《Scourge》


 Death Knell

    An ominous ring bellows from the bronze bell in the public square. A steam-powered carriage hauls behind it a wagon filled with bodies wrapped in a large tarp, protecting them from the ever-constant rainfall. Atop the church steeple sits a crow. Its beady eyes glance around the square like a spectator for the bleak scenery. As lightning crackles behind it, the crow flies off into the dark skies above the city.


    A man in a black suit with a red tie and black top hat enters the grocer. The shelves that were once always fully stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables were now mostly devoid of any food. The man in the suit grabs a few of the remaining foods he can and sets them on the front counter. A portly man wearing a red and white striped apron with a five o¡¯ clock shadow clicks on the cash register.


    ¡°Seems quite barren in here George. I just returned from my trip over in Wales. Why¡¯s everything so gloom and doom now?¡± The man in the suit says.


    The portly man glares at the man in the suit, tapping one last key on the register. A weary ding rings from the register.


    ¡°Jason¡­ Did you notice anything when you returned? Anything at all on your journey back here to Belvedere?¡± George asks.


    Jason taps his chin. Then a light bulb goes off in his mind.


    ¡°Ah now that you mention it! There were some wagons hauling what I think were¡­ People? And many shops had shuttered their doors. A lack of any people out and about too. Bobbies were more frequently patrolling. Uhm¡­ Posters I never bothered to get a closer look at. Oh, and I saw a strange pair of folks in black attire with these unusual masks on their face. Was there an accident? More rebels perhaps? A major attack on Her Majesty?¡±


    George sighs as Jason looks to the price displayed on the register and puts the money down on the counter.


    ¡°No, Jason. For fuck¡¯s sake it¡¯s a goddamned epidemic!¡±


    ¡°Aye?¡±


    ¡°You heard me. Nary a week ago, reports were cropping up of folks comin¡¯ down with some kind of illness. Started as but a few people in some boroughs. Next thing we know, that number starts climbing higher and higher by the day. Police shut down those areas with the most infected. Quarantined the poor bastards.¡±


    George takes the money and bags the foods. Jason grabs the bag. His expression shows one of great concern and panic starts settling in.


    ¡°Dear God¡­ It all makes sense now. Shite! I need to get back to my home!¡±


    Jason bolts out of the store. George shakes his head and sighs, taking a seat in the chair hidden behind the counter to read a book.


    Two pairs of black boots trod through a puddle on the sidewalk. A shivering man in a black poncho seeking shelter from the rain under an awning hides his face with a black cotton bandana pulled up over his mouth and nose gazes at the passing duo.


    A black gloved hand raps on the door. As the doors open, the man with the sullen brown eyes simply nods and motions for the strangers to enter.


    ¡°Come quickly. This way.¡± He says in a panicked tone.


    The sullen-eyed man leads the strangers to his living room. On the floor is an elderly woman convulsing and undulating. She¡¯s covered up with a red-and-white checkered blanket. A pale white pillow lies where her head is resting.


    ¡°Please¡­ Me grams just started actin¡¯ up like this. I called for a bobby and he said he would call for help. You two¡­ Must be the help, yes?¡±


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    The strangers wore midnight black robes with lighter black leather gloves and boots. The taller one had on a black hat with a buckle. Around his waist was a brown utility belt with several pouches, three syringes held in slots and a holstered knife. He also had an oak cane adorned with an onyx crow. The other one had a hood on. She brandished a serrated blade and held a brown leather doctors¡¯ bag. Both of the strangers wore black beaked masks stuffed with various herbs. They looked to each other and nod.


    ¡°Step aside sir.¡± The woman spoke.


    As the sullen-eyed man stepped aside, the two cloaked figures approached the elderly woman. The man kneels down to examine her. He presses two fingers to her neck despite her strained movements.


    ¡°Marianne. Please pin the woman¡¯s arms down for me, will you?¡± He says.


    ¡°Certainly, Peter.¡± She responds.


    Marianne approaches and gets on her knees over the woman, grabbing her wrists and pins her to the floor. Peter pulls out a small glass filled with a deep purple concoction. A tiny hole on the lid. He then grabs a syringe to fill it with the liquid, flicks the tip of the needle and jabs it into the convulsing woman¡¯s neck vein with precision.


    The woman¡¯s joints start to slow until her entire body goes still. Her eyes shut. Marianne lets go and stands up. Peter remains at her side as he puts the jar and syringe away. The sullen-eyed man inches closer with his hands cupped together.


    ¡°Wha¡­ What did you do?¡± He asks.


    Marianne looks to him, crossing her arms.


    ¡°Peter dosed her with a serum. ¡®Rainmaker.¡¯ It¡¯s still experimental but we¡¯ve had some success in evicting the plague from victims. It all depends on how their body handles it¡­ As of its current state, it¡¯s a coin toss if it will succeed.¡± Marianne explains.


    ¡°A c-coin toss? So, you¡¯re unsure if it will even help her?!¡±


    ¡°Sir please calm down. This epidemic is spreading fast. The symptoms exhibited by victims of the sickness point to a few different potential known diseases. Rainmaker is the only currently known medicine concocted that can treat these specific diseases.¡±


    Peter stands up to face the sullen-eyed man.


    ¡°Researches from the Institute are still working hard in their research to narrow down just what exactly is not only causing this spreading illness but to narrow it down-¡°


    Peter stops talking to glance down at the elderly woman who starts convulsing once more. Her movements are even more erratic than before. Pained groans escape her chapped lips. Marianne shakes her head.


    ¡°Well bollocks. I¡¯m sorry sir but¡­ I¡¯m afraid she¡¯s a lost cause. Marianne if you will. And sir¡­ You may want to look away.¡±


    Marianne pulls out her serrated blade and kneels down next to the woman. The sullen-eyed man looks in horror.


    ¡°What are you¡­?¡± He pauses.


    Marianne pulls out a cloth and covers the woman¡¯s mouth before gently slitting her throat with the blade. Blood pools from the neck and onto the floor. The man falls to his knees. He¡¯s in utter disbelief.


    ¡°Another one¡­ Shame.¡± Peter says.


    Marianne and Peter go to pick the body up and haul it out of the home. They lay it down on the sidewalk. The sullen-eyed man stands at the door, watching the two doctors silently pray while standing over the body. He presses a hand to his head, shaking it. Tears are streaking down his cheeks.


    A few minutes of silence pass until a carriage passing by hauling a wagon stops in front of the home. Two men in raincoats step out, seeing the body and going to pick it up. They toss the body up into the wagon, shoving it back enough to where it won¡¯t fall out. Peter and Marianne nod silently to them. They nod back before hopping into the carriage. It starts heading off down the street.


    ¡°Why¡­ Why did you have to do that?¡± The sullen-eyed man sobs.


    Peter and Marianne turn to the man. Peter¡¯s arms are behind his back. Marianne¡¯s hands are cupped together in front of her.


    ¡°This plague is airborne as far as we know. If an infected is not cured, they pose a threat just by breathing. So, we silence them. Only then are they no longer a threat, and their body can be hauled off to be burned in a safe location.¡± Peter explains.


    ¡°Sorry sir. But this is for your safety and the safety of the public. She was not compatible with the serum. The infection was far too severe. Just¡­ Be happy she¡¯s in a better place now. We should be off then.¡± Marianne adds.


    Peter tips his hat. Marianne nods. The two doctors depart from the vicinity. Meanwhile, the sullen-eyed man is left speechless. He wipes his eyes and slams the door on his way back inside.

 The Doctors

    The LIM or London Institution of Medicine, most commonly known as the Institute, is the city¡¯s premiere center of medical education, employment and research. Formed in 1666 after the Great Plague of London, the Institute has been dedicated to educating and training the future of doctors and nurses within not only London but the entire United Kingdom.


    A special division of the Institute was created to deal with outbreaks and house calls. The Black Doctors are professionals deployed into cities and towns usually in pairs or even trios. While general doctors, surgeons and nurses are confined to hospitals and offices, the Black Doctors are a mobile division. Equipped with various tools of the trade and expertise in various medicinal skills, only the finest of the field can take on this role.


    With the coming of a new plague, the Institute has deployed all of it¡¯s Black Doctors out into London. They work around the clock checking every citizen to see if any symptoms appear. Harrow and Redbridge were the first boroughs with reported cases, soon spreading to neighboring Ealing and Newham. Police have quarantined these boroughs. Right now, with the populations of the boroughs either stuck inside or evacuated, they¡¯ve been serving as ¡°dumping grounds¡± for the infected. Places to burn the bodies to cleanse their systems of the sickness to help prevent further spread.


    A steam carriage hauling a wagon arrives in Redbridge. Fully masked men in black suits completely covering their bodies begin taking bodies out of the wagon and placing them into designated dumping grounds marked with yellow tape. Once the bodies are set, the two men climb into the back of the carriage to pull out a flamethrower. The taller man holds the shaft containing the fuel tube and the firing handle. The other man takes the tank and holsters it on the taller man¡¯s shoulders. He holds the heavy tank in place, turning the fuel valve to warm up the thrower. After a couple minutes pass, the taller man aims the shaft out and cranks the firing handle. Bright red flames roar from the nozzle. The corpses begin slowly burning.


    Off in the distance, two bobbies with masks watch just outside the perimeter of the quarantine zone. These zones are marked by bright red signs with a black ¡®X¡¯ on them placed on both sides of the street as well as concrete barricades leaving only enough room for carriages to pass by.


    ¡°Get a load of that. Another haul¡­¡± The rotund officer says.


    The slender officer lifts his mask to puff on a cigarette. He nods.


    ¡°Aye. Fourth one today. Gettin¡¯ worse by the day it seems.¡±


    A puff of smoke escapes his chapped lips. Smoke billows from the pile of charred corpses as the flames cease. The rotund officer shakes his head.


