Chapter 3 : The Blood Curtain Enfolds
"Breaking news! Just this morning exactly 5:44 AM, NYC local police found 11 people dead in a small apartment located on the outskirts of the city. The authority confirms the incident as an 'act of terrorism' as 2 children and 9 adults are found dead in their rooms with blood flowing from their ears and their eyes dilated with pure white pupils. Surprisingly a man was found healthy and alive in one of the rooms. Authority advised civilians to stay in their homes and report anything suspicious in your area."
The large flatscreen TV turns blank as a man wearing expensive clothing picked his phone up and called someone.
"Ring! Ring! Rin- Beep."
"Talk."
A heavy voice came from the phone's speaker.
"I finally found him."
The man said as he smiled eerily.
Chapter 3: The Crimson Curtain Enfolds
"Kyle Larkin, 27 yrs. Old, born in California on the 13th of February, measuring 6'4 feet tall and weighing 187 lbs, Half-American and Half-Korean descent…"
A large man around 6'7 feet tall and has bulging arms covered with scars continued inspecting a stack of documents about Kyle's identity. He's wearing a green U.S military uniform with several badges in it, the one with '7 leafs' particularly blinding as the weak sunlight hit its glossy surface with his name written below it, Lieutenant Colonel John Johnson.
3 people are inside the room with Kyle and LTC Johnson sitting in front of a square desk, parallel to each other. A young man around Kyle's age with a slightly square face and crew-cut hair, same with his Lieutenant, was standing a few inches away from LTC Johnson's right side. He was wearing classy black glasses, the sun's reflection hitting it covering both of his eyes. He was the Lieutenant's most trusted aide, Captain Edward Grants.
"Educational attainment, 3rd year of high school, hmmm, Blood type, Rh null…"
He paused as he wears a puzzled look at his face after reading Kyle's blood type. Edward then stepped forward as he whispered something to Lieutenant's ears.
"Rh null is one of the rarest blood types in the world sir."
"Is that so?"
He said as the both of them glanced at Kyle. He just shrugged his shoulders in response.
Lieutenant began speeding through the papers as something caught's his attention.
'Death of Parents - Terrorist Attack' With an old newspaper article stamped below it.
"A total of 407 people died in an accident in one of the biggest train stations in New York City. The tragedy happened inside the train K98P71 from one of Chicago's east train stations. It was originally headed south towards the border but the driver was shot. The killer controlled the vehicle towards another station inside New York City as the train exploded, engulfing hundreds of more people on the place. NYC Police Department founds dozens of A7 bomb shrapnel in the scene as the incident was then declared as one of the biggest terrorist attack of the decade, the "K98P71 Tragedy…"
Hundreds of deceased names can be seen, including Harrison Larkin and Diane Larkin, Kyle's parents.
'This was printed 18 years ago, no wonder the kid has a serious atmosphere…'
Johnson looked at Kyle as his eyes hold sympathy. As someone who also lost his parents at the tender age of 5, he felt a sense of pity at this kid in front of him, though the feeling vanished almost in an instant, as his piercing gaze that feels like it can see every inch of your soul swept across Kyle's face, but when their eyes met…
"ACK! Thud."
Lieutenant shrieked as he stumbled at his seat and knocked on the ground.
"Clack! Swoosh! Click!"
Almost simultaneous with the fall. 3 soldiers opened the door, get in position, pulled their pistols, unlocked the safety pin, then aimed it at Kyle's head. Edward also did the same, albeit delayed, but when he saw the Lieutenant's state he pulled back his gun as he helped him up. Kyle could not do anything as his hands are still cuffed so he just glared at the Lieutenant.
"It's your fault for being rude, ask for permission first before looking." He said.
The closest soldier got angry by Kyle's rude remark as he advanced a step, ready to fire his gun.
"Do not shoot!"
Everyone looked at the Lieutenant. His right hand raised, covering his right eye while his left eye was emanating a weak blue light. His face was pale as a sheet as blood continues to drip from his red nose.
"Put him back to his cell, the two of you guard him then wait for my further commands, that's all, dismissed!"
The 3 saluted as they dragged Kyle back to his cell…
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{"What need is there to weep over parts of life when the whole of it calls for tears."
-Seleca}
In an old chapel decorated with catholic symbols and fancy embroidery. Three caskets of varying sizes stood at the front as dozens of people at each row stood from their seats singing…
"Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad~
Other things just make you swear and curse
When you're chewing on life's gristle~
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best
And~
~Always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the light side of life~" (Lyrics from "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" song by Monti Python)
A guy wearing a blue sweatshirt and pink pants stopped at the entrance of the chapel as he reads the sign in front. He has lean muscles and lean posture, though it couldn't hide his above average height, standing 6'3 foot.
"In the loving memory of Brandon Marshall and both of his sons Derick Marshall and Carl Marshall." The funeral wake was from the landowner's relatives and his divorced wife.
"Boriiiing."
As he said that he kicked the sign horizontally. It soars through the air hitting one man straight on the nape of his neck as he dropped headfirst to the ground, unlucky death. The singing stopped as the crowd wearing black clothing got the shock of their lives, they looked at the back as they saw a man with a distasteful sense of fashion.
"Oops! Sorry, I didn't mean that hehe."
"What the f*ck are yo-"
A big man on the side shouted.
"Fwiiiieet! Bang!"
A high-pitched whistle thundered inside the chapel as the big man thrust the chapel walls like a fly swatted by a swatter.
"I already said I'm sorry!"
The shout became the indicator for the massacre as whistle after whistle followed by bodies flying painted the chapel.
10 minutes later the man exited the chapel exactly how he entered it, clean and comfortable. He took his phone and called someone.
"What, is it done?"
A deep voice can be heard from the speaker.
"Yep. I've done it as clean as possible."
As he gazed at the crumbling chapel with 40+ bodies lying around the corner.
"Good, how is it?"
"Positive, the eyes are black… There's no mistaking it, it's them."
He spoke, agitation obvious in his voice.
"…Well shit… Come back here quickly 'seven' wants to see you…"
The voice paused for a moment.
"And make sure there's no witness."
Followed with a serious tone.
"Alright. Roger, roger."
He said excitedly.
"Beep-"
The call ended. The guy looked at the vicinity, gazing at every corner of the empty space. Luckily the chapel was located in an old park with daily visitors close to zero.
Confirming there's no one around he flicked his finger thrice as he runs away from the vicinity, unaware of the existence of a 'panda' hidden beneath one of the bush. With the sweatshirt man gone, the 'panda' watched as the people inside the chapel stand sluggishly, their eyes devoid of emotions, and skins burning when hit by the sunlight. Every one of 'them' stumbled to their feet towards the 3 caskets. They hugged the caskets forming a dome-shaped lump of flesh around it, as they stayed still like that forever(?). The panda dashed towards the exit of the park, terrified by what she just witnessed…