Blood and Water (Sample)

Chapter 1: Blood in the Sink

There was blood in the sink. That wasn't unusual. But Jay hadn't been home all day, so it couldn't have been his. That was the furthest thing from usual.

He reached down to scratch behind Samson's ears. The fat, orange cat was purring. That meant there couldn't be an intruder in the apartment, right? Did cats even care if intruders broke in, like dogs, or were they apathetic about that, too?

Samson was apathetic about everything but food and ear scratches.

"Hello?" Jay ventured.

No response. Of course not. What had he expected, someone to jump out and go boo? Melanie would say he'd seen too many horror movies. Sean would argue maybe he hadn't seen enough. As much as they loved each other, they seldom agreed. Still, besides the homeless people, they were all he had.

He had just gotten home from his volunteer shift at the homeless shelter on the other side of the river. Although its numbers had dwindled, they were still in desperate need of volunteers. Many people had stopped volunteering, worried about catching the virus, but Jay still went as much as he could. Immunity had done wonders for his compassion.

Immunity. His mouth twitched.

Jay had been helping out there since moving to London three years before. He'd been thinking about how much things had changed and trying to fill a glass with water from the sink when he looked down and saw the blood. He'd been coughing up a lot of blood lately, but where had this stuff come from?

Samson meowed. Jay stooped to pet him. The cat purred as though nothing had happened while Jay was gone. Useless.

"Was someone here?" he asked Samson.

The cat blinked in response. Jay would have to investigate the apartment himself.

Samson rubbed against Jay's jeans before venturing down the hallway.

Jay peered down at the blood in the kitchen sink. Dark, thick, red. He went to the drawer in search of a knife.

In a world racked with disease, it was hard to imagine crime was still an issue. Ebola-II, as it had been dubbed, was an absolute nightmare virus—everyone agreed on that. Tragedy was supposed to band people together. Why kick one person when the whole world was down? Still, there were riots. People got murdered almost every day. The week before, he'd seen someone get stabbed right outside of Hyde Park. Jay wished he'd had a weapon to protect himself. Luckily, the killer hadn't come after Jay—he took the man's wallet and ran into a tunnel.

In the present, Jay's reflection was a flash of brown skin on the blade of the knife. He had his mother's skin, smoother and lighter than his father's. On her, it had been beautiful. It made Jay look soft. His rounded jawline and warm brown eyes didn't do much for his intimidation factor, either. The only part of his face that was sharp was his nose. In the context of his face, it almost made no sense. It was his father's nose, and whenever he saw it, he was forced to remember his parents were dead.

Jay inhaled through his teeth. His close-cropped hair bristled as though it wanted to leave his scalp. It wasn't the best feeling. After a minute, he wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, and then he closed his fingers around the black rubber handle.

Time to search for the intruder.

He tried to think of all the reasons someone would break into his apartment. He didn't live on the wealthy side of town, and there was nothing outside his door to suggest he had any money.

He didn't even have a television, for God's sake. In his wallet, which he couldn't be bothered to keep on his person, there was a ten-pound note and a couple of coins. Then again, money wasn't much good anymore. Commerce had been annihilated by the virus, and most people still working in the shops didn't care if you took something without paying. Theft was the least of their worries.