    ¡°When do you think this will end? How long do those folks have to stay stuck inside? I mean for fucks sake they got doctors fetching groceries for the poor bastards.¡± He grits his teeth.


    ¡°No clue lad. Not our problem. We just stay ¡®ere an¡¯ make sure passersby aren¡¯t gettin¡¯ in or out. For their own good.¡± The slender officer murmurs.


    ¡°I swear mum must be right. This could be the second coming after all¡­¡±


    The men in suits stow the flamethrower back into the carriage. They dust their hands off and hop back into the carriage, departing the square to leave the quarantine zone. The officers watch in silence. This is just another average day for them.


    Rain patters against the large office windows. A stern-faced woman sits at a desk smoking a cigarette. Her light brown hair is tied up into a bun. She wears black-rimmed glasses, a white dress shirt and black pencil skirt with black high heels. Her cheekbones stand out next to the beauty mark under her dark red lips. A series of knocks raps on the office door. Her teal eyes glance towards the door.


    ¡°You may enter.¡± She speaks.


    Two plague doctors wearing hats enter the office. One pulls out a folder piece of paper from within his trench coat.


    ¡°Ah. It¡¯s you two. Ready to hand in the weekly report?¡±


    They both nod. The doctor with the paper steps forward and places the paper on the desk. The woman adjusts her glasses to examine the contents of the paper.


    ¡°Miss Weston I must be honest. Things are¡­ Looking quite bleak compared to the mid-week report we handed in.¡± He says.


    Weston wears a concerned expression as her eyes study the writings of the doctor. She then looks at the two. The other doctor just remains silent with their hands cupped together. She breathes a sigh.


    ¡°I can see that. You two examined five-thousand one hundred and seventy-two patients in total this week. Says here only three-thousand four-hundred and two were cured. Meaning¡­ The rest were executed, yes?¡±


    The doctor nods.


    ¡°Compared to our initial visits, it seems more and more people are not accepting the Rainmaker serum. We believe this is due to the severity of the many symptoms co-existing within the plague. Rainmaker treats the less severe cases. But those who were diagnosed with a more virulent case were deemed ¡°unfit¡± to the purification. Unfortunately, this plague affects everyone differently.¡±


    Weston sighs once more and tosses the paper down onto the desk. She crosses her arms and leans back in the chair. The legs squeak on the hardwood floorboard.


    ¡°I see. The lab coats are working to alter Rainmaker thanks to the patient data we¡¯ve collected so far. We¡¯re hoping that the new variant will be able to fight against the symptoms currently immune to Rainmaker. As of right now¡­ We¡¯re unsure when it will be complete. It¡¯s got to be tested first after all.¡±


    ¡°Understood madam.¡±


    ¡°Good work out there. All of you. I¡¯ll have my assistant send this report to the chief medical director once she returns. You¡¯re dismissed for the day. Now go and get some rest.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Come lad. Let us go.¡±


    The two doctors leave the office. Weston turns her chair around and stares out the window at the drab city skyline. She takes another puff of her cigarette.


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    Lightning strikes in the skies. The front door opens up. Peter and Marianne step inside and close the door. Peter takes his hat off and lowers his hood. He reached behind his mask to undo the buckles. He takes the mask off and sets both it and the hat on the rack nearby then proceeds with the gear and gloves.


    ¡°Ugh. What a day.¡± Peter mutters.


    ¡°You can say that again, dear.¡± Marianne replies.


    She takes her belt off to set it aside, following with her mask then the gloves. She then undoes the bun to let her hair down.


    Peter has short auburn hair, blue eyes and a freshly-trimmed goatee with slight graying on a small patch just under his lips. He stands at six foot one. Marianne has shoulder-length midnight black hair with flared bangs just covering her eyebrows, hazel eyes, dark red lips and black painted fingernails. She stands at five foot seven. Both of them wear onyx rings on their fourth fingers.


    ¡°Ugh. What a day.¡±


    Marianne punches him in the shoulder with a snicker.


    ¡°Hey. You told me to.¡±


    ¡°It was funny the first few times but it¡¯s gotten a bit old by now.¡±


    ¡°And yet¡­ I still got a chuckle out of you.¡±


    Marianne waves him off and walks towards the kitchen. Peter gets comfortable on the couch in the living room.


    ¡°Shall I get started on dinner then?¡± Marianne calls out.


    ¡°Please do.¡± Peter replies loudly.


    Peter grabs the newspaper to read while Marianne starts prepping in the kitchen. He glazes the headlines. With the plague going around much of the news has been devoted to covering it lately. He folds back to the cover story to read:


    Plague continues to spread across London. Perhaps The Second Coming?


    The government has been working around the clock to treat the sudden rise of a new endemic. It¡¯s official name, ¡°The Crows Plague¡±, being named after the sightings of crows circling the skies of the boroughs where the plague was first caught and now quarantined, has stricken fear into the population. Many have closed shop and entire districts have fallen silent in fear of the plague. So far, it¡¯s estimated that between 30,000 to 32,000 residents have been infected according to reports from the London Institution of Medicine. Her Majesty¡¯s Royal Police have completely locked down the city. Only with appropriate permission or proper papers will citizens be allowed in or out of London.


    There has been no word from Her Majesty but she is slated to make an appearance to the public alongside the prime minister at the City Hall tomorrow afternoon to address the current endemic and further plans to combat its constant spread. Also slated for a public appearance will be the headmistress of the London Institution of Medicine this Friday in the evening at the institute building. The public is encouraged to attend these gatherings even with ongoing fears of the plague.


    Peter raises an eyebrow. He sets the paper down and gets up to walk over into the kitchen. Marianne is standing at the oven as water inside a pot boils. She turns to face him. He rests a hand on the counter next to them.


    ¡°Did you read the paper at all?¡± Peter asks.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t had a chance to. Why?¡± Marianne shrugs.


    ¡°Tomorrow and Friday. There¡¯s going to be two big public appearances. One from Her Majesty and the prime minister tomorrow. Friday¡­ It¡¯ll be our boss.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    ¡°Mm. We¡¯re off tomorrow so the timing couldn¡¯t be more perfect for that. As for Friday, well¡­ It¡¯s towards the evening so our shift should be over by that time. We can attend both events. I am quite curious.¡±


    ¡°As am I. Alright. I say we go. Worst-case scenario we end up in overtime on Friday.¡±


    ¡°Fine by me. We have two boroughs to investigate Friday and they¡¯re not terribly far away from the Institute.¡±


    ¡°Then let us make sure we get plenty of sleep tomorrow night to ensure we still have the energy.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Now, while you¡¯re making dinner, I desire a shower.¡±


    ¡°Plenty of time. Should be about a half-hour or so.¡±


    Peter gently kisses Marianne on the lips then takes off. She watches him leave, crossing her arms and leans against the counter patiently waiting for the water to boil.


    A young man with disheveled brown hair approaches the front door to his apartment following a set of knocks. He opens it. His eyes light up.


    ¡°S-sir. You¡¯re back. Please. Come in. I-I think you need to look at her again.¡± He stammers.


    The burly doctor enters holding a doctor¡¯s bag. He¡¯s alone. He follows the man silently. Turning the corner in the living room a young woman around the same age as the man with messy long blonde hair sits in a chair in the corner covered up with a white blanket. She coughs, noticing the two of them.


    ¡°It¡¯s been two days. A-and she still seems sick. Please¡­ Examine her once more!¡± The man begs.


    Reaching for a syringe, the doctor approaches the young woman. She can¡¯t see his eyes past the hazy glass on the beaked mask. He examines her closely. First by checking her pulse then spreading the skin around her bloodshot left eye for a full view. The pupil rolls around. She¡¯s visibly nervous, coughing up again. The doctor grabs her arm and readies the syringe.


    ¡°Still showing symptoms from the past examination. Bloodshot eyes. Coughing. Judging by the bucket nearby, vomiting. Shakes. Is your body still feeling weak?¡± He asks.


    The woman nods, biting down on her tongue as the needle slits through the skin on her arms. Blood fills the syringe tube. He reaches for a small glass container in the bag to put the blood into. He shakes the container around. The man anxiously paces back and forth off in the distance.


    ¡°I¡¯ve kept my distance. W-well??¡± He asks.


    Shaking his head, the doctor shoves the container into the bag. He then reaches into his coat and pulls out a sharp blade.


    ¡°Rainmaker has failed to purge the infection from your body. Unfortunately, despite your rather calmer nature, the window for completion on the next variant is still unsure. You are at risk of further spreading the infection and it¡¯s only a matter of time before you succumb to the plague. Therefore, you must be silenced.¡±


    The doctor speaks as he plunges the blade straight into the woman¡¯s chest. The man gasps and falls completely silent. He withdraws the blade and stands up. The woman¡¯s head tilts to the left, taking one last look at the man before her eyes close completely. He turns around and approaches the man. He backs up towards the wall as the doctor closes in on him.


    ¡°My beloved¡­ W-why?? And w-what are you¡­?¡±


    The doctor takes a second syringe from his belt and jabs it into the man¡¯s neck to pull a blood sample. The blood appears somewhat dark. Almost resembling the infected blood of the woman.


    ¡°Silence. You too are at risk of spreading the infection. Your blood is tainted with the plague. Your intercourse with the woman has spread it into your system. How tragic¡­ That neither of you knew until her symptoms had started to show. Now you, must be silenced.¡±


    The doctor takes his blade and plunges it into the man¡¯s chest. His nails scratch the wallpaper as he slides down to the floor once the blade is removed. He looks over to the woman, trying to reach out.


    ¡°Do not fear death, young man. Now you two will be reunited in a better place. For the safety of the public¡­ It had to be done.¡± The doctor speaks.


    ¡°J¡­ Jana¡­¡± The man whispers.


    His arm goes limp. His body slumps to the right. The man and woman now both lie dead in their own home. The doctor shakes his head, returns to the living room and grabs his bag. He makes his way for the door.


