SOMETIMES CAMERON WISHED THAT SHE DIDN'T HAVE A PSYCHIATRIST FOR AN AUNTIE, that whenever something "traumatic" or "damaging" happened to her, she wouldn't have to sit in her mother's best friend's home office acting as though she were one of her patients. To tell the truth, she didn't want to answer questions like "how did that make you feel?" or "what made you do that?" She wanted to lay in her bed with the covers pulled over her head. She wanted to put in her earbuds and drown out the rest of the world with music. She wanted to forget about the stupid Barracuda Virus and losing one of her closest friends. But there she was, laying down in the uncomfortable reclining chair at nearly two o'clock in the afternoon because, instead of going out to celebrate the passing of the virus like every other teenager in the area, she was stuck reliving the experience.

Cam laid with her arms crossed over her stomach and her eyes closed, thinking that maybe if she pretended to fall asleep, her aunt Debra wouldn't barrage her with questions. She was almost sure that she was successful until she heard her aunt clear her throat and flip a page in her notepad. She was ready. "With all that you've experienced over the past few weeks, it all must have been very traumatic," Debra said, and Cam couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course it was traumatic. It wasn't everyday that you saw a dead body in a high school bathroom. It wasn't everyday that everyone in the city caught some fatal, incurable virus. It wasn't everyday that you lost your best friend. Still, Cameron shrugged her shoulders to show that she wasn't ignoring her, and Debra scribbled a few words in her notepad. "Maybe you can start at the beginning. Tell me everything that happened."

Another eye-roll.

The room remained silent for a few minutes before Cameron finally spoke. She knew that she wasn't going to get out of the uncomfortable position until she started to talk. "I was supposed to have a test in calculus that day," she said, shutting her eyes once more, "I actually studied for it a few weeks ago, you know. I never study, but I needed to get my grade up or else I wouldn't have been able to exempt my midterm exams."

"Cameron," her mother said from the opposite side of the room, but she kept going.

"I studied. I made flashcards. I memorized all of those equations only to be sent home right before we were supposed to take the test. Ain't that some bullshit?" Her eyes suddenly popped open and she glanced in her mother's direction. She had never said a curse word in front of any of her family members, even though they were aware that she had the mouth of a sailor. This was mostly out of respect; that and the fact that if she had said a bad word any other day, her mother would've slapped her silly. However, her mother looked unfazed by her foul language, so she closed her eyes again and continued. "If I would've known I was gonna end up skipping the test, I would have just stayed home. I could have gone to the mall or something, maybe even start some early Summer clothes shopping. But I did go to school that day, and I found a dead girl in the bathroom."

"How do you feel now?" Debra asked, and she scoffed.

"I really wish I could have taken that test."

Cameron answered the rest of her aunt's questions until her notepad was full with notes and scribbles. She couldn't help but wonder what Debra wrote down on the page, because not much she said seemed to be of any importance. She didn't give direct answers, so maybe that's what she wrote. Maybe she wrote that she was still in shock, which wouldn't be completely inaccurate.

She told Cameron that she was free to go when the clock struck three, so she gathered her things and headed out of the front doors and straight to the subway station. She didn't bother to wait for her mother. For the past week, the two had been practically glued at the hip, so she was eager to finally spend some time alone now that she'd gotten over the virus. All over the city people were finally mustering up the courage to step foot out into the world; shops and restaurants had reopened, school was due to open in another few weeks, and the subway was just as packed as it was the day before shit went down. Cameron sat in an empty seat on the subway, watching with a mixture of fascination and disgust as the older man sitting across from her picked at a scab on his elbow.

The first place Cameron went to after she got off the train was Grimaldi’s, ready to return to work. The pizza shop had been open for a little over two weeks, but Mr. Moretti had insisted on Cam staying home for another week to be sure that she'd gotten over the virus. Of course, she understood. That didn't mean that she had looked forward to another week of being her mother's patient. "buon pomeriggio," Cameron called to the Italian man as she walked through the front doors, "guess who's virus free?"

Mr. Moretti simply laughed at Cameron's pronunciation of the Italian greeting and tossed an apron her way. She caught it with ease, pulling off her jacket and tying the apron around her waist as she headed towards the back to wash her hands. "Ben tornato," the man said, "welcome back." Cameron got back to work immediately; she hadn't realized just how much she'd missed making pizzas in the sultry little pizzeria. Pretty soon, she was back in her usual groove. She'd forgotten all about the stupid Barracuda Virus and the toll it had taken. That is, until the bell above the entrance door rang, signaling a new customer.

"We'll be right with you," Cam yelled from the back, quickly wiping the flour from her hands and grabbing a fresh pad and pen. She hurried out of the kitchen and to the front counter, but nearly screamed when she saw who was waiting for her.

