Ambrosia

One year prior...

Tom had been walking through the sidewalks of London peacefully, as if not having a care in the world. He had been heading towards home, trying to make sure that everything was going to accord. He had one hand with a large, cardboard portfolio and the other with his backpack.

Everything is beginning to make sense. Ambrosia is soon going to become a worldwide epidemic--beyond the United States--it soon will approach us! he thought through his head hastily. He began going up the steps of the townhouse as he unlocked the door, looking inside.

“Mum! I have the answer on how to avoid Am--” he stopped, looking around. Everything seemed incredibly quiet. The house seemed almost vacant, but was full of the elegant furnishing still. The fireplace had been left, lighting the room with a dim, eerie glow. It was nearing nightfall and the sunset only seemed to evade from the shading windows. Tom took a step forward, wondering where everyone was.

“...Mum?” he spoke again, but more quietly. He looked towards the couch to see that there was a small handgun that laid over a wrinkled, crooked pillow over the messy blanket folded on top of the cushion. He bit his lip, wondering if someone had broken into the house. Taking the gun in his hand, he had looked around with a looming expression. He slowly crept his way towards the kitchen, looking to see that everything was still in place. Nothing seemed to be touched.

“This is all very odd,” he spoke again, laughing to himself.

“TOM!” someone screamed suddenly. The sound of the screaming was far worse than Tom had ever heard in his life. It never ended, so much emphasis in one name, the sound of their panicked cries overlapping. It sounded as though their throat was burning in excruciating pain. Tom’s eyes widened as he quickly turned around, seeing the figure of his mother standing in the doorway. She was wearing her nightgown still, but it’s pearl, satin shine had been drowned in a bright red stain of blood. She looked incredibly pale as light purple and blue bumps seemed to chafe on her arms, neck, and cheekbones. She was staring at him with bright, hazel eyes that were dilated, her rosy, red-brown hair that was curly and full of snarls was all over the place. She took a step forward with what seemed to be a broken foot that was pointed awkwardly in an unnatural direction. Tom took another step back, gasping.

“Mum! Mum, what happened!?” he asked her.

She didn’t listen though, just keeping her fast, limping pace towards him, clenching her fists as she was growling under her breath. Tom almost panicked, holding the gun up at her, breathing heavily and hesitantly.

“Mum... Mum, I don’t want to shoot you, please, back away!” his voice quivered as he backed up against the counter.

“TOMMY!” she screamed again, suddenly springing forward in an eagle spread as she held her arms out to pull him forward to her. She kept a curdle in her scream as she had jumped towards him, her eyes wide, staring into his fearful, bright, brown eyes.

With the push of one finger, the sound of death seemed to move through the air in no time. Tom’s eyes were bloodshot as tears fell down his cheeks, his mother suddenly falling into him, staring at him with a dumbstruck expression, without words. Her face was just above his, her forehead rested on him as her deadweight had pushed him down. Tom removed his hand holding the gun from where her heart was, his hand covered in blood that seemed to be a pale red, but was thick and almost sticky. The infection of Ambrosia had been infecting her. She was able to control her speech, but only that. It would have been a good 20 minutes before she lost total control of her senses.

Tom had fallen to his knees as he placed his mother next to him, lying down against the kitchen tile as he began to slowly whimper. He didn’t care of the blood on his hand, involuntarily pushing his hands against his head, pulling his hair as he cried more. He had regretted every moment he thought of shooting her. He wondered if he could do it, and obviously, he could.

As the months past, Tom had decided it was best to move his research to the United States. With all of this on his mind, he had been studying about the first ideas of Ambrosia and what they thought they could do with such a creation. He studied about Kevin Grays and his first ideas of it. He then focused on his daughter, Allison. He knew the only way to get close to her was that if he went to Piscataway, New Jersey. It seemed the only way to learn more from the disease. Only at the age of 16, he was able to get a license to carry a gun with him, since he was going to USA, the source of Ambrosia. He wanted to find out how to cure it. He wanted to find out how his mother had gotten it.

When he had first arrived to Newark, New Jersey, he had taken several buses towards Piscataway. Finally when he had arrived, he knew he couldn’t say anything just yet. He knew the time would come where they would eventually have to evacuate. He decided to wait until that time to reveal that he needed information about the Daughter of the Plague.As he watched her, he noticed her friendships growing. He noticed her habits, what she liked to do, where she went, and how her suspicion grew. He had found that she too, was interested in finding a cure.

Now was the time to make his move.