    Before leaving, he pulls out a notepad and pen to write a note. As the door closes, the paper sits folded in the mail slot. He walks down the flight of stairs down to ground level and leaves the premises onto his next stop.

 The Lingering Blight

    Most of London remained unaffected by the plague as strict precautions and safeguards were in place regarding the spreading infections. Steam carriages drove along the roads. Pedestrians wandered the sidewalks. The skies were cloudy but not a drop of rain. A gentle wind blew. All seemed calm and normal here compared to the boroughs located near quarantine zones. This bustling city block in Hackney was home to one of the most famous cafes in the city: Sweeneys. Red and white striped awnings hung above the shop windows. A big rustic sign displayed the caf¨¦¡¯s name in bright red. Four sets of tables with chairs were placed just outside for dining. Peter and Marianne sat at one of these tables in casual attire. Peter wore a dusty brown, black fur-collared jacket and blue jeans with black dress shoes. Marianne had on a slim-fit, long purple dress with a black coat on and black thigh-high boots.


    ¡°Been quite some time since we¡¯d been out like this. Don¡¯t you agree? Just the two of us. Tea. And hot soup.¡± Peter says.


    ¡°Indeed. Bit chilly though innit?¡± Marianne replies.


    Peter takes his spoon and swallows a portion of the soup. He smacks his lips.


    ¡°I find the breeze to be calming. We¡¯re not quite out of Fall just yet so it hasn¡¯t gotten too chilly.¡±


    ¡°Cold has never bothered you. In the ten years we¡¯ve spent together, not once have I ever heard you complain about it.¡±


    ¡°Darling, I worked in a mill right out of high school remember? My blood and bones adapted to the cold in a jiffy.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­ I swear you must have a million stories from your time at the mill. Is it even still around?¡±


    ¡°Sure is. Over in Enfield. Still running to this day. Wonder if the old coot I worked with all those years ago is still there...?¡±


    Marianne just sipped some of her tea. Across the street in the center of the square there was a commotion brewing. The two glanced over at the square. A young couple was shouting at an older man with his hands pressed together as if he was praying. They couldn¡¯t hear over all the carriages passing by.


    A bobby strolling by stops to investigate the scene. The young couple are keeping their distance from the older man as they talk to the officer. Peter raises an eyebrow. The officer raises his nightstick to wave the man off, who is eagerly plodding closer to the three of them. Now he appears to be telling the main to remain in place. Passersby look on.


    ¡°Hm? What could the commotion be all about? Bit hard to hear them.¡± Peter asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Marianne adds.


    The two return to their tea and soup for a few minutes before more indescribable shouting is heard once again. They glance over. A pair of Black Doctors is following the young couple who point over to the older man. He starts pleading as the doctors approach and begin speaking to him. One of the doctors starts drawing blood from the man¡¯s arm. They speak to the other doctor. Immediately, the man is apprehended by the two doctors and now being led away from the area, waving for pedestrians to clear the way. The mans cries are loud. Marianne¡¯s eyes widen. Peter is rubbing his chin.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be. That man¡¯s blood must be tainted.¡± He murmurs.


    ¡°Wonder what led up to the confrontation. There is a store on that block so maybe they were inside and he started coughing or appeared sickly. Something happened to set off that young couple either way.¡±


    ¡°Good on them for reporting the infected man then. However, that situation only enhances the biggest fear I harbor for the plague.¡±


    ¡°You mean how symptoms vary in terms of showing up?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    Peter and Marianne get up to start walking having finished their tea and soup. Peter clears his throat and continues to speak;


    ¡°We¡¯ve heard accounts from those who¡¯ve reported victims. Some who catch the plague it¡¯s nearly instant. Others sometimes have taken upwards of a few days to show symptoms. And we already know that the hybrid influx of various symptoms separates the plague from your common colds and flus. It¡¯s quite worrying. Seems more and more victims are cropping up who¡¯s symptoms aren¡¯t immediate¡­¡±


    Marianne sighs, sticking her hands into the pockets of her coat.


    ¡°You are right. Honey we are but doctors though. All we can do is treat the infected. The Institute is hard at work developing the second variant of Rainmaker and ensuring quarantine procedures. All we can do is hope and pray this plague can be isolated before it gets worse.¡± She confesses.


    ¡°I know. I know. Now¡­ Let us shelve this plague talk for now. We have to catch a trolley to city hall. The speech will be starting soon.¡±


    ¡°Ah! Yes of course!¡±


    Southwark. Home to the London City Hall. Crowds of people eagerly wait outside behind iron barriers where the police keep the people sanctioned off from the front area of the building. Many are seated on the stone steps while the rest stand outside the barricades and above the exteriors open chamber. In the main lobby, a tubby man in a tanned suit with bronze-rimmed glasses, a black bowler cap and a fuzzy mustache waits patiently. Next to him is a slender man in a gray suit with short brown hair holding sheets of paper. The steel elevator doors open up, drawing their attention.


    ¡°There you are your majesty! All the preparations are set for your public appearance. Security perimeters are established and the crowd is eagerly waiting for you.¡± The tubby man says.


    The woman nods to him. Two burly men in black suits follow alongside her as she and them are led to the front doors. A roar erupts from the crowds when the doors open up. A podium is set up. Several bobbies surround the open grounds. The decorated woman radiates natural beauty with a chiseled face, striking ocean blue eyes, crimson lips, diamond-encrusted necklace and diamond droplet earrings. She has coffee brown hair tied into elegant side buns with gold clips. Atop her head is a gilded eight-point crown with four squares embedded with red jewels and four angelic figures embedded with diamonds. She wears a long, elegant black laced dress hugging her hourglass figure, black covered high heels, black laced gloves and a white fur coat covering her exposed shoulders.


    ¡°Ahem! Attention everyone! Your beloved and respected mayor, Winfield Paterson here! In light of recent events, the attention of the government has been brought to its full attention! Here today I am proud to welcome the beautiful leader of our nation today! Your Majesty¡­ Queen Victoria!¡± Paterson speaks.


    Another thunderous roar of applause erupts from the crowds. Paterson steps back from the podium, motioning for Victoria to step forward. She nods, approaching the podium. She clears her throat. Everyone in the crowds wait with bated breath. The queen begins to speak;


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    ¡°Greetings, citizens of London. Due to the restrictive protection Westminster is under, I had to travel here personally to address you all. I understand that the general public is fearful right now. Our fair city has been under attack by this recent plague endemic. Our citizens, economy, and overall public health has been greatly affected by the spreading infection. The government is collaborating with the London Institution of Medicine to help eradicate this plague that has become a blight to our fair citizens. Worry not¡­ For this joint effort is progressing smoothly. We are dictating new rules and regulations to ensure the safety of every citizen. Many have already suffered from this dreadful sickness. Over two centuries ago, London was subjected to a devastating plague that rocked the very foundation of our city. We wish not for history to repeat itself. We as a society have advanced since then. Advancements in medicine and technology will ensure that we continue to thrive. This plague will not bring us to our knees as it once did¡­¡±


    Men with filed view cameras mounted on tripods were taking pictures of Queen Victoria. Journalists were frantically jotting down each and every word she spoke to later write her speech into the papers to release tomorrow. Peter and Marianne sat amongst the crowd on the stone steps just below where Queen Victoria and Paterson stood.


    ¡°As one should expect from Her Majesty. She is very calm and collected about this whole matter.¡± Peter murmurs.


    Marianne simply nods. She¡¯s much too invested into the queen¡¯s words to make her own response.


    ¡°¡­ As the ruling queen of this nation, we will do anything and everything we have to face this crisis together with the London Institution of Medicine. Our allies across the borders and overseas are sending help to assist us during this endemic. We are not alone in this crisis. I do not wish to see my nation slowly crumble under the weight of yet another outbreak that my great-great ancestors had to overcome. People of London¡­ Your safety and the safety of this nation are of the utmost importance. Remain calm and please stay safe. Employ the regulations dictated to prevent the spreading of the plague and report anyone who you think may be infected. I thank you all for your time. I, Queen Victoria, decree that the Crow¡¯s Plague will be eradicated no matter what.¡±


    The crowds applaud vigorously. Some in the audience are silent, holding in their fears or anger. Queen Victoria waves to the people and heads back inside city hall. Paterson delivers some closings words before officially finalizing the gathering. The people were free to leave now. Bobbies guided the people off as the crowds dispersed. Peter and Marianne followed suit.


    Queen Victoria was escorted back inside the building where she waits for the people to clear out. She walks out the back doors to her pristine, silver-plated steam carriage adorned with gilded accents. Victoria lets out a sigh once she takes a seat in the back. The burly men sit opposite of her. In the drivers¡¯ seat sits an older gentleman with a white top hat, white suit with a black tie and a gray handlebar mustache. He turns to see Victoria and her bodyguards sat comfortably. He nods and starts the carriage up. The steam machine starts moving.


    ¡°Your Majesty. I imagine the public appearance went well?¡± He asks.


    ¡°To my surprise, it did. Here I thought the public would be up in arms over this endemic.¡± Victoria replies.


    She grabs a long black cigarette holder left on the seat next to her and the box of matches near it. Flicking a matchstick, she lights the cigarette and puffs.


    ¡°Understandable. Tis¡¯ a truly abhorrent situation we find ourselves in. ¡®Reckon our collaboration with the Institute can work together to shut this mess down before it gets out of hand?¡±


    ¡°I have the utmost faith in the Institute. After the Great Plague two centuries ago, the Institute was formed on the basis of restructuring the nation¡¯s health and medicine to accommodate the rampant threats of future outbreaks. Now more then ever¡­ They must pool all their resources and knowledge into finding a cure and containing this plague¡­¡±


    The gentleman nods. He remains silent to focus on the road.


    Rain patters on the vacant streets of Redbridge. The shutters on shops remain closed. Doors are locked. Barrels sat underneath rafters in alleys continue to burn. A woman peers outside her second story window at the plants in the potter just beneath the windowsill. Some carriages have been left abandoned. Remnants of trash litter the streets having been untouched by the lack of street cleaners since the borough became quarantined.