She looked the same exact same as the last time Cameron saw her: freshly done makeup, neatly braided hair, and a bright orange blouse that complemented her dark complexion. Zoya Williams leaned against the counter, her chin resting in the palm of her hand and her usual, cheeky grin plastered on her face. In her empty hand was a crumpled ten dollar bill, ready to be spent on her usual slice of Brooklyn Bridge pizza. Was Cameron finally losing her mind? Maybe this was the final stage of the virus. Insanity. Nonetheless, Cameron approached the counter with caution, blinking hard to be sure that her eyes were not deceiving her. Zoya laughed her silvery laugh at the young woman's facial expression, and Cam nearly fainted. "You're not supposed to be here," Cameron said as her best friend continued to laugh.

"Now, is that the proper way to greet your best friend?" Zo said with one last giggle.

"You're dead."

"Obviously not, if I'm standing right in front of you." Zo retorted. Cameron shook her head in disbelief, placing the empty pad and pen down on the counter before turning to grab her purse from the nearby table. She was officially losing her mind, and she needed to get away. "Where do you think you're going? I haven't ordered my pizza yet, Cammy," Zo said, and Cameron couldn't help but shiver at the sound of the old nickname. Still, she didn't turn back to face the other girl, instead focusing on putting on her jacket. "You can't ignore me forever, Cammy," Zoya said, but Cameron still would not face her.

"Please, just go away." Cameron said, raising her voice an octave and shutting her eyes, "I don't need this, Jesus. Not today." Cameron's eyes were shut for what seemed like forever before a familiar deep voice pulled her back to reality.

"Cosa sta succedendo," Mr. Moretti said as he came from the kitchen, "what's going on? Is everything alright, Cam? Your shift isn't over for another couple of hours." The young woman slowly reopened her eyes, taking a deep breath before turning back to the counter.

Zoya was gone.

Mason stared at the unlit fireplace with a blank expression on his face. It was old and showed a lot of use, but they hadn't had a fire yet, with all the boxes cluttered around. Probably wasn't very safe. It wasn't like the other fireplace back at his old home. The one where, as a child, they would light a fire on those cold winter nights and huddle around keeping warm, telling stories. Now only a quiet room remained of what had once been, and ironically, his old home had burned down. He didn't like to think about his old home much anymore. Or the memories of the old fireplace.

Next to him on the leather couch, in that cluttered living room, was a bag of Doritos that he occasionally would eat, and on the table in front of him was a glass of water. Doritos were his favorite chip but his appetite had alluded him for the longest time, he had been working on this particular bag for about a week now and it was only half empty. The water in the glass was half full, but it had been full about three hours ago. Or how ever long it had been since he sat down, there wasn't a clock in that room. And his phone... His phone was on silent upside down next to his glass of water. He should probably check it some time soon, but after the first time his sisters found him worried and afraid because he hadn't text them back, they had let it drop.

Ah his sisters. Ever since they had moved, and the insurance money had come in, they had started acting like proper adults. Mason supposed they had to, they probably didn't want to, but they had to. If not for themselves, then for him but most of the time he found himself not really caring. They had noticed of course, got him help from the doctors but he never took the medicine, and the therapist would never, could never, understand him. He never wanted to go, but at the same time he never told them that. Today he didn't have to go, but if he felt any relief he didn't show it. Mason didn't really feel anything besides numbness anymore, but that was okay. It was better then having to feel, he knew that. His sisters didn't know that either, but they wouldn't be home for a couple more hours. Both had gotten part-time jobs after the... after things went back to normal. Waiting for school and all, wanting to help pay for the new apartment and all that they lived in now. His grandparents on his mother's side sent money to them as well, they had came for the funerals but they owned a business in the Midwest that couldn't be shut down or given away anytime soon. While his sisters, even though it was painful, admitted they had wanted to stay in New York. it was home after all.

Mason went to grab his glass for a drink, but as he did he heard the door open. Which one of his sister's would it be? Was it even time for them to be home? He flipped his phone over and looked at the time, it was only two o'clock, it would be another two hours before either of his sister's got home. Then who had come in? He heard no footsteps, so he turned around slowly but saw nothing. Perhaps it had been nothing after all? probably just a neighbor he told himself, it was nothing to worry about after all. He turned his head back around and his brother stared back at him from across the table.

Mason froze up, Henry simply smiled at him. Mason didn't know what was going on, but he breathed slowly in and out. he closed his eyes,
then opened them again but Henry was still there smiling at him. "I'm dreaming aren't I?" Mason asked calmly.

Henry chuckled, "Nope. Sorry to burst your bubble baby bro."

