The little conversations you and your hottie roommate have. I need to be involved in them.”
“What do you mean?” Matt put a half-eaten box of soda crackers into the bag and tried not to look at Holly.
“Cut the crap, Parkman. You know what I'm talking about, and it's not like I can't hear you, anyways. Who the hell is Bob? The walls in your apartment are paper thin. If we're going to survive all this shit, then we need to work as a team. I need to know what you know, even if the answer isn't easy.”
Matt had the grace to colour. Working as a team and looking out for one another was one of the fundamentals of being a police officer. It shamed him to think that he had lost those values so quickly. Still, would she even believe him if he told her? “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. First and foremost, I want to know what you meant when you said that you 'couldn't hear Estelle's thoughts'. Is that like, code or some shit?”
“Not... exactly.”
Holly crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. 'Fuck this. I thought I could trust Parkman, of all people.'
“You can trust me, Holly,” Matt said, meeting her eyes directly.
His message was obviously received, as her face blanched and her jaw hung open. “Shit, you two were being literal?”
“I think you should probably take a seat, Holly. This might take a while to explain...”
Matt sat Holly down on the nearby couch and started from the beginning, although determining where 'the beginning' was wasn't an easy task. He began recalling his personal story; how he found Molly under the stairs, his kidnapping, Ted Sprague. Things began to get convoluted after mentioning Ted, so he decided to reiterate his original point. “What I'm trying to say with all this is that I'm telepathic. I can hear people's thoughts. It sounds crazy, I know, but I'm telling you the truth.”
Holly remained silent for several moments after his tale of events. She chewed her lip and furrowed her brow, but Matt couldn't sense any concrete disbelief in her confused thoughts. “Fuck,” was all she managed to say after digesting Matt's story.
“Do you believe me?”
Holly sighed and gave an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders. “I don't know...crazier shit, right? I mean, if the dead are walking then anything is possible.” Then, suddenly, she began to colour to a deep shade of red as a look of embarrassed shock crossed her face.. “Wait. If you can read my mind, then...”
Matt smirked. “Yes, I know all about your wanting to molest my roommate.”
May 2, 2008. 2:12 A.M.
“Do you think she believes us?” Mohinder asked, taking a sip of tea. It wasn't chai, but it would do for now.
Matt looked apprehensive. “I don't know. She doesn't not believe us, if that makes any sense.”
They had just spend the better part of three hours taking Holly through the past year of their lives. Mohinder's research, the Company and even Sylar. Holly had listened attentively, but her body language and lack of questions made Mohinder doubt if she believed them.
“It's a lot of information to take in at once, Mohinder,” Matt continued sympathetically. “These things were actually happening to me and I barely believed them. Give her time. It's not like we can't prove it to her or anything. I'm proof, Molly's proof. You still have your father's book and most of your case files here.” His face brightened into a smirk, although the underlying tiredness and worry wasn't washed away. “By the way, she's in love with you.”
Mohinder looked taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”
“She thinks you're totally good looking, is what I mean. She won't come out and say it, but she's thinking it.”
Mohinder was suddenly grateful for his dark complexion. He could feel the heat rushing up his neck and spreading across his face. Rather than acknowledge Matt's comment, Mohinder changed the subject. “Have you told her about your other ability?”
“I...haven't, no.” At this, Matt turned away and looked at the ground. “I would appreciate it if you didn't tell her either,” he added quickly,
“Why on Earth wouldn't I? We've told her everything else.”
Matt issued a deep, regretful sigh. “Something happened at the police station...”
Mohinder's mind worked quickly to remember Matt's report of what had happened at the police station. The answer was almost immediate and rather dreadful. Mohinder's features settled into a mix of sympathy, pity and accusation. “Matt, you didn't...”
“I had to, Mohinder. If I didn't use my ability to tell her to shoot, we would both be moaning and eating people.” Matt looked up and met Mohinder's eyes candidly, eyes pleading. “Please don't tell her.”