    In one of these dank alleys tucked away in a corner behind a barber shop is a burning barrel and a tent made of patchwork fabric. An anorexic man with messy light brown hair in tattered clothes sticks his neck out to peer around.


    ¡°Aye. No sign of those masked freaks still. I think we¡¯re in the clear mate.¡± He speaks.


    The sturdy bald man in grimy overalls bunking with him breathes a sigh of relief. He scratches his head and sits up. Inside the tent are two makeshift beds and potato sack pillows stuffed with rags. A stack of dirty magazines lay between the beds.


    ¡°Good. Looks like we¡¯re in the clear. Seems they ain¡¯t findin¡¯ us anytime soon Charlie.¡± The bald man states.


    Charlie sits back down on his bed. He reaches for the half-eaten banana and takes a bite.


    ¡°Say Hardy. What¡¯cha think happened to the rest like us?¡±


    ¡°My guess? Rounded up like cattle by the bobbies n¡¯ doctors and hauled off somewhere to be locked away.¡±


    ¡°Ya¡¯ think so? Me thinks that¡¯s what happened to Zach.¡±


    ¡°Mm. Word is the plague is airborne. Know what I think? It¡¯s those damned sewer rats. It¡¯s the  fuckin¡¯ Great Plague all over again. And here we sit in the wild west.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Since us homeless folk ain¡¯t medicated¡­ Government don¡¯t give two shits about us. The average, hard-working men and stay-at-home women are priority. Ain¡¯t gonna¡¯ let us poor folk be livin¡¯ in the streets while a plague is spreadin¡¯ like wildfire.¡±


    ¡°Right. Right¡­ Shit. We¡¯s runnin¡¯ outta¡¯ food again. It¡¯s gettin¡¯ late. Maybe you oughta¡¯ go scavenge while it¡¯s hopefully safe?¡±


    ¡°Wait till early morning. Little daylight will help before the damned patrols are out.¡±


    A bright light emanates from the lantern held by a wandering Black Doctor. He overhears muffled voices coming from down the nearby alley. He notices the firelight reflecting off the brick walls. He walks down the alley past a couple overstuffed trash bins and some broken down cardboard boxes. Rounding the corner, he finds the barrel with wood burning inside alongside the patchwork tent. The doctor kneels down and pulls open one of the flaps.


    Charlie and Hardy immediately shut up upon seeing the masked doctor. The soulless glass eyes and intimidating beak strike fear into the two of them.


    ¡°Oi. What do you two think you¡¯re doing? Why aren¡¯t you at the asylum?¡± The doctor asks.


    Charlie and Hardy look at each other. They look at the doctor.


    ¡°We¡¯ve always been ¡®ere doc. Ain¡¯t got a clue what¡¯cha mean.¡± Charlie responds.


    The doctor shakes his head. He sets his lantern down and reaches for the serrated blade he keeps sheathed at his side.


    ¡°Damned fools. Your lot was evacuated and sent off to the asylum once the outbreaks started. Without homes, you all are basically walking plague factories. At this rate you¡¯re too far gone for treatment even if the symptoms haven¡¯t started showing. Out of the tent now and I won¡¯t repeat myself.¡±


    The doctor steps away, motioning for the men to follow him. He keeps a grip on the hilt of his blade.


    Charlie is quivering. Hardy grits his teeth. He clenches his fist watching Charlie step out with his hands raised. Hardy follows but plans something. The two stood side-by-side as the doctor pulls out his blade, rubbing the serrated steel with his leather-gloved hand.


    ¡°Now unfortunately this means you two are a threat to public safety¡­¡±


    A rapid swipe at Charlie¡¯s neck. The serrated blade tears the skinny man¡¯s throat open, spewing blood as he falls to the cold, cobblestone ground. The doctor flings off some blood from the blade, wiping it with his glove. Hardy looks on in horror. His last nerve snaps. With the doctor readying for another kill, Hardy decks the doctor in the face with pure brute strength. The doctor falls back against the nearest wall. Hardy then grabs the doctor¡¯s head and slams it against the wall before tossing him down to the ground. A shrill grunt escapes the doctors¡¯ muffled lips. Hardy scoffs and spits on the doctor. He kneels down and takes the serrated blade. One last look at Charlie with a sniffle and tears being held back, Hardy kicks the doctor in the stomach and runs off into the darkness of the rain-soaked streets.


    The doctor coughs. He refuses to take his mask off, instead coughing up some blood into the beak, staining the plants and herbs stuffed inside of it. He slowly gets back up to his feet. The realization of both his blade and the homeless man missing sinks in, driving him up the wall.


    ¡°Fuck! Bloody bastard robbed me an¡¯ took off¡­ I¡¯ll find you and tear your damn throat open.¡± The doctor scoffs.


    He clenches his fist and storms off. Charlie¡¯s corpse is left to rot next to the burning barrel with the rain sending his blood into the cracks within the cobblestone.

 Prison

    Peter and Marianne are tasked with a specific, shorter job this day; To perform a routine inspection of the inhabitants of the Bethlem Royal Hospital. Situated in the borough of Bromley, the hospital served as a psychiatric facility for the clinically insane of London.


    Dressed up in their usual work attire, the two doctors were greeted by a nurse in the lobby. The young blonde lady in the pasty white knee-length uniform with white heels bowed to the doctors. She held a clipboard in her left hand. On her white nurse¡¯s cap bore a black snake wrapped around a pole inside a red six-pointed star. Otherwise known as the Star of Life and the Rod of Asclepius.


    ¡°So glad you¡¯re here. My name is Lorene. Is this your first time here?¡± The nurse asks.


    Peter and Marianne both shake their heads.


    ¡°Ah. A-anyway follow me please. Allow me to show you around.¡±


    The nurse gingerly leads on. With the hospital containing four wings for patients, Lorene starts with the east wing. The doctors just glanced around at the sights while Lorene explained how the hospital operates and is currently dealing with the plague. The eerie moans and cries of patients locked inside their rooms sends shivers down Marianne¡¯s spine. Even Peter winces at the sounds and nearly jumps when a man slams his head against the thin glass window on his door.


    Heading into the north ward, the layout seems to be the same as the last wing. At the entrances are front desks with offices and break rooms nearby. Each wing has a dedicated patient lobby, and the hallways are lined with rooms for the patients. Lorene explains how the entire first floor is strictly for the patients while the doctors and the director all have offices upstairs. Staff works around the clock with night time being much calmer since patients tend to be less restless once the sun sets.


    ¡°This is all fine and dandy ma¡¯am¡­ But you should know why we¡¯re really here.¡± Peter speaks up.


    Lorene stops in place. A nervous chuckle escapes her lips. She turns to face him and Marianne with a frail smile.


    ¡°Oh I-I¡¯m so sorry. I uh, I don¡¯t know actually. Whoever received the memo must¡¯ve taken off somewhere. I was just told by the head nurse to wait for you two.¡± She replies.


    ¡°The homeless. Where are you keeping the homeless at?¡± Marianne asks.


    ¡°Oh dear! Apologies! O-of course you¡¯re here for them. They¡¯re uh¡­ They¡¯re in the east wing. F-follow me please.¡± Lorene answers.


    Wiping the sweat from her brow, Lorene takes the doctors into the central corridor that leads to every wing and the upstairs. She brings them to the east wing. Upon entering, the atmosphere is grimmer and depressing. Dozens upon dozens of men, women and even children in dirty, tattered clothes populate the rooms. Not a single resident is outside the rooms. Every nurse checking in on the patients is wearing a mask and extra layers of clothing to cover up every inch of skin. A brunette nurse passes by the three with bags under her eyes appearing drained of energy.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been overwhelmed with the arrival of these poor residents. By orders from the director himself, we had to transfer all the patients to the other wings so these people could be packed into the rooms. Due to potential exposure of the plague, they¡¯re forced to stay inside the rooms. We have to bring them what little food and water we can supply. I-I guess that you¡¯re here to examine these people.¡± Lorene says.


    Peter and Marianne approach the first of many rooms. Marianne motions for Lorene to stay back after she unlocks the door. She nods and obeys. Peter sighs.


    ¡°What a truly awful sight. Six filthy people crammed into a single room like birds in a cage.¡± He says.


    ¡°I took a gander at the room opposite of this one. An entire family. If any of these ¡®clean¡¯ people are exposed to plague-bearers it¡¯s safe to assume they may already be infected.¡± Marianne adds.


    ¡°Regardless we must examine these street rats.¡±


    The children stare at Marianne with perturbed looks as if she was a monster from their nightmares. She kneels down to meet them at eye-level while Peter examines the adults. They figured the drill and start offering their arms for blood samples. Marianne gathers the children with gestures and hand movements.


    ¡°W-who are you?¡± A little boy asks.


    ¡°You look scary¡­¡± A little girl adds.


    Marianne shakes her head.


    ¡°Hello there. Do not fret. I¡¯m simply a doctor here to check you all for the bad thing that¡¯s going around town. We¡¯re just here to make sure you¡¯re safe. That¡¯s all.¡± She speaks.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Marianne pulls out a syringe. Flicking the needle causes the children to jolt. They start trembling.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. One-by-one I need you all to hold out your arms to me. I will be checking your blood. The needle looks scary, I know. If you just relax¡­ Take deep breaths¡­ And look away¡­ Everything will be fine. I promise.¡±


    Her calm tone felt a bit reassuring to the children. A boy approaches first with his arm out.


    ¡°I-I¡¯ll go first. Okay? Then you all go next.¡± The dirty brown-haired boy spoke.


    Marianne held his wrist and gently stuck the needle into his arm, drawing some blood. She pulls out glass vials from her utility pack. The boy fidgets some. Marianne also pulls out bandages. She places one on the spot where she drew the blood. The boy rubs the spot.