Mason twitched, trying to gain some semblance of what was going on. He felt like he was going to breakdown, and cry but that wouldn't help anything. Now in a somewhat shaky voice mason asked, "How? If I'm awake, how are you here? You..." His voice choked, he couldn't say it. This was some messed up trick, had he taken medicine today?

"Died? Yeah I know. Just thought I'd pop out and say hello. It's not like you were doing anything today. Or any day for that matter."

Mason scowled subtly, it definitely sounded like his brother, even spoke like him. But he was gone now. This was all wrong. It was seriously starting to unravel him, he could feel it. Seeing his brother brought back memories and feelings he wanted nothing more then to suppress. They didn't need to exist, they couldn't exist.

"What? What do you mean pop out? This isn't possible."

"Now now Mace, who said anything about it being possible?" Then he heard the door open again and he looked away, this time Bridget's voice echoed down the hallway in a sing-song voice. "I'm home, And I brought your favorite, Grimaldi’s pepporni pizza!"

When Mason looked back, Henry was gone and he found himself slightly shocked. That had brought him close to feeling something, and he wasn't quite sure how to react. So he sat there motionless again as Bridget walked in. "Didn't you hear me Mace? It's pizza for dinner."

Mason looked at the fireplace. After a moment he said, "Awesome." In a flat voice. Unbeknownst to Mason, a tear fell down his sister's face as she walked away.

Running wasn't working.
Usually whenever she was stressed or trying to work something out running would help clear her head and give her focus but not this morning. This morning she just couldn't seem to find her rhythm and none of her normal running music made any difference, she just couldn't forget that damned dream last night. It had been so vivid, the colours sharp and the sounds crystal clear, that it had seemed truly real and even after waking it had taken her a few moments to realise she had been dreaming. The events in the dream had been fragmented making no sense in the light of day but seeming perfectly logical in the dream. It had centred around her time suffering from the Barracuda Virus and she had really believed she was dying all over again. She had once again been lying helpless in her sweat soaked bed surrounded by the smell of sickness. Too weak to move or even eat and plagued with delirium she had assumed she wasn't going to live through it and part of her hadn't wanted to. But by far the worse part of the dream had been the overwhelming sense of disappointment that didn't come from her but more surrounded her. She couldn't help but feel it had been her father and the idea that she might have disappointed him was almost more than she could bear.

Giving up on the run she walked back to the house and let herself in the back door. The kitchen was bright with the morning light and for a moment Tabitha told herself she was back in Scotland. Their kitchen there had faced east and so tey always got the first morning light there too. But the moment passed and she reminded herself once again that this was her life now, Brooklyn America not Edinburgh Scotland.

"Morning, how was your run?" Sandra Miller looked up from where she was sitting at the breakfast counter holding a steaming mug of coffee.

"Morning, it was ok." Although the relationship between Tabitha and her mother had greatly improved, thanks to her mother's care of her when she had been sick, Tabitha didn't feel comfortable telling her about her dream.

"Is everything okay with you?" Her mother asked watching her steadily. "I heard you crying last night."

Tabitha turned away from her mothers gaze, uncomfortable, and busied herself making a mug of tea. "I'm fine, it was just a bad dream. Honestly I'm good."

Her mother reached over and laid her hand on top of Tabitha's her hand warm and soft. "Alright but you know you can talk to me right?"

Tabitha gently squeezed her mothers hand and smiled. "I know I can. I promise I'm fine."

Her mother removed her hand and smiled back clearly deciding to let the subject go for which Tabitha was grateful. Things had been very different when she had first arrived. Her mother had been a stranger to her and didn't seem to want her estranged daughter around at all. They had been distant and awkward with each other and Tabitha knew some of that had been her fault, she hadn't wanted to move thousands of miles from home and live with a woman who had shown no interest in her before this. She had just lost her father and didn't want to try and get to know this woman or show her the grief she felt. The virus had changed all that and it was the one good thing to come of the tragedy as far as she was concerned. She and her mother had finally formed a connection, her mother tirelessly looking after her and then being there when the grief became too much to hide. They still had a long way to go yet but the two of them now wanted to form a stronger relationship.

"So any plans for today?" Her mother asked.

Tabitha shrugged. "Not really. Why?"

Her mother grinned. "Well I happen to have the day off work and I wondered if you'd like to help me finally decorate your room?"

They spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon up in Tabitha's bedroom, which had been a spare room previously, painting the walls and it turned out to be surprisingly fun for both of them. As much paint ended up on each other as went on the walls but neither of them cared. They spent the time just chatting, talking about their favourite tv shows or laughing about stories her mother told her about her work. It was relaxed and fun and Tabitha's natural cheerful nature began to reassert it'self once again, she was not by nature a serious or brooding person and she couldn't help but enjoy the time. Once the walls were done and they had both showered and changed they decided food was in order. Sandra suggested pizza and offered to take her to the local pizza place which apparently made the best pizza's around, and thirty minutes later they were pulling into the car park.

A bell rang as her mother pushed the door open and Tabitha jumped in surprise before laughing quietly at her own jumpiness. She followed her mother to the front counter where a dark haired young woman and an older man stood. Tabitha was glancing at the menu's above the counter when she felt a tap on her shoulder, she turned and only just managed not to scream. She bit down on her lower lip as she stared at the man who had appeared behind her. It wasn't possible...it just wasn't possible.

"Daddy?" She whispered her voice childlike in her shock

The man looked at her for a long moment without speaking before he finally nodded and said."It's me."

"But...you died, back in Scotland. You can't be here. How are you here?"

"Does it matter? Besides, you wanted to be with me again didn't you?" He looked sad. "I know what you were thinking."

Tabitha felt faint, how could he be here? and how could he know that? She hadn't told anyone not even her mother. A very large part of her had wanted to die when she became sick, not because of the pain of the virus but because she simply didn't think she could go on without her father. She still felt like that some days but not as many thanks to her mother. She wondered then if he truly was disappointed in her like she had dreamed last night. Had he come here to tell her that? That he couldn't believe she would even consider something like that? Or maybe he understood and had come to tell her it was ok.

"Daddy I..." She was interrupted then by her mothers voice and she quickly turned back to face her.

"Are you okay hon?" Her mother asked concerned.

Tabitha looked behind her again but her father was gone, if he had ever been there at all. Either she was seeing things or being haunted and both options were pretty scary to think about. She forced a smile. "I'm fine, my mind just wandered."

"I was asking what you were having?" Her mother said.

"Ummmm." Food was the last thing she wanted now but she wasn't about to admit that. She addressed her mother and the woman behind the counter. "I have no idea what's good here. How about you surprise me?" She was unaware of it but the scottish lilt in her voice was stronger than it had been earlier.

Today just wasn’t a good day. The dream last night was so bizarre and weird that it did freak her out quite a bit although it was good to see Anton again, even it was just in her dreams. It seemed like even this was starting to become a rarity these days. Anna had lost her older brother to the virus, her brother succumbing to its lethal effects while she prevailed. She had awakened feeling like she had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and she couldn’t help but think about that strange, strange dream last night.

Dreams about Anton were one thing, but this one was different from the rest. In dreams where he was there, he usually didn’t talk, but in this one he did. Asking her about that movie they were supposed to see, but never managed to. Looking at the digital clock hanging on the wall, she saw that the date was none other than today. If her brother had lived, they’d gone ahead to the movies after school as planned.

But the virus changed all of that, and those plans were gone in the wind. Anna decided to go for a game of tennis to pass the time. Hopefully sweating it out in the court would help to get her mind back into order. Changing into her tennis attire, she grabbed her racket and started to head to where the chauffeur would pick up one of her tennis buddies before they headed to the court to play their game.

A couple of minutes later, Anna picked up Jenny and arrived at the court not more than ten minutes later. On the way, she thought her eyes were deceiving were when she saw what looked like Anton skating along on his skateboard beside the car. She’d thought that perhaps it had simply been a lookalike, but then the guy turned and flashed her a smile, and that chilled her to the bone, her visage turning her a ghastly white. She blinked, and the guy was gone, and Anna turned to the rear window, and true enough the guy was gone.

Jenny asked her if anything was wrong, but she simply brushed it off. “I’d thought that I saw someone I used to know out there. Maybe I saw someone else. God knows I’m helluva unhinged today. I’m hoping the game will get it out of my system.” The rest of the day went by without any issues, and Anna got the workout she wanted, sweating it out in the court. She was beginning to feel a whole lot of better and was taking a break on a bench while Jenny went to the toilet. Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Anna looked up and froze.

There Anton stood, grinning with that trademark grin of his. He spoke. “Why so surprised? Aren’t we supposed to catch that movie today? You haven’t forgotten about our plans, have you? Not after all my ranting?!” She replied, dumbfounded. “But you’re dead. All of us attended your funeral.” Her brother burst out into a laugh. “What do you mean I’m dead? I’m right here. How can I be dead? Is that some kind of joke? You were always terrible at jokes, Anna.” Jenny came back and woke her up from her stupor. “Earth to Anna. Hellooo? I heard you talking earlier. Who were you talking to?” The only answer Anna had for her friend was “Oh. no one. I think I was just talking to myself.”