“Matt. I think I have to. It's unfair that she has to shoulder the burden of someone's...” Mohinder spread his hands, unable to think of an appropriate word. Death didn't seem right, nor did murder. “The point is, it isn't her guilt to bear. It would be wrong if we let it rest on her soul any longer.”
Matt's gaze fell back to the ground. “I know. It's just... I'm not sure if now is the right time. We need her trust and I think if we told her we would lose that.”
Mohinder hung his head and reluctantly conceded the point. “I think you're right. We don't need intergroup paranoia layered on top of our others.” Mohinder ran a hand over his face in frustration and began to think down different avenues. He hated moral dilemmas. They always gave him a headache.
“I think we should, too,” Matt said suddenly. His eagerness to change the subject was obvious.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I think we should, too. Check on Estelle, I mean. You've been thinking about it all day and I think it's a good idea. Maybe we can learn something from her.”
Mohinder sighed. “Matt, you know I don't like it when you're in my head.”
“I know. It's just that without so many voices to filter out, yours becomes a lot louder and clearer. I can't really help it. Anyways, I think we should go for it.”
“Are you sure you're up to it? You were pretty close to her.”
Matt nodded and Mohinder knew he was putting on a brave face. “Ignoring her won't make her any less undead. Besides, I'm sure she would want to help.”
Mohinder nodded. “I'll gather my things, then.” He pushed away from the table when suddenly a terrified and heartbreaking scream came from Molly's room.
“Matt! Matt!”
Matt shared a sad and hopeless look with Mohinder before dashing off into Molly's room. Mohinder hung his head and issued a hearty, rejected sighed. She always called Matt's name and Mohinder couldn't help but let a seed of resentment take root in his heart.
Disclaimer: Don't own Heroes. Don't claim to own Heroes. But I sure do love Heroes.
Main Characters: Matt Parkman, Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker
Word Count: 4649
Rating: This chapter is rated M for violence. *shock, horror*
Genre: General/Drama/ZOMBIE.
Notes: I'm so terrible at getting these out fast. Hopefully, now that most of my work visa stuff is done, I will get them out a little quicker. Also here is a time table of the 'shifts' Matt, Mohinder and Holly take each day. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
April 30, 2008. 4:53 a.m.
He glanced around the side of the building, pressing his face only and inch or two past the brick. Although he had been limping badly, he had managed to put quite a distance between himself and his pursuers. He turned away and pressed his back against the brick wall as he struggled to catch his breath. His five o'clock shadow had grown out into something thicker and the bags under his eyes had sunk even lower. He slid down the brick wall, tearing the back of his expensive-looking jacket in the process. He leaned forward and began to nurse his swollen ankle, hissing at even the lightest of touches.
“Damn it,” he swore, clenching his eyes shut and pressing his head back against the bricks. The pale light of the moon and the soft orange glow of street lamps bounced off his weary face. He sat like that for a few moments, just breathing, when a distinct and hollow moan echoed through the empty streets. His eyes popped open at the sound, the chilling call of certain death. He slowly peeked around the corner of the building again. The hoard of pursuers were still two hundred feet away, but he struggled to his feet anyways. They were a slow moving bunch, but the more distance between them, the better.
After a deep breath surely meant to muster courage, he stepped from his alleyway, exposing himself in the openness of the roads. His pursuers took immediate notice and began shuffling towards him, their gray lips pulled back in uninhibited hunger. He spun away from them and began to move away as quickly as his injured ankle would allow him to. The chase wasn't moving very quickly, but he was managing to put more and more distance between himself and the hungry hoard.
Then, suddenly, the chorus of moans and shuffling feet behind him were accentuated by a particularly violent and eager sounding utterance, more like a sharp snarl than a simple moan. He spun around to see who, or what, had made the noise. From the middle of the pack of mindless consumers, a quick and zealous figure was weaving its way forward. It broke from the pack a moment later, its stance fierce and alert.