    ¡°It hurts¡­¡± He whines.


    Marianne looks at him. She softly runs her gloved hand through his hair.


    ¡°I know. It will hurt for a spell. Give it time to heal and wane. Soon you won¡¯t even feel it.¡± She says.


    The boy nods and steps away. A blonde-haired girl steps up next.


    ¡°They¡¯re all clear. Thank goodness.¡± Marianne breathes deeply.


    Peter stashes the vials into his bag. He nods. The two wave to the children and adults before proceeding across the hallway to check the next group of people. Five to be exact. Four adults and a child. Lorene comes over after locking up the previous group to unlock the door for the next.


    The two doctors proceed to gather the blood samples and analyze them individually. Infected blood normally takes about a minute to show discoloration. One of the vials appears darker than the rest. The blood from the lone small child. A little boy with messy black hair. Marianne feels her heart sink. Peter sighs and shakes his head.


    ¡°Damn it¡­¡± Marianne mutters.


    Lorene looks concerned. She has to keep her distance though.


    ¡°What uh¡­ What¡¯s wrong?¡± She asks.


    Peter looks over to the frail nurse. He walks over to her and speaks in a quiet tone;


    ¡°The child. He¡¯s infected.¡±


    Lorene¡¯s expression changes to one of despair. She starts panicking.


    ¡°No. Dear God no¡­¡± She sobs.


    ¡°Shh. This is to be expected. No way everyone here is disease-free. We won¡¯t know for sure if it¡¯s Crow¡¯s Plague or not until we test it. For now, we must escort the child out and into quarantine. Where is your quarantine zone located?¡±


    ¡°I-in the basement. Room opposite of the morgue. All the sick transfers were taken there. B-but I have a question.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t those who have the plague be a danger to those who just have smaller illnesses like the common cold or flu?¡±


    Peter was taken aback by Lorene¡¯s question. In actuality, it would put them at risk. But with how the plague was spreading so fast, options are vastly limited.


    ¡°In theory¡­ Yes. Unfortunately, there isn¡¯t much we can do right now. Crow¡¯s Plague seems to operate as a hybrid of other existing diseases. It¡¯s unpredictable and dangerous in its own right. And with how rapid it¡¯s spreading¡­ Our priority is treating it first and foremost.¡±


    Peter rejoins Marianne. The two lead the little boy out and close the door to the room. Lorene watches as the doctors lead the boy away.


    The basement of Bethlem serves as transportation for patients who pass away and a storage unit both for supplies and the dead. Across from the morgue is a room with no label. Peter peers inside the dimly lit room to see several people inside. Most are just sitting against the wall or large crates.


    ¡°I¡­ I have to go in there?¡± The boy asks.


    He tugs on Marianne¡¯s wrist. She kneels down and pats the boy¡¯s head.


    ¡°Yes. You do. You¡¯re sick dear. For the safety of others, you need to go in there for now. Peter if you will¡­¡± She says.


    Peter nods and unlocks the doors. He opens one door. Coughs and hacks echo around them as Marianne leads the boy inside. A small group of children gathered in a corner particularly notices the new arrival. Only a few of the adults even care to glance. The boy lets go of Marianne¡¯s hand.


    ¡°We have to go now. I... I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Marianne leaves the room. She turns around to see the boy glaring at her with sullen eyes. Marianne turns away as Peter shuts the door and locks it. He rubs her back.


    ¡°You okay, love?¡± He asks.


    Marianne shakes her head. She clenches her fists.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just go. We have others to examine¡­¡±


    Peter follows behind Marianne as the two make way for the stairway.


    After he finishes marking off names on the paper, the gray-haired doctor with black-rimmed glasses lowers the clipboard. He puts the pen behind his right ear. He breathes a deep sigh, gripping the temple of his nose.


    ¡°Thirty-three infected¡­ Jesus. I had a gut feeling at least half of the homeless refugees would be carrying diseases. How many do you think have the plague?¡± The doctor asks.


    Peter and Marianne look at each then then back to the doctor.


    ¡°Unsure until the lab results are finished. It¡¯s safe to assume many of them already were diseased prior to the breakout of Crow¡¯s Plague. Regardless, they must remain in quarantine. We will do our best to treat everyone once the results are finished.¡± Peter explains.


    ¡°I understand. Thank you for coming and performing your examinations. Thankfully it seems none of the nurses are infected. As far as we know anyway.¡±


    ¡°The plague is vicious. Keep all eyes and ears peeled for anyone that may show symptoms.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Have a blessed day.¡±


    Peter and Marianne nod. The two head out the front doors, leaving Bethlem Royal Hospital for now. But they will soon return. For now, they had somewhere else to be once their shift was over; The Institute.

 Believe

    A blonde man in a deep blue suit wears a bright smile on his face as he walks down the street. He approaches one of the entrances into Brent where a police barricade has been set up. The man feels the tip of a nightstick poke his chest. His eyes shoot open. Two bobbies wearing face-masks stand at the barricade.


    ¡°Sorry sir. This borough is under quarantine. ¡®Fraid we can¡¯t let ya¡¯ in.¡± The mustached officer says.


    The man¡¯s joy washes away. He narrows his eyes past the officers to see the empty streets beyond. He clenches his fists.


    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this? I live here! I was away for a few days with m¡¯lady and I come back only to be banned from going to my own home?!¡± The man scowls.


    ¡°Multiple confirmed cases of the plague had been confirmed within Brent. The Institute ordered for quarantining of Brent. Apologies.¡±


    ¡°What?? B-but I live there!¡±


    ¡°Sir I¡¯m afraid until the plague is contained, you are forbidden from entering the borough. I suggest you go stay with your woman in the meantime.¡±


    ¡°Officer¡­ All my stuff is in my house! I¡¯m a goddamned writer! I need my materials or I won¡¯t get paid!¡±


    ¡°Relax. There¡¯s a telephone box down the street. Contact the Institute. They¡¯ll send a doctor to retrieve your belongings.¡±


    The man grits his teeth. Without saying another word, he storms down the street. On the corner sits a black telephone box with a white door. The man steps inside. He pulls out a single coin and places it in the slot. He cranks the handle to power up the machine then browses the number book until he locates the Institute. With a single finger, he clicks the numbers on the rotary dial while holding the receiver and stands against the earpiece. A series of rings goes through. Then a feminine voice speaks through the static;


    ¡°This is the London Institution of Medicine. If this is an emergency I¡¯ll transfer you to the emergency line. Otherwise, how may we be of assistance with you today?¡±


    ¡°Oi! I¡¯m a resident of Brent who just got back from a¡­ vacation. And my writing supplies are inside the house. I need them. Now send a bloody fucking doctor here at the eastside entrance on Winger Street!¡±


    ¡°Retrieval of personal goods? Understood sir. We¡¯ll dispatch a doctor to your location. Please wait and be patient for their arrival. Was there anything else?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Have a nice day. And please be safe.¡±


    The man slams the receiver back onto the switch hook. He sighs, stepping out of the booth to return to the entrance where the bobbies stood guarding. Crossing his arms, he just leans against a wall and pouts.


    ¡°Stop! Let me go this instance you leather-coated bloke!¡±


    A black-haired woman calls out, struggling to break free as a Black Doctor carries her, wrists bound by cuffs. Her husband, a blonde-haired man with a mustache and their black-haired son watch from the doorstep. The woman is forcibly thrown into a carriage as it takes off with her inside after the doctor slaps the driver¡¯s window. He returns to the man and boy. Her cries are muffled by the carriage¡¯s crankshaft mechanical engine.


    ¡°Inside. Both of you. Now!¡± The doctor shouts.


    The man grabs his son¡¯s shoulder and leads him inside. They are joined by the doctor who shuts the door behind him. The boy hides behind his father.


    ¡°What now?? You just took my wife from me! She cooks. Cleans. Watches our son. I have to work down at the foundry.¡±


    The doctor pulls out a sheet of paper from inside his coat and hands it to the man. He scans its contents.


    ¡°Barking and Dagenham is now under quarantine. Multiple confirmed cases of the plague in these parts. Your wife included. Under orders by the Institute, the infected are to be withdrawn from a quarantine zone. You and your son are restricted from leaving the confines of your home until the quarantine is lifted. You will be temporarily out of work and the school is closed so studies must be done within these walls. The Barker household is on the list to receive government aid for the time being. Be grateful you and your son did not contract the plague.¡± The doctor explains.


    Barker clutches his hair, pulling some out of his head. His son looks up at him.


    ¡°S-so there¡¯s no school anymore?¡± He asks.


    Barker just nods. The doctor also nods.


    ¡°This is unfathomable¡­¡± Barker sighs.


    He scratches his head. The doctor backs up some, his hand on the doorknob.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°I assure you this is for your own safety. Your wife is still full of life and energy so it¡¯s possible the plague hasn¡¯t completely spread through her system. If she is compatible with Rainmaker, then we can eradicate the plague. If she is not compatible¡­ Then she will not be returning. Good day to you both. And good luck. Expect a visit soon for a scheduled checkup.¡±


    With that, the doctor leaves the house. Barker locks the front door. He looks to his son with worry in his eyes.


    ¡°The man with the beak¡­ H-he said mom might not return?¡± The boy says.


    Barker goes to his son, kneels down and embraces him.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just pray she¡¯ll make it through. Okay?¡± Barker murmurs.


    ¡°Okay, father¡­¡±


    The steam carriage travels down into a tunnel leading to an underground lot near a structure with but a single window and door labeled: ¡®QUARANTINE¡¯.


    Biting her tongue, the woman¡¯s hands tremble. Red marks on her palms and forehead from slamming against the interior windows and doors. The passenger side door opens. A masked man in a black uniform motions for her to step out. She begrudgingly shuffles over and steps out of the carriage. She looks around at the underground complex.


    ¡°Where are we? Where are you taking me??¡± She asks in a panicked tone.