---

---

A high pitched scream erupted, ringing through the house before being followed by the sound of glass breaking. What was probably considered alarming to most people was just another temper tantrum from the princess of the family. Felix Sr. had already left for work, with his wife out on the balcony with a cup of wine, chatting nonsense away with a guest from some party she had attended, gleefully ignoring her daughter despite her guest casting nervous looks towards the inside of the penthouse every once in a while. She assumed her daughter was upset at having come back from her vacation of de-stressing, as the unpleasant events as of late had an effect on her little girl.

Inside Felix Ashford Jr's bedroom was Felix and Daphne, a pair of polar opposite siblings who would probably make a very entertaining sitcom if they were ever recorded. At the moment Daphne was armed with a cellphone and a lamp, her eyes wide and filled with shock. She had thrown her hairbrush at her brother, who had ducked in time, but the brush had slammed into his mirror, shattering it.

"What is wrong with you?!" He yelled at her, completely irritated.

"Who the hell are you?!" Daphne screamed back, raising the lamp over her head.

Oh yeah, Daphne had been gone while Felix had been sick. It's not that he blamed her, as at first glance he looked very, very different than before, but for the love of all that was good in this world, she was severely overreacting. Hands outstretched before him, Felix cautiously approached her, bracing himself in case she decided to throw his lamp, too. "So much for 'unwinding' in Hawaii, you just got here and you're wrecking my room!"

Daphne peered at him, inspecting his face. "Felix? ...What the hell happened to you?" She asked, slowly lowering her weapons. "You scared the crap out of me, did you finally go to a decent dermatologist?"

Ignoring the insult, Felix glared at her. "That would be so much more plausible if I went into your room, you came in here, took one look at me, and started throwing shit everywhere!" He pointed out, annoyed.

"Excuse me for being concerned about my own safety!" She scoffed, slamming down his lamp onto his desk. "Is this 'cause of that thing you caught or whatever? Is it contagious?"

Right. Felix's eyes went to the medication near his bed at the mention of the virus. He was fine, but his mother had completely freaked out and threw money at the doctors to make sure he would recover. It wasn't entirely out of proportion, either, since many people had died from it. Still, he never did feel like himself, it was the oddest sensation that he couldn't quite explain. But he wasn't going to admit it, he had already been probed and poked at way too many times.

Taking in a breath, he decided that he needed to get away from his sister. Grabbing his jacket, he walked past her, striding through the living room and approaching the elevator. "Hey! Where are you going?" Daphne called as she chased him. "I just got back!"

"Yeah, and I think two weeks wasn't enough time for me to miss you," He grinned as he stepped in. She scowled at him as the doors closed, sending him down to the lobby. He put on his jacket as the doors opened, and he walked through the lobby and out onto the street. The air felt good on his face, though now that he was out, what would he do now? He looked around for a moment before his stomach decided that it was time to eat. A hop on the train and a short bus ride later, and he arrived at Grimaldi's. He spotted a mother and her daughter ahead of him and decided to wait behind them, rubbing his temples as a small headache decided to form.

Ever since the Barracuda Virus forcibly vacated her home of all life but her own, Grace had avoided sleeping in bed like a normal person in place of passing out on a blanket she spread on the floor of her room. For her part, there was never a particular reason for this; she simply no longer felt comfortable laying on the bed she slept, studied, and cried in for God knows how long. In truth, a great many things that her parents had bought to fill up their home had since become eyesores for Grace, painful reminders of a time that once had been and never would be. This perhaps explained why she chose to auction most of such things, resulting in a relatively empty penthouse. Spacious, lavish, yet unwelcoming. Cold.

Inside and out, hollow was the existence of Grace Sano.

Waking up in shambles, she looked at the clock-did waking up on time even matter to her anymore?-and drudged towards the bathroom. Her image upon the mirror was the next thing she laid eyes on. Grace looked at a naked miserable mess of a woman. Her bleached blonde hair was all over the place. A face of pure contempt reflected on the mirror, contempt at the weak mind that let her fall into such disarray. Sighing, she opened the door to the shower and walked in, turning on the water. These were one of the few pleasures she allowed herself to indulge.

Her body ready for reality, Grace exited the bathroom and went to find clothes for herself. She picked out a white sweater splattered with paint (it was plain white when she had bought it) and a pastel pink skirt. Her footwear would be nothing more than pink slippers, the bunny-eared variant. Simple yet undeniably cute, just the way she liked it. The routine called for more painting until noon further approached, but Grace had a bad feeling about today, and when she made way to the easel, she could clearly see why. Where there once had been a painting of the New York skyline now stood an abstract jumble of red and purple.

Stranger still, it moved.