The man turned and fled, hopping more than running away. There was another savage snarl, followed by the sounds of a quick and eager pursuit. As he was hobbling away, the man cast a glance over his shoulder and saw the crazed individual closing the distance faster than he was moving away. The man stopped fleeing and turned to his predator, raising his fists threateningly. With a fluidity he hadn't seen in the others, the madly determined pursuer sprung from the ground and knocked the man roughly to the ground. He used his fists and uninjured leg to try and ward off his attacker, but its cold and sharp teeth were soon ripping at the skin of his face. He screamed in agony and pressed both of his hands on his attacker's face. He managed to pry the jaws off of his face, taking a large portion of his cheek with it. He scrambled to his feet and began hobbling away again, praying for mercy and forgiveness, praying for protection. He was knocked to the ground again, snapping teeth grabbing his ear and pulling, pulling so viciously that the skin tore and his ear was no longer on his head.
He screamed and cried, trying to claw his way across the pavement. The attacker on his back chewed for only a brief moment before lowering its head and taking a chunk of skin from the back of the man's neck. Blood flowed from his fresh wounds, staining the pavement around his quickly tiring body. He struggled weakly for a moment more, rolling and kicking, ending up on his back. He tried weakly to keep the snapping teeth away from his flesh by pressing up on his attacker's chin. His assailants devotion to its cause out muscled the man's weakening arms. Jaws were lowered and a moment later there was only a mess of gurgling blood where the man's throat used to be.
***
Molly screamed in utter terror, flailing her peaky body around, warding off monsters that were not there. She screeched Matt's name through her sobs over and over again, begging for his protection and embrace. Such was her terror that when it came, she tried to escape his comforting arms as if they were rotted and evil. He was firm, though. He was firm in his comforts and gentle with his touch. So much so that she cast away her fears and melted into his embrace, sobbing freely into his chest.
April 30, 2008. 5:06 a.m.
Matt closed Molly's door with a soft click and issued and hearty sigh. Mohinder and Holly were standing just outside, their bleary faces racked with worry. Mohinder's features held a little anger, almost an accusation. Matt knew why and the same fears were coursing through his body. Could it really be?
“Is she alright?” Holly asked, interrupting Matt's brief train of thought. She wrapped the oversized robe a little tighter around her body and looked earnestly at him. “I've never heard anybody scream with so much terror in my life.”
Matt shook his head, then nodded it, unable to decide which gesture properly fit the situation. “She's fine. She just had a, uh...” He cast a meaningful look at Mohinder. “...Nightmare.”
“God, poor girl. She shouldn't have to be going through this. Is she asleep again?” When Matt replied in the affirmative, Holly nodded. “Okay. I'm going to sit in her room for a while, just in case it happens again. Somebody should be there if it does.” She gingerly pushed past Matt and slid into Molly's dark room.
The moment the door was closed, Mohinder glided up to Matt and spoke in hushed, serious tones. “Do you think it's him? Is he back? This is the third time in just as many days that she has had these nightmares.”
“I don't see how he could be,” Matt replied, not missing a beat. “He's locked away. The only way that he's getting out is if I let him out and I'll be damned if I let him out anytime soon.”
“Your father was a lot more powerful than you are, Matt. Maybe he found a way out.”
Matt shook his head. “No. No, he was terrified of being left in there because he knew there wasn't a way out. The only reason I escaped with Molly was because it wasn't my nightmare. Unless he gets help from me, he's trapped.” Matt paused for a moment and looked at the door to Molly's room, pink flowery stickers randomly dispersed over its surface. “Something happened last night. I didn't think much of it at the time. I was tired and unfocused and I just chalked it up to fatigue.”
“Chalked what up?”
Matt turned back to Mohinder, his features showing a slight vestige of shame and a healthy dosage of dread. “I was there when Molly had her second nightmare, last night. I tried to listen in, to hear what she was dreaming. But...”
“But what?” Mohinder asked, his eyes widening. When Matt didn't answer, Mohinder pressed him. “Matt, tell me!”
“There wasn't anything there. She wasn't there. It was just silence. It was...like Estelle.”
Mohinder's jaw dropped and a violent flurry of thoughts exploded from him. Fearful thoughts, angry thoughts, even a prayer to somebody named Kali. “You're not saying that she's going to..”