    Her fears grow as a lean Black Doctor steps out of the complex. They approach the woman and the carriage driver. They wave the driver off then get closer to the woman, reaching a hand up to gently grab her chin and inspect her face.


    ¡°My. Aren¡¯t you a beaut? Come with me, ma¡¯am.¡± The doctor speaks in a deep, masculine tone.


    Hesitant, the woman silently nods. She swallows hard. The carriage begins to take off as she is led into the complex. Through a dimly-lit hallway, they arrive at an elevator. The doctor pulls the latch on the floor, the small yellow arrow pointing at the letter ¡®B¡¯.


    Reaching the designated floor, the woman is led down a hallway filled with individual rooms. The doctor finds an empty room. He pulls out a ring chock full of various keys to unlock the room. He then undoes the cuffs, grabs the woman¡¯s arm and shoves her into the room. She falls to her knees. Before she can even get up to leave, the door is closed on her. The doctor then locks the door.


    ¡°You asshole! Let me out of here this instance! I¡¯m not some prisoner damn it!!¡± The woman slams her fists on the window.


    ¡°Sorry dame. Afraid I can¡¯t. You¡¯re in here until you get treated with Rainmaker. Should it rid your bones and blood of the plague¡­ You¡¯ll be released. If you¡¯re beyond saving well¡­ Going to have to put you down like a sick dog.¡± The doctor explains.


    The woman¡¯s eyes widen. She shakes her head.


    ¡°P-put d-down??¡±


    ¡°Relax. Seems like the plague hasn¡¯t kicked you down. May be alright. May not be. Someone should treat you soon. Until then. You have a chair and a bed. Let¡¯s hope your days aren¡¯t numbered.¡±


    The woman pounds on the window as she watches the doctor leave. Her teeth grinding.


    ¡°Your fucking cure better work on me! I will not leave my family without a mother and wife!¡±


    Her words carry no weight here. She finds herself out of breath from all the fussing. All she can do is lie down on the bed and await her visitor.


    While not drawing nearly as large of a crowd, the Institute saw a mass of people gathered in the courtyard just outside the front entrance to the main building. The London Institution of Medicine was divided into three structures all connected on a single property. The tall, center building was the main headquarters full of offices including the one for the headmistress herself. The right two-story building housed the research labs and medical facilities. And the wide leftmost building standing several stories high was home to classrooms and dorms for students studying there. Altogether, the Institute held a high position in serving as both a medical school and state-of-the-art facility for advancing the fields of medicine.


    All eyes were on the individual walking out of the main building. Headmistress Weston stands firmly with the attention completely on her now. She holds a clipboard with two pieces of paper. In the audience, Peter and Marianne sit glaring at the woman. Weston clears her throat.


    ¡°Do not expect a long-winding speech with lots of colorful wordplay from me today ladies and gentlemen. I am simply here to deliver updates regarding how our institution is dealing with the Crow¡¯s Plague in conjunction to our partnership shared with the London city government. Numbers of victims succumbing to the plague are increasing by the day. As you all know, our Black Doctor division has been treating the populace ever since the outbreak first occurred. It¡¯s a terrifying revelation and position we find ourselves in. To hopefully ease some of your fears, our scientists are working on a new variant of the antiviral serum, Rainmaker. Thanks to studies from reports of the victims and their symptoms, Rainmaker¡¯s new variant should effectively combat the plague to a much better degree. We¡¯re in the final stage of development as we speak. After initial testing, we¡¯ll tweak what we need to then start equipping our doctors with the updated Rainmaker. For those victims fortunate enough to have not been taken from us, hopefully they can be treated and have the plague eradicated from their systems¡­¡± Weston spoke.


    Some people were taking notes. Journalists and news reporters were scribbling down her words. There was a feeling of hope resonating from Weston¡¯s words to not only the common folk, but also the various doctors in the audience including Peter and Marianne.


    ¡°¡­ Our fair city had already been ravaged once by a great plague. While an endemic is not easy to deal with¡­ Especially one who¡¯s source is still unknown at this time¡­ We are in a new age of advancing medicine and technology. The Institute will combat the plague with everything at its disposal. You, the people of London, must believe in us. Believe¡­ That life will return to normal once this blight on our city comes to an eventual end.¡±


    People start clapping. Soon the entire crowd was clapping, even some cheers and whistles came out. Weston smiles and nods.


    ¡°Thank you. Continue to believe in our fight. Times are bleak right now but there is hope. I, headmistress Paige Weston, promise that the Crow¡¯s Plague will not last much longer. Once the new Rainmaker variant is done and more people can be cured, can we work to halt the spreading of the sickness. Make sure to continue to follow safety guidelines and protocols dictated by the government. Report any and all infected individuals. Doctors will gladly assist anyone in need of aid. And¡­ May this plague meet a swift end. Thank you once again.¡±


    Headmistress Weston bows for the crowd as they cheer. She heads inside and the people begin to disperse from the courtyard. Peter and Marianne don¡¯t speak a word. In their minds they¡¯re thinking of several things Weston had said. What she didn''t say. They hold hands as they leave to head for the nearest trolley to take them back to their borough.

 A Brewing Plot

    Heavy footsteps descending stairs echoed through the dark tunnel. The only source of light was a gasoline lantern being held by the mysterious figure. They reach the bottom and pull out a set of keys to unlock the door in front of them.


    A thousand rats scurried and scampered about inside their massive glass prison. The Black Doctor pulls a lever on the wall. Electricity runs through the many wires to illuminate the wall lamps. They turned the lantern off and set it down. Glass prison aside, the room also contained a table with beakers and cups, a single chair, a shelf containing various bottles of liquids, some small iron cages, buckets full of meat and grains, and an extra doctor¡¯s outfit hanging from the wall.


    The doctor grabs one of the buckets to feed the rats. They open a hatch on the ceiling of the glass prison and start scooping food out with their hand to drop into the mass of rats. All of the rats hone in on the food.


    ¡°Eat up, children.¡± They speak in a deep tone.


    He closes the hatch and sets the bucket down. In the table drawer is a clipboard. He pulls it out to check the notes.


    ¡°Hmm. Ah, right. Brent¡­ Barking and Dagenham¡­ Two more. I¡¯ll have to go hunt down the vermin here soon.¡±


    After writing some more notes, he tosses the clipboard back into the drawer, shutting it. He grabs one of the cages then goes to the glass prison. On the side is another hatch. He opens it to grab some rats one-by-one, stuffing them into the cage. Once at least six are in there, he closes the hatch. With a group of rats on hand, he heads out of the room and locks the door behind him.


    The gray bed sheets moved like waves in the ocean. Heavy breathing emanated from underneath. A single hand pokes out, grasping the mattress. The movements intensified. Marianne shuffles the sheet off of her while her hips sway. Peter¡¯s hands grasp her thighs. Their bodies sweating profusely with every thrust. She grabs her bare breasts as Peter squeezes her skin. He grits his teeth. She bites her lower lip with a loud moan escaping. He gasps. She bends down, pressing her hands to his hairy chest and kissing him.


    Marianne shuffles off of Peter and lies down next to him. He turns to face her. Her black hair is messy and unkempt. Their naked bodies are drenched in sweat. They just smile.


    ¡°Been some time since you last rode me like that, love.¡± Peter smirks.


    ¡°Apologies. We¡¯ve been quite occupied as of late. But¡­ I¡¯d lie if I said I wasn¡¯t craving your touch to an excessive degree.¡± Marianne replies with a lick of her lips.


    ¡°Fair. Seems we¡¯ve hardly ever had time to enjoy each other¡¯s company in the privacy of our own home. After dinner we just lie in bed until our bodies shut down.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s going to be that way for a while I fear.¡±


    ¡°Of course. You know, Marianne¡­ We should feel grateful.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°We make for an exceptional team. Not only did we major in the same field, but our cooperation is unmatched. The chairwoman would never split us apart during work. Especially now when so many people need examining every single day.¡±


    ¡°Hm. How different would our lives be had we not taken an interest in medicine together? Graduated from the Institute together?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we still would be together. After all, we did start mingling in high school. Private schools kept us apart by our genders but that didn¡¯t stop our eyes from meeting that fateful day in the caf¨¦ on Sansbury Street.¡±


    ¡°I suppose so. I meant more by if either one of us hadn¡¯t pursued medicine. We wouldn¡¯t have spent our days in the Institute taking classes together. Meeting up after class and spending time together before curfew.¡±


    ¡°Hm. Well I¡¯m not sure. My mind is elsewhere to comprehend that alternate history. Now¡­ We should get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°Right. Goodnight, dear.¡±


    ¡°Goodnight, love.¡±


    The two kiss and drift off to sleep.


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ You¡­ Dare¡­ Step closer! I won¡¯t let you take my son you wretched thugs! I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re doctors!¡±


    A spiteful, black-haired man wields a knife while a boy sharing the same hair color cowers in the corner of the room. Peter shakes his head. Marianne holds her hands out, palms wide open.


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    ¡°Please sir. You¡¯re already at risk of catching the plague. Your son needs to be evicted at once so he can be treated soon! It¡¯s only but a matter of time before the new serum is-¡°


    ¡°You can¡¯t even cure him here and now?! Like hell I¡¯m letting him go! I¡¯ll take the damned risk! My immune system is great! I¡¯m medicated and perfectly healthy! I-I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be fine! Come back once your damned cure is here!¡±


    Peter puts a hand on Marianne¡¯s shoulder. He inches closer and closer until the tip of the knife is touching his chest. His cold eyes behind the glass sockets glare at the man. He¡¯s trembling in his boots. The boy looks as if he¡¯s about to cry.


    ¡°Do not be an imbecile, sir. We¡¯re the professionals here. And your child is a health risk. Evicting him and transferring him to the Institute is a priority. If you do not step aside¡­ Then you will force my hand.¡±


    The man¡¯s angered expression fades to terror. He shakes his head.