Shimmering and twisting like an unnatural kaleidoscope, her eyes grew dizzy the more she attempted to make sense of it, but just as she brought herself to look away, the chaos gave way to two distinct shapes. Clearly human silhouettes, one male and the other female. At first, they were no more indiscernible than the chaos before them, but soon enough, Grace's eyes would widen in horror at what they showed themselves to be: images of her deceased parents.

The fact that she did not recoil and fall surprised her, but that also meant that she was still subject to this nightmarish...vision. There was absolutely no way this was real. She must still be dreaming, but then what was that shower...? Everything else before this felt as real as life can be...

So caught in her thoughts was Grace that she didn't realize that the images had become closer in the canvas, their unnaturally haggard faces now for her to see in much greater clarity, not that she ever asked for it. They reminded her of the notoriously morbid Black Paintings of Francisco Goya, imagery that invoked dread and sorrow. Except the fact that these images moved and appeared on their own invoked fear much more than anything else. The eldritch painting continued to shift and turn, now words forming above the heads of her parents, words Grace thought she had left behind when they were buried. "You failed us." "Worthless child." "Dead girl walking." The more she looked at the twisted letters, the worse the message they conveyed until finally they became but two words.

"Join us."

At once, Grace felt a gripping sensation on her left wrist. Furthering the nightmare, the gruesome image of what was supposed to be her mother escaped the realm of the canvas and reached out for her daughter. The line between imagery and reality began to blur in her frantic eyes and desperately, she grabbed one of the larger paintbrushes sitting in a can of red paint and slashed at the canvas like she was holding a sword. And then she swiped again. And again. And again until she could see nothing of her parents in that accursed canvas. By her own hand, Grace had returned to safe, grim reality, the eldritch painting nowhere to be found. It did, however, leave behind a better work than what she had left at night, the colors blending better for a more pleasing controlled chaos of paint.

Sadly, Grace was too shaken to appreciate what was in front of her, her heartbeat racing and panic still brewing in her mind. Finally, she fell and gripped at her hair as she confronted the gravity of what just happened. She was hallucinating. Her psyche was taking turn after turn for the worse. She had thought that she could be a better person when left to her own devices and now look at her. A daydreaming madwoman with no income and no relations. She screamed, but if a girl screamed and not a soul was around to hear it...

Did she ever make a sound?

---

Her pencil glided smoothly over the rough paper of the sketchpad as the world condensed to the lead tip and the song threading through her ears. Her foot lightly tapped to the beat, narrowly avoiding the wad of gum conveniently placed on the floor of the New Year subway car she was currently on. Kashi was attempting to drown out the panic and shock of earlier today with enough sensory inputs but she felt like she was probably failing. Her day had started normal enough, or as normal as life had become after the virus. She’d been at the community center, Manhattan Youth, with the kids. All the children who had lost a mother, a father or a sibling. And there she was, her family still intact, trying to offer comfort. She always felt guilty, walking into the center. Seeing the kids, desolate, while she lived. While her family was whole. And that’s why she thought maybe… Maybe that’s why she saw them. The… ghosts. Her pencil paused, the tip trembling in mid-air as she thought back to the first ghost she had seen.

It had started just as she’d gone to get the juice boxes for the kids. They were drawing, art therapy the child psychologist had called it. So she headed for the small kitchenette off the side of the main room to grab some refreshments and snacks. But then a light press of a hand stopped her in her tracks. No sounds had preceded it, simply the presence of a hand. “Thank you for looking after my baby,” a voice had whispered, paper thin. Kashi had darted a glance behind her and held back a gasp. The woman behind her appeared real, and if it was night, Kashi was certain she would have thought her normal. But with the sunlight glancing off the mirror in the corridor and piercing through the woman, Kashi could clearly see that the lady was not human. The colors were almost faded, and shimmered in the air.

And with a thin, almost shaky smile, the woman had disappeared. Not, dashed-around-the-corner or be-back-in-a-minute gone but blink-your-eye gone. She had simply melted back into the air! Heart racing, Kashi had backed against the wall in wonder. Glancing a both ends of the hallway Kashi had found nothing. It had been quiet, save for the bright clatter and soft mummering echoing from the main room. Calming her pounding heart, Kashi had bit her bottom lip, the taste of chemical strawberry seeping into her mouth. As the minutes ticked by with nothing of note happening, Kashi had detached herself from the wall she had been molded against and had taken cautious steps towards the kitchenette. And just as the Dementors had descended on Harry, a myriad of figures blinked into being. Soundlessly, the watched her as she had frozen once again. All around her were these wispy, life-like… ghosts. There was no other word for what she was seeing. I am going insane. It’s probably a delayed reaction to the virus. And I’m hallucinating. Inching her way to the kitchenette, she had watched the specters watch her.