“I'm not saying anything,” Matt cut in, unwilling to have any notion of Molly's demise spoken aloud, although it simmered uncomfortably below his thoughts. “I'm just telling you what happened. Like I said, it could have been because I was just tired. It could have been because she was so scared that she wouldn't let me in. I don't know, maybe there was some mental static between our abilities. I know that sounds lame, but it's happened before.”
A contemplative look passed over Mohinder's tired features. His eyes began searching for something within his own mind. Suddenly, the deep rumbling of his frightened thoughts lightened considerably and he looked at Matt with a renewed focus. “No, no I think you're on to something there.”
“What do you mean?”
Mohinder raised a hand to silence Matt as he dashed over to his desk. He opened his small filing cabinet and began scrolling through dossiers. “Remember when you told me that your mind reading was becoming something more?” Mohinder selected a thin folder and presented it to Matt. “I think the same thing may be happening to Molly.”
Matt looked down at the folder. There was a picture of a pretty teenager with auburn hair stuck under a paper clip. He could read the name and recognized the word 'clairvoyant', but the rest was gibberish to him.
“Clover McLaughlin is a clairvoyant, just like Molly. She was contacted by the Company and agreed to help with our research. I've been studying her ability for some time now. Recently she told me of some bizarre dreams that she had been having. She dreamt of a man with a shotgun entering a local convenience store and murdering its owner. The next day the police found a man's body in the alleyway behind a convenience store who had sustained a shotgun wound to the chest.” Mohinder flipped to the next page. On it was a rough sketch of a human figure lying on its back. Above it, connected by three squiggly lines, was another human figure. “At first I dismissed the dream as a coincidence. The next time I spoke to her, she reported the same thing. She had a dream that reflected an incident of identical nature. After a little researched I determined that...” Mohinder paused for a moment. “Matt, what do you know about astral projection?”
Matt shrugged helplessly. “I don't even know what that is.”
“Astral projection occurs when the ethereal body, or soul, if you will, removes itself from the physical body and travels of its own accord,” Mohinder explained in hushed tones. “It's not the Nightmare Man, Matt. Molly has simply advanced to the next rung in her evolutionary ladder! This new ability is still in its infancy, so its likely she has no control over it. She probably doesn't even know she has it. I think that when she sleeps, her ethereal body is projected beyond this apartment. That's why you couldn't hear her thoughts, Matt. Because she wasn't there!”
Matt nodded comprehension. “How sure can you be?”
Mohinder's face brightened and he sighed with relief. “I'm completely sure. Given your assurance that your father is no longer a threat and the fact that I have seen this before, I don't see how it could be anything else.”
“Okay, good.” Matt replied. He peaked over Mohinder's shoulder at Molly's shut door. “Now how do we stop it?”
“Stop it?” Mohinder's brows furrowed with incredulity. “Why would we try to stop it? This is the next step in her personal evolution, Matt. We can't deny her that.”
Matt's eyes narrowed and his jaw grew tight. “Despite what you may think, Mohinder,” he replied tersely, “these abilities aren't always a blessing. Whatever it is, this astral, ethereal, spirit crap...whatever it is, it's torturing Molly.”
Mohinder had the grace to look shamed and concede Matt's point. “You're right. Of course you're right, I'm sorry. But there's nothing we can do. We can't reverse evolution.”
Matt ran a hand through his hair and released an exasperated huff of air. “So what do we do?”
Mohinder shrugged and spread his hands. “I don't know. I've helped several people learn to control their abilities, maybe I can help Molly as well. Other than that, all we really can do is keep her safe.”
Matt shook his head somberly. He was frustrated, angry even, that although he had always done everything in his power to keep Molly safe, it never seemed to be enough. Fate, God, luck; whatever it was, it always seemed to find the smallest cracks in his shields and worm its ugly self into Molly's life. It was just his dumb luck that her ability had to develop further in such an unstable environment. But cynicism in this new survival situation would serve nobody, so he let his dark thoughts go. He looked down at his watch and noted the time. “It's almost five thirty. You should get some sleep. Your shift starts in a couple of hours.”