    ¡°No! Please, just¡­ Let us go! I won¡¯t let him go until that cure is ready!¡±


    Marianne steps next to Peter. She unsheathes her serrated blade and holds it out directly to the man¡¯s chest. The boy gets further away. His father turns his head to see his son moving away. Sweat is beading his forehead.


    ¡°Son. Come on. Y-you¡¯ll be fine. I promise, these people won¡¯t take you away-¡°


    With swiftness like a hawk, Marianne slashes the man¡¯s throat open. He falls to the floor, gagging on his own blood. Peter walks over the body into the room where the teary-eyed boy cowered. He kneels to meet the boy¡¯s eyes with a hand held out. The boy, feeling confused and scared, peers over at his dead father then to Peter.


    ¡°Come. Child. Do not be afraid. We¡¯ll protect you. He was only going to get in our way.¡± Peter murmurs.


    Despite hesitation, the boy silently nods and takes his hand. Marianne writes in her notepad after covering up the man¡¯s body. Peter escorts the boy out of the house. Marianne leaves a piece of paper in the door as a reminder for the body to be picked up. The two doctors take the boy¡¯s hands and begin walking away. Their hearts felt heavy.


    Lanterns lit the stone walls and pillars with a warm, orange glow. A lone individual descends the stairs leading into the open room. He holds a paper rolled up in his grasp. Sitting at a table, a hooded man is writing on paper with a quill dipped in ink. Rows of candles lighting his view. He glances up to see the individual passing by. He sets the quill down and clears his throat.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir. State your business.¡± He says.


    The man with the paper pulls his hood down, revealing his bald head. A single scar across his right eye.


    ¡°Oh. It¡¯s you. Carry on then. The headmaster is in his office.¡±


    The scarred man nods and continues walking. He ascends the few steps. His footsteps echo in the empty hallway leading to a set of three doors. He approaches the right door, turning the knob and opening it. Inside the office is a bookshelf, a single chair in front of the desk, a mechanical clock on the wall, a lamp hanging from the ceiling and a single painting of the London skyline. At the desk sits a man in a black top hat wearing a black suit with a white tie. The desk has an hourglass, a stack of papers, ink pot and quill. He¡¯s reading a black book. His eyes narrow in on the scarred man entering his personal space.


    ¡°Mister Magrath. I see you¡¯ve returned. Come. Have a seat.¡± He says with a friendly gesture towards the empty chair facing him.


    Magrath nods. He sits down then unfolds the paper.


    ¡°Chairman Corbeld.¡± Magrath says.


    ¡°Do you bring good tidings? Inform me.¡±


    ¡°The plague continues to spread. Many are locked inside their homes or barred from entering their own boroughs, resorting to a spike in hotel reservations. Bethlam continues to receive homeless residents. It won¡¯t be long before they¡¯re full and the homeless will be sent elsewhere for quarantine.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. It¡¯s getting that bad, eh?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Would you like my prediction as to where they will be going once Bethlam is full?¡±


    ¡°Go on¡­¡±


    ¡°There are countless empty buildings. Abandoned businesses and factories. The government may take swift action and start having the police move the homeless to these places. Away from the public and contained safely somewhere they can be monitored at all times. Until the Institute¡¯s revolutionary new Rainmaker variant is released, many will continue to be culled by the Black Doctors to maintain order and safety.¡±


    Corbeld leans back in his chair. The legs squeak as he crosses one leg over the other. He taps his chin.


    ¡°I see. But you are missing a crucial detail my friend.¡± Corbeld notes.


    ¡°And what is that?¡±


    ¡°As you may know, I work with the Institute. Rainmaker is being utilized on the general public first and foremost. The working class. They matter. They work, pay taxes, purchase goods, and keep the gears of society turning. The homeless are but a blight on this city. Only but the last priority on the Institute¡¯s list. Meaning they will continue to suffer from the plague while those contributing to society are treated and cured. See what I mean?¡±


    ¡°I do. This is¡­ What we want, no?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Much of the city remains safe for now. But the plague will only continue to spread like the virus contaminating one¡¯s own immune system. As long as it doesn¡¯t get¡­ ¡®Too¡¯ out of control, then our goal will be met.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Of course. Our agents are on the move as we speak. In just a few days, I¡¯m sure another batch of boroughs will be hit by the plague.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it will. Rainmaker is still in the works. They¡¯re working hard on perfecting the serum to treat the infected. But as we know, perfection takes time. Every test needs recording. Every failure needs correction. Everything is on the line here. The Institute will release the new Rainmaker variant to it¡¯s Black Doctors once the time is right. Until then¡­ Our goal remains.¡±


    ¡°Right. Well, what should I do in the meantime?¡±


    ¡°What you always do. Keep your place. Record. And maintain a low profile. Each report is crucial in understanding the current state of things. Now¡­ You are dismissed, Magrath.¡±


    ¡°Understood, Corbeld.¡±


    Magrath stands up. He hands the parchment to Corbeld. The two shake hands. Corbeld¡¯s crooked smile remains in Magrath¡¯s mind as he leaves the office.

 Rats

    Lying on a stiff bed, the contained woman softly weeps to herself. She was all alone in the room. Separated from her family. Then the door knob turns. She glances up through misty eyes to see a Black Doctor enter the room. They have a slender figure and seems to be around her height. In their hand is a satchel.


    ¡°Miss? Hello there.¡± The doctor speaks in a soft tone.


    The woman wipes her eyes, her guard lowering from the more welcoming feminine voice. She swings her legs off of the bedside. The doctor takes a seat next to her. Inside the satchel, she takes out a single vial of a deep purple liquid and a syringe. She presses a gloved hand on top of the woman¡¯s own hand.


    ¡°W-what is that?¡± The woman asks.


    ¡°Well¡­ This is the latest batch of the new Rainmaker variant. We are to test it on subjects such as yourself who resisted the current Rainmaker. You and the others pose a danger to the populace so we¡¯re keeping you all here. It¡¯s for the good of the people we get this Rainmaker variant perfect to fight the plague. I¡¯ll need you to hold still now, okay?¡±


    The woman starts weeping again. The doctor stops. She sets the syringe down and looks to the woman.


    ¡°Miss. Please. You don¡¯t have to cry.¡± She says.


    Tears streak down the woman¡¯s cheeks. The doctor places a hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°You people tear me away from my home. Lock me up. Now I¡¯m being tested on?? I¡¯m doomed¡­¡± The woman sobs.


    ¡°Calm down, please. I know¡­ I know this is hard. Whoever brought you here must¡¯ve terrified you. We¡¯re¡­ Not exactly welcoming. How about¡­ I give you, my name?¡±


    The woman looks to the doctor and wipes her eyes. She just nods.


    ¡°I¡¯m Zelma. And what about you? What is your name miss?¡± The doctor says.


    She hesitates to answer for a moment. Then her lips open;


    ¡°C¡­ Carrie.¡± Her voice trembles.


    The doctor gently rubs her shoulder to ease her fear.


    ¡°Carrie. A lovely name. I assure you dear¡­ Us doctors all care for the safety of the people. This is a scary time for everyone. Once we can perfect Rainmaker¡­ We¡¯ll be able to cure everyone of this heinous plague. So¡­ All I can say is try to remain optimistic. The plague hasn¡¯t taken you yet. How are you feeling by the way?¡± Zelma asks.


    ¡°Fine. I think? I have a terrible headache and my body aches.¡± Carrie coughs. ¡°O-oh and that too.¡±


    Zelma nods. She then pulls out a leather strap. She carefully wraps it around Carrie¡¯s forearm to tighten the circulation of blood in her veins and isolate the designated area for the syringe.


    ¡°I see. The plague affects everyone a little bit differently. Weak immune systems are the most vulnerable, leading to death within a day or two of infection. Stronger systems such as yours must be seem to combat its virulent nature. Now¡­ Hold still for me Carrie. Okay?¡±


    ¡°S-sure.¡±


    Zelma takes the syringe to dip the needle into the vial, filling it up with the liquid. She flicks the tip of the needle, brings it over to Carrie¡¯s arm and slowly jabs it into her forearm with precision. Carrie squirms slightly. The purple liquid feeds into her veins. A second passes once the syringe is empty and Zelma pulls it out. Carrie breathes a sigh of relief. Zelma grabs a bandage to wrap around the bleeding spot left in the woman¡¯s arm. She gives a gentle pat once it¡¯s sealed.


    ¡°There we go. Not so bad, right?¡± Zelma asks.


    Carrie is trying to match a face to the voice. She¡¯s imagining bright eyes and a warm smile beneath the intimidating beaked mask. It brings her some ease. She nods, even managing a grin. Zelma nods.


    ¡°If it will make you feel better¡­ I¡¯ll make sure to come check on you tomorrow. I need to see if this Rainmaker variant is having any effect compared to the current variant. I will warn you now. This isn¡¯t complete yet. Still in the testing stage. But you and the others¡¯ cooperation will help us in getting it perfect.¡± Zelma explains.


    ¡°I¡­ O-okay.¡±


    ¡°So, symptoms may still stick around. Maybe not. Getting a sample of your blood after twenty-four hours once Rainmaker has settled into your system will help me determine its effectiveness. Does that¡­ Make sense?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It does. I think?¡±


    ¡°Good. You¡¯re a strong woman, Carrie. Hopefully we¡¯ll be able to get you out of here and back to your family. You¡¯re just one of so many who unfortunately caught the plague. We¡¯re overwhelmed beyond belief so please be patient.¡±


    Zelma packs up her things into the satchel and heads for the door. She turns around to wave a hand at Carrie.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you again, okay?¡± She says.


    Carrie nods and waves back. Zelma leaves the room, locking the door behind her. Carrie is still in distress but feels a little better after engaging with the friendly doctor. She lays back down to try and get some rest.