Just as the doors of the kitchenette had come into view, Kashi had dashed straight in; slamming the doors behind her. Panting with the sheer terror of the moment, she had dug her hand into her silvery-blue hair and just lain limp against the door. She had lifted herself off the door, quickly turning the lock, before she had gathered all the necessary snacks the kids would need. It would do no good to freak the kids out. I mean, what would I say? ‘Hey kids! Remember your dead parents? Yeah I just saw them. Don’t worry though, they’re just ghosts.’ Hysterical laughter had bubbled in her chest as she had clutched the tray of snacks. Finally, she had turned back to the door, taken a deep breath and flicked the lock. She had creaked the door open, ducking her head past the door frame to glance into the corridor. Once again, nothing. “*Çfarë dreqin?” She had decided not to press her luck and she had dashed across the corridor and burst into the common room. As the day had gone on, Kashi had believed she had dreamed it all. Another one of her “flights of fancy” as Mrs. Peterson liked to say.

And now here she was. On the subway, with panic gripping her throat as she tried to rationalize the bizarre situation away. But just after she got off the subway and turned towards her brownstone house did once more stop dead in her tracks. Tommy was waving and shouting a greeting at her as she opened the gate to her house. “Tommy!” She stared at the little eight-year-old in wonder. “Oh Tommy,” was all she could think to say as her eyes brimmed with tears. “Hey! Why you crying Kash? Stop being weird and let’s play! Ma got me a new truck set and said that if I asked you reeeeeeeeal nice and ate my dinner then you’d play with me. I told her that she doesn’t know you and then I hid my broccoli because blech. Gross! But come on! Let’s go before she finds out. ” And with that he was off like a bullet fired from a gun. His curly brown hair bouncing as he dashed for the small garden the Krashniqis’ shared with the Prices’.

As she stared at him, as he turned back. His brow furrowed and his pout in full effect. “Why aren’t you coming? You’re weird today.” And just like that, he was gone. He blipped out of the sunlight and left Kashi with an ache in her heart. Tommy was the Price’s second-youngest. With so many of them spilling over, a lot of the Price children were found lounging in the Krashniqi’s house. And Kashi had gotten to know and love them all. But Tommy had been special. He was rambunctious and mischievous but was still very kind. And when he’d… when he had died it had broken everyone’s hearts. Most of all Kashi’s. Kashi hadn’t been able to say goodbye to the boy that had stuck to her tighter than velcro. And while the previous specters had left her a sense of bewilderment, seeing Tommy only left a bitter taste in her mouth.

---

* What the f*ck?

The sun’s rays peaked over the silent misty mountaintops of the west coast terrain, dawn had broke and the day had started for many young high schoolers like Thor. While he certainly wasn’t exorbitantly rich, he was still quite up there in the affluent neighborhood. While his parents lived in the main house, Thor’s residency took place in the backyard of his Brooklyn mansion. A small little house built in what lavish and spacious land they had that resided on the water and looked out at the city that never slept. To be honest it was impossible to tell if it was night time with all the superficial light that engulfed the cities skylines. As convenient as it was to be privileged, Thor never used it as a badge of pride, living in squalor and poverty would have been fine with him too. Maybe he would have been happier that way or rather truly happy. Whatever the reason, today was what felt like his first day attending his newest transfer school, ready to ‘carpe diem’ and tear up the track. Well so he hoped, but he knew the events that transpired had changed all that.

In any event, there was no use in dwelling so he continued on with his morning. Thor is a vessel for raw unirridated energy, there was no time of day where he was tired and if he was it only seemed like a passing train. His eyes ripping open he shot directly up from his comfortable king sized mattress to peer around his room. Light tore through his blinds as he got up minutes before his alarm was set. Jumping out of bed he moseyed on down to his record player in part by moon walking over. The dust protector came up, the red light flashed on and the record in hand was spun as he blew any residual dust off. This one, this one was a classic. Record on the tray as it began to spins in anticipation for the needle, a push of a lever and the arm was coming down ready to fill the air with sound. "I hear the drums echoing tonight” entranced by the sound of music, adrenaline shot up through Thor’s spine. Grabbing a stick of deodorant as a microphone and throwing on a pair of shades and a red dress shirt, Thor slid into the focus of his foyer on his rather slippery white socks.