Mohinder nodded and began to shuffle away to his bedroom. “Wake me if she has another one.”
Matt nodded. “Sure. Sleep well.”
May 1, 2008. 4:12 P.M.
“This Priestly guy is full of shit!” Holly spat, slamming the letter against the table. The three of them, Matt, Mohinder and Holly, had been pouring over what little information they had been provided by their various sources. They had tried to read between the lines of every report and were coming up empty. Only a few things seemed to be certain. The dead were walking and the only way to eliminate them was to destroy the brain. There was no mention as to what caused the dead to revive, nor of any sort of cure. Matt had left their group a few minutes earlier to play a game of Connect Four with Molly.
“What makes you say that?” Mohinder asked, peering over Clover McLaughlin's file. “He seems to have been right so far.”
“I don't know...” Holly replied apprehensively. “I've been so freaked out over this invasion of dead people that I didn't really focus on what this Priestly guy was saying. See here?” she asked, sliding her chair around the table to sit beside Mohinder. She pointed to the first paragraph of Robert Priestly's letter. “It says here that there was an outbreak of...whatever they are. Zombies, I guess. Anyways, there was a supposed outbreak in Hartford, Connecticut, right?”
Mohinder nodded his understanding.
“My brother is a cop in Manchester. That's a twenty minute drive away from Hartford. The police force in Manchester falls under the same jurisdiction as the one in Hartford. They all answer to one boss, is what I'm trying to say. If there was a zombie outbreak in Hartford, how come my brother never told me?”
Mohinder shrugged. Having to siblings to grow up with, Mohinder wasn't familiar with how their relationships worked. Judging from what he had observed, however, a good deal of rivalry and animosity usually existed between sibling pairs. “It could be for any number of reasons. Maybe he didn't want to tell you.”
“My brother and I are tight. We're a cop family, we're all tight. He tells me about all the crazy shit that he's seen. Besides, if something as dangerous as walking dead people cropped up on his home turf, he'd be sure to warn me of them.”
“Are you thinking this report is a fabrication? Why would he warn us of the dangers, tell us how to dispose of them and provide a fake report?”
Holly shrugged. “I don't know. To gain legitimacy? I mean, this guy didn't offer any credentials. He didn't tell us where he is from or what his position is. He could be some corporate peon with an ugly tie or General fucking Grant of the undead! The only things he gave us are his name, which probably isn't even his real name, and that weird crest that I've never seen before.”
Mohinder fingered the letter away from her and studied the crest. It looked so familiar, like it had always been staring him in the face, but always went unnoticed. The name, too, was tickling the back of his mind. He had seen it before, he was sure of that, but perhaps in a different way. He lost himself in his thoughts, manipulating and changing the name in his mind. He dropped letters, exchanged words, thought of variations. His eyes flicked from the name to the unusual crest at the top, then back to the name. Much as Matt had described his dyslexia, the words began to swim and disappear in his mind, letters rearranging themselves until the answer was clear. The secret identity of their informant was revealed to Mohinder in a flash of cold light, chilling him to the core. His insides felt like they had turned suddenly to steel; heavy, frigid and unmoving.
The shock he felt must have been palpable. Holly leaned forward, her face eager and nervous. “What? What is it? Did you figure it out?”
Mohinder took a deep breath and stared at the sheet before him. The signature still read 'Robert Priestly', but the true identity was burned into Mohinder's mind. He pushed himself up from the table, his arms numb from the revelation. He wanted to run to Matt, to tell him of his discovery, but he wasn't sure if he legs would carry him. They moved of their own accord, however, and Mohinder found himself dashing haphazardly down the hallway to Molly's room, flinging open the door with urgency. Matt and Molly were inside, making patterns with the red and black Connect Four discs. Matt had his hand on his sidearm.
“I know who it is!” Mohinder called from the doorway, waving the letter in front of himself. “It's Bob!”
“Bob?”
