ecstasy | corpse husband

prologue

seattle, washington

with a flick of his thumb, the man in a white lab coat popped the lid off of the syringe and heard rather than seen the plastic cap hit the ground by his shoe.

the woman in front of him began to stir, anxious breaths and muffled yells straining against the fabric stuffed into her mouth, and the doctor places a calming hand to the crown of her forehead. the gesture fails to ease the woman, and she begins to thrash against the chair in a fit of agitation.

"secure the straps," the doctor calls out, realizing the restraints are not nearly tight enough.

the garbled cries intensify but are promptly quieted when a man he believes goes by the name of julio slaps the woman's face. It's startling and unprecedented, and it makes him regret asking julio to secure her better to the chair. there's an unpleasant silence in the air after the stark sound of skin, and then the rustling of metal pieces as he watches julio roughly tugging each of the leather straps containing her limbs.

the doctor resists from commenting on his man-handling of her.

"go on, doc, she's all yours." julio returns to his place on the opposite wall of the room and watches expectantly, a certain excitement flaring up in his eyes at what's to come.

the doctor swallows the lump in his throat and suppresses the intensifying feeling of guilt curdling his stomach at the sight of heavy tears rolling down the woman's high cheekbones. she was mostly silent now, having learned her lesson, but her entire body trembled uncontrollably. even with her eyes closed, he sensed the magnitude of fear wracking her petite body in an image that would burn his memory forever.

he wasn't sure where this woman even came from. who's daughter she could've been, who's sister or friend, before she was abducted off the street and thrown into the back of a van. she had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and would now pay for it with her life.

grunting with impatience, julio slams the palm of his hand back against the wall he's leaning on. "you done gettin' hard over there? quit standing around staring at her. you have orders. we don't have all goddamn day, so get on with it before I put a bullet through your skull."

the doctor's thoughts are cut short, as well as any chances to prolong what he knows he has to do, and he resumes the task at hand while ignoring the mindless threats. they wouldn't put a bullet through his skull; they need him. while he might have been replaceable before, they have a deadline now, and he has the syringes. that doesn't mean beating him into submission is off the table, though.

the doctor steps behind the woman, readjusting his grip on the syringe in his hand. again, he places one gloved hand on the woman's head, this time to hold her in place. immediately, she vocalizes her fear again, her murmurs and sobs of "no" and "please don't" causing him a shaky hand.

don't get emotionally involved.

It had been a mantra he'd learned all too well through his career.

the tightened restraints on her do their job. he finally steadies the point of the needle at the temple of her head, being precise of the angle before he uses his thumb to push in. the cloth in her mouth does a poor job against the increasing volume of her screams, but the doctor focuses on the needle making appropriate contact with the correct lobe of the brain.

after draining the syringe of its contents, the injection is complete. the first of many. he throws it into the trash.

julio takes a curious step closer. "the bitch is still screaming. is that shit you put in her workin'?"

the doctor keeps a solemn face, looking down at her shaking body regretfully. "she's going to remain conscious throughout her transition. and she's distressed, not in pain yet. the virus takes time to work in its full effect. it varies how long from person to person. could be an hour. could be six."

but they will turn.

that seems to satisfy him, though he looks disappointed there won't be an immediate result.

all they need do now is play the waiting game.

the doctor's hands began to feel clammy. he felt the need to leave the room and go to the nearest toilet to puke. he didn't want to wait in this room, with julio as company, and watch the infection slowly but surely drive this woman into wretched madness. he didn't want to think about what would have to happen after the first stage of transition. he didn't want to think about all of the blood that was about to be on his hands.

but he knew what was coming. what he was a part of.

in one month from now, three semi-trucks of these things will be released on new year's eve at every large city across the nation. he's well aware of what the outcome will be. he's well aware of the chaos that will ensue. dare he say, at his doing.

but is it as if he had a choice?

he'd been held at gunpoint, threatened by the terrorist organization that intended to watch this country fall to its knees. he himself was kidnapped and forced to aid in humanity's demise.

technically, there was another choice.

I have a daughter, is all the doctor could think. he wasn't being selfish, he convinced himself. his daughter needed him—needed him alive. he was all she had. he couldn't be being selfish.

what good would it do to die at their hands? they'd only move on and find someone else that'd do the job for them. It was pointless sacrificing his life for an inevitable doom. I have a daughter.

It isn't selfish.

one month, he thought to himself, like a warning siren in his head. one month left for the preparations to be completed so he could be let free. he'd be out of the country by then, protecting his loved ones and watching from afar.

watching as the united states of america would be put under the most devastating test of tenacity mankind had ever seen.

let the countdown begin.

_____

and so it begins. GAHH I'm so excited. hope you all are, too. story begins next chapter!