    A group of rats slink around trash cans and trash bags while they maneuver through the alleyway. They move like an orchestrated squad of soldiers locked into formation. The rats then split off towards various places. One slips through a basement window cracked slightly open. Another scurries across an empty road without being caught by any people as it runs up a pipe on the side of a blacksmith and crawls into an air vent on the roof.


    The wandering rat slides in-between two trash cans. Its beady eyes look around to find a place in the alley to head towards. Before it can dart away, a boot steps on its tail. The rat begins to panic. A bobby looks on in disgust at the vermin. He lifts his other boot and brings it down to squish the rat. Its guts spill out of its bloody corpse. Horrified by its size, he runs off to find a street cleaner to dispose of the creature.


    Inside of a townhouse, a black-haired man reads the newspaper while a blonde woman knits away. He lowers the paper and looks to his wife.


    ¡°Oi¡¯ honey. I just remembered¡­ I needa¡¯ sell that box o¡¯ junk downstairs. Mind grabbin¡¯ it for me? My feet ¡®re killin¡¯ me from work.¡± He asks.


    She sighs, setting her needles and fabric down next to her.


    ¡°Oh fine.¡± She replies.


    The woman gets up to walk to the basement door. She bends down to lift it up off the ground. She descends the stairs and pulls a chain on the ceiling to light up the basement. Her eyes glance around until she spots a gangly rat sniffing around a couple dead bugs on the floor not far from the box of junk. A blood-curdling scream erupts from her.


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    Upstairs, the man jumps in his spot on the couch. He throws the newspaper down and runs towards the basement door. He quickly steps down to find his wife cowering in the corner holding a broken broomstick.


    ¡°What the hell are ye¡¯ screamin¡¯ at?!¡± He shouts.


    ¡°R-r-rat!!!¡± The woman stammers.


    He looks over to where the broomstick is pointed at. The rat is nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°Where??¡±


    ¡°I-it ran and hid behind t-those boxes! I-I-I saw it n-near the junk b-box you wanted!¡±


    The man carefully steps closer to the area where the rat was. For a brief second, he sees the rat dart past him to another corner behind more boxes. He feels panic set in and runs over to his wife. His hand reaches out and grabs hers.


    ¡°We needa¡¯ leave now! C¡¯mon!¡± He says.


    The two head up the stairs and shut the basement door. He takes her outside of the house and down the block to a telephone box. He steps inside and quickly turns the dial. His hand trembles as he holds the receiver.


    ¡°London Street Department. Bennett speaking.¡±


    ¡°We need an exterminator down ¡®ere on Fourty-Two Easting Street! Gots¡¯ us a rat in our basement!¡±


    ¡°Understood. We¡¯ll send an exterminator to your location. Stay out of the house. This goes for anyone else in your residence.¡±


    ¡°Me an¡¯ my wife are down the block. We¡¯ll wait here!¡±


    The man puts the receiver back on its rack. He steps out of the box to his wife shaking in her boots. He puts an arm around her to comfort her.


    ¡°Rats? In Newham? Aw hell¡­ Make sure they are taken care of as soon as possible! Have your men scour every bloody nook and cranny of the fucking borough! Those vile vermin harbor the plague! See to it at once!¡±


    The stern-looking gentleman with a curled auburn mustache and chestnut bowler hat slams the receiver down on the hooks. He wipes the sweat from his brow. The door to his office opens up. Corbeld steps inside with an eyebrow raised.


    ¡°Everything okay, sir Walsh? I overheard something about rats?¡±


    Walsh shakes his head. He leans back in his chair, palms over his face.


    ¡°You overheard correctly. Newham is next to a quarantine zone so odds are they must¡¯ve found their way over to Newham. Damned vermin¡­ I¡¯m led to believe they¡¯re to blame for the Crow¡¯s Plague.¡±


    Corbeld takes a seat in front of the man. He cups his hands together.


    ¡°Oh? And why is that?¡± He asks.


    ¡°Think about it. Rats were involved in the Great Plague back in sixteen-sixty-five and six. They¡¯ve always been disease-spreading vermin. While the city¡¯s poorer conditions were also to blame¡­ nonetheless the pests aided in spreading their filth. And lest we not forget the Black Death that ravaged all of Europe¡­¡± Walsh murmured.


    ¡°Right. Right¡­ Yes, this is indeed a problem. Perhaps the sudden infestation of rats is what started the plague.¡±


    ¡°Yet we do not know where they came from. The police are still investigating shipments from foreign nations and so forth. They must¡¯ve come from somewhere. London has been a clean city ever since that damned Great Plague shifted the governments entire focus to reworking our infrastructure, safety standards and sanitation.¡±


    Corbeld simply nodded.


    ¡°And what of you, Corbeld? Are you in agreement with me?¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir. Whether accidental or intentional, the Crow¡¯s Plague started somewhere here. Surely, we¡¯ll purge this filth from our fair city in due time. We just need to act fast. That goes double for the Institute and their development of Rainmaker to cure the infected.¡±


    ¡°Good to know. Shelving that aside for now¡­ Why did you need to see me?¡±


    Corbeld pulls out a file tucked away inside his overcoat and sets it on the desk. Walsh takes a look at its contents.


    ¡°A report from Bethlam¡¯s owner. The hospital has reached max capacity and can no longer take in the homeless. He is requesting that Parliament opens up new areas to store homeless residents of quarantine zones. This is a serious matter, Walsh. As Secretary of State and a dear friend of mine, I thought I¡¯d bring this to your attention first and foremost.¡±


    Walsh glances through the report. He sighs and sets the paper down.


    ¡°Shit. Already? I¡¯m always holed up inside so I¡¯m unaware of just how bad things have gotten out there. I live but a few blocks from work and never leave the district.¡±


    ¡°Mhm. My advice? Take this to Parliament and fast. With Bethlam barring entry, further homeless will have nowhere to go. That also means those who are infected could be contaminating others around them. And lest we not be forced to¡­. Result to the ¡®last resort.¡¯ You know what I mean.¡±


    Walsh swallows hard. He takes the folder then stands up.


    ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll see to it that this gets approved. The police will be working overtime rounding up the homeless. They need to be taken elsewhere away from the populace. The Institute is already housing working-class citizens with the plague so we can forget about asking them.¡± Walsh says as he heads for the door.


    ¡°Understood. You go and do that Walsh. I¡¯ll be taking my leave as well. I am quite the busy man after all. Got places to be, you know?¡±


    ¡°Yes yes. Go on then Corbeld.¡±


    Corbeld nods to Walsh who holds the door open. The two leave the office then go their separate ways. Corbeld smirks on his way out of the building.


    Night falls on London. Bobbies are scrambling to evacuate residents from Newham after a pair of residents were found dead in their home and several rats were spotted in the home¡¯s kitchen. People with suitcases, bags, backpacks and purses leave their homes. Business owners force customers out to shut their stores down. The two resident factories cease production and the local mail delivery service halts all services. Bobbies set up checkpoints at the borders leading in and out of Newham. Citizens stand lined up in the blistering cold as they are led out of the borough. Black Doctors stand at their steam carriages checking citizens individually for any signs of the plague.


    Exterminators are a branch of the city¡¯s Street Department. Due to the potential risks in dealing with and handling any form of pests and vermin, exterminators wear fully-protective mustard yellow leather suits and a sealed mask. They¡¯re equipped with lethal electrical traps. These engineering marvels are designed like bear traps lined with a big handle for carrying, copper wires and a basket for storing bait hooked up to a fuse box that is remotely triggered by a handheld switch connected to the fuse box, sending ten-thousand volts through the wires to zap anything within the trap. Alongside these traps, exterminators also carry pouches full of various forms of bait and a steel rod with pincers. Once the pests are killed, exterminators will bring in a sealed steel cage from their steam carriages to store the corpses into using the rod tool after deactivating the trap. With that, the exterminator has fulfilled their job.


    Peter and Marianne cover up the corpses of the deceased residents, storing their contaminated blood samples into Peter¡¯s bag. A steel cage filled with dead rats sits in a corner of the kitchen next to a folded-up trap. The exterminator heads into the living room where Peter and Marianne are stationed.


    ¡°I¡¯m packing up. I¡¯ll leave the victims to you two.¡± He says.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Peter responds.


    The exterminator grabs the cage and trap. He nods to the doctors before he heads out of the house. Marianne looks to Peter. He looks back. They both nod to each other. Together, they toss the bodies over their shoulders to bring them outside. The exterminator hops into his steam carriage and drives off. Peter and Marianne set the bodies down into the wagon hooked up to their carriage. Before they set off, a third doctor is walking in their direction also carrying a body on their shoulders. They set the body down alongside the other two.


    ¡°Where¡¯d this one come from?¡± Marianne asks.


    ¡°Aye. They was just down the block. Found em¡¯ laying in a pool of their own stomach bile and an empty bottle o¡¯ pills on their nightstand. Poor bastard must¡¯ve been sick and got paranoid so he overdosed.¡± The doctor speaks in a sonorous, masculine tone.


    ¡°Oh. Damn¡­¡±


    ¡°You already gots¡¯ a wagon so I figured I¡¯d bring em¡¯ to ya¡¯. Appreciate it. My shift is about over so I¡¯m headed off.¡±


    The doctor waves then walks off in the opposite direction from whence he came from. Marianne goes to shut the front door to the house after leaving a piece of paper in the doorway. Peter starts up the carriage. Marianne hops into the passenger seat.


    ¡°What a fucking day. Off we go then I suppose.¡± Peter mutters.


    Marianne leans her head back. Peter drives the carriage out of the borough. The two are silent during the lengthy drive to Redbridge. A crew of men with flamethrowers wave to the doctors as they pull up to the disposal site. They step out to haul the bodies off the cart and into the sectioned-off area marked with yellow tape strapped to steel poles. Three more added to an already large heap of bodies. The couple watches from afar as the men scorch the bodies. Smoke rises from the site into the gray skies above.