“Bob! Bob Bishop!”
“What?”
“Bob Bishop of The Company, you lunkhead!” Mohinder yelled impatiently, tossing the letter to Matt on the floor.
Matt scooped up the letter, glanced at it quickly and turned back to Mohinder. “Mohinder, I don't get it.”
Mohinder was shamed to note that his hands were shaking rather violently. His innards had come alive again and were cartwheeling around uncomfortably. “I don't think I'm in a state to tell you right now, so just take it from me,” Mohinder said and opened his mind. One would think that the multitude of thoughts that whirred through people's mind every moment would make reading minds distinctly difficult, but Matt's telepathy was clear and efficient. Despite his own confusion and the endless series of questions he had, Mohinder's message seemed to register with Matt.
A deep and intense shadow passed over Matt's face, his features sinking from an amused confusion to a worried, almost angry stare. “Bob?” he asked, rising to his feet. “You're sure?”
“Given the circumstances, I don't see how it could be anybody else.”
“You think all of this...this living dead stuff is Company related?”
May 1, 2008. 8:31 P.M.
Matt pressed his ear against the door of apartment 306 and listened intently for any movement. Nothing. Still, he readied his bat as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. A preliminary scan of the room offered no ghouls so Matt stepped inside cautiously, keeping his ears alert. He inspected each room thoroughly and was only satisfied once every closet had been opened and every balcony checked. Once he was sure no undead occupied the apartment, Matt began to raid the kitchen.
The amount of food that he and Mohinder kept stocked on a regular basis was laughable at best. Half a loaf of bread, two cartons of milk, an onion that nobody could remember buying and some cereal, among a few other essentials. Since the path to the nearest store was blocked by a mass of ravenous zombies, they had resorted to raiding apartments for food. Their plan was to work from the bottom floors up, never going below the third floor for safety reasons. They expected most of the apartments to be vacant, and so far they were, but they knew never to let their guard down.
Matt opened the refrigerator and was pleased to find an unopened carton of orange juice. There was some leftover Chinese food that Matt immediately snacked on, along with a bag of baby carrots. He was placing the juice and the carrots into the tote he carried with him, when he heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway. They were light and purposeful, so he knew their owner wasn't a threat. A moment later, Holly appeared in the doorway.
“Parkman, we need to talk,” she said without preamble. She approached him and stole a handful of Chinese noodles.
“About what?” Matt asked, moving on to the pantry.
“The little conversations you and your hottie roommate have. I need to be involved in them.”
“What do you mean?” Matt put a half-eaten box of soda crackers into the bag and tried not to look at Holly.
“Cut the crap, Parkman. You know what I'm talking about, and it's not like I can't hear you, anyways. Who the hell is Bob? The walls in your apartment are paper thin. If we're going to survive all this shit, then we need to work as a team. I need to know what you know, even if the answer isn't easy.”
Matt had the grace to colour. Working as a team and looking out for one another was one of the fundamentals of being a police officer. It shamed him to think that he had lost those values so quickly. Still, would she even believe him if he told her? “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. First and foremost, I want to know what you meant when you said that you 'couldn't hear Estelle's thoughts'. Is that like, code or some shit?”
“Not... exactly.”
Holly crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. 'Fuck this. I thought I could trust Parkman, of all people.'
“You can trust me, Holly,” Matt said, meeting her eyes directly.
His message was obviously received, as her face blanched and her jaw hung open. “Shit, you two were being literal?”
“I think you should probably take a seat, Holly. This might take a while to explain...”
Matt sat Holly down on the nearby couch and started from the beginning, although determining where 'the beginning' was wasn't an easy task. He began recalling his personal story; how he found Molly under the stairs, his kidnapping, Ted Sprague. Things began to get convoluted after mentioning Ted, so he decided to reiterate his original point. “What I'm trying to say with all this is that I'm telepathic. I can hear people's thoughts. It sounds crazy, I know, but I'm telling you the truth.”
Holly remained silent for several moments after his tale of events. She chewed her lip and furrowed her brow, but Matt couldn't sense any concrete disbelief in her confused thoughts. “Fuck,” was all she managed to say after digesting Matt's story.
“Do you believe me?”
Holly sighed and gave an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders. “I don't know...crazier shit, right? I mean, if the dead are walking then anything is possible.” Then, suddenly, she began to colour to a deep shade of red as a look of embarrassed shock crossed her face.. “Wait. If you can read my mind, then...”
Matt smirked. “Yes, I know all about your wanting to molest my roommate.”
May 2, 2008. 2:12 A.M.
“Do you think she believes us?” Mohinder asked, taking a sip of tea. It wasn't chai, but it would do for now.
Matt looked apprehensive. “I don't know. She doesn't not believe us, if that makes any sense.”
They had just spend the better part of three hours taking Holly through the past year of their lives. Mohinder's research, the Company and even Sylar. Holly had listened attentively, but her body language and lack of questions made Mohinder doubt if she believed them.
“It's a lot of information to take in at once, Mohinder,” Matt continued sympathetically. “These things were actually happening to me and I barely believed them. Give her time. It's not like we can't prove it to her or anything. I'm proof, Molly's proof. You still have your father's book and most of your case files here.” His face brightened into a smirk, although the underlying tiredness and worry wasn't washed away. “By the way, she's in love with you.”
Mohinder looked taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”
“She thinks you're totally good looking, is what I mean. She won't come out and say it, but she's thinking it.”
Mohinder was suddenly grateful for his dark complexion. He could feel the heat rushing up his neck and spreading across his face. Rather than acknowledge Matt's comment, Mohinder changed the subject. “Have you told her about your other ability?”
“I...haven't, no.” At this, Matt turned away and looked at the ground. “I would appreciate it if you didn't tell her either,” he added quickly,
“Why on Earth wouldn't I? We've told her everything else.”
Matt issued a deep, regretful sigh. “Something happened at the police station...”
Mohinder's mind worked quickly to remember Matt's report of what had happened at the police station. The answer was almost immediate and rather dreadful. Mohinder's features settled into a mix of sympathy, pity and accusation. “Matt, you didn't...”
“I had to, Mohinder. If I didn't use my ability to tell her to shoot, we would both be moaning and eating people.” Matt looked up and met Mohinder's eyes candidly, eyes pleading. “Please don't tell her.”
“Matt. I think I have to. It's unfair that she has to shoulder the burden of someone's...” Mohinder spread his hands, unable to think of an appropriate word. Death didn't seem right, nor did murder. “The point is, it isn't her guilt to bear. It would be wrong if we let it rest on her soul any longer.”
Matt's gaze fell back to the ground. “I know. It's just... I'm not sure if now is the right time. We need her trust and I think if we told her we would lose that.”
Mohinder hung his head and reluctantly conceded the point. “I think you're right. We don't need intergroup paranoia layered on top of our others.” Mohinder ran a hand over his face in frustration and began to think down different avenues. He hated moral dilemmas. They always gave him a headache.
“I think we should, too,” Matt said suddenly. His eagerness to change the subject was obvious.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I think we should, too. Check on Estelle, I mean. You've been thinking about it all day and I think it's a good idea. Maybe we can learn something from her.”
Mohinder sighed. “Matt, you know I don't like it when you're in my head.”
“I know. It's just that without so many voices to filter out, yours becomes a lot louder and clearer. I can't really help it. Anyways, I think we should go for it.”
“Are you sure you're up to it? You were pretty close to her.”
Matt nodded and Mohinder knew he was putting on a brave face. “Ignoring her won't make her any less undead. Besides, I'm sure she would want to help.”
Mohinder nodded. “I'll gather my things, then.” He pushed away from the table when suddenly a terrified and heartbreaking scream came from Molly's room.
“Matt! Matt!”
Matt shared a sad and hopeless look with Mohinder before dashing off into Molly's room. Mohinder hung his head and issued a hearty, rejected sighed. She always called Matt's name and Mohinder couldn't help but let a seed of resentment take root in his heart.