Jumping around his living room space, he scaled his couch followed by his fire place mantle all before landing on his armchair in front of the TV. Unbeknownst to him, he had sat on the remote as he landed which promptly turned on the TV showing what was going on in the realm of news. The roar of his music seemed to die down almost instantaneously, the world around him was suffocated by silence. His attention was being sucked in by the muffled words of the news anchor. Time slowed as the recap of the Barracuda Virus had still been a hot topic. The banner at the bottom showed just how many had died and the fallout that ensued the whole epidemic. His heartbeat could be heard through his skin, the constant thumping accelerating just a bit more as his mind shot off electric synapses across his brain. It probably looked a lot like the city lights of the five boroughs, so active, so alive. His breathing slowed, soon the shallow sounds of his breath mixed with the beat of his heart. The only sound left was that of his own. Memories of him overcome with the virus seared through his mind, he was a prospective track and field student who had been getting along with his new school and making several friends.

So why the sudden twist of fate? Betwixt the chaos and trepidation, Thor seemed to escape the grip of death that the 300 or so others weren’t as lucky to come out of unscathed. His hands began to tremble, a feeling that Thor never experienced before, fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the unexplainable? This was a different level of fear that didn’t compare to being chase by a dog. It almost engulfed him when a voice pierced through it all and tethered him back to reality. "Thor honey, are you in there? You’re going to be late for work. I don’t think Mr. Moretti will be too pleased.” her voice sweet like honey with the subtle hint of motherly love. The news was clear and undistorted, his record player had reached the end of the record leaving only the sound of a skipping track, and the soft knocks on his front door were the only sound he heard. His hands were steady and his vitals seemed normal, whatever confusion existed was laid to rest. Turning off the TV, Thor vaulted over the side of his arm chair, "I almost forgot! I’ll be out in a minute!” Like a cyclone, Thor ripped through his dresser and his bathroom as he managed to get clothed and cleaned in one fell swoop.

Grabbing a piece of bread and smearing some semblance of peanut butter, Thor rushed out the door grabbing his back pack. His mother was still making her way back to the main house, he ran up alongside her before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, "Bye mom, I love you! I’ll be home later!” A soft smile formed on her lips, the innocence and youth she had given birth to was second to no one, but more importantly she was just happy her boy survived. A single tear escaping the side of her cheek.

Thor always used running as his preferred mode of transportation, there was never a dull moment with this boy and whatever social norms made it unacceptable to run places were shattered by this one kid. Thor was back in control, except that he was more than likely going to be late. His eyes were glued on his watch as they darted back and forth from his wrist to the busy streets of mindless zombies. Some of them liked to walk slow, others were engorged by their phones, while others simply stood in the middle of the sidewalk. Almost like Spider-Man, Thor moved nimbly through the streets, his converse shoes scuffed and marked with his tenured track record. Skittering along the edges and vaulting over fences through alleys, the gymnastic runner finally made his way onto the street where Grimaldi’s resided. If Phiddipides could run a marathon in 3 hours, Thor was going to make it to work in 15 minutes. Catching his breath, Thor made sure his appearance was up to snuff before walking in. The bell chimed signaling his arrival, but if that weren’t enough he made his presence known. Throwing his arms up, he looked around, "Are you not entertained?!” he said triumphantly.

Or so he thought. When he glanced over to his side he saw a blonde haired goddess, her eyes were a bright blue as cold as ice. And for a moment he could have sworn they froze his feet to the ground, why? Because he tripped over seemingly nothing and fell face first into the table adjacent to him. As he rolled over he knew he had to get her name.

Alec had been lucky enough to not be directly affected by the virus. Nobody in his family was affected, at least as far as he knew. He knew that it was all luck, and that he had to be grateful that his family came out unscathed. But, those thoughts were eating him up alive. He didn't like what it was doing to his mental health. The fact that any one of them could've just as easily succumbed to the virus and no longer be in his life was something that was going to haunt him. He tried to focus on the "what is" but he just couldn't stop thinking about the "what if", and quite frankly, it was eating him inside.

To try to distract him, he was reading up on background of this movie called "Black Panther". It was incredibly popular and it was catching momentum worldwide, especially among the African-American community. The cast was star-studded, and Alec was very happy with the cast save for one person. The problem was, for him at least, was his striking resemblance to one of the characters. He looked exactly like Killmonger with a weird haircut, and that was what weirded him out. Why did this dude look so much like him? Out all of the actors that exist in the world right now, they just had to pick the one that looked just like him. Alec didn't like it. It weirded him out, and when it actually came out, he wasn't going to hear the end of being called "Killmonger". Kill. Killed just like his family would've been if they caught the virus. If they got killed then he might as well have killed himself.

Too dark. It was eating at him again. Alec had to get out of his room and to somewhere where he didn't have enough silence to think. He needed noise, he needed distractions. He needed Grimaldi's. Pizza was good. If he didn't want to deal with his feelings then stuffing them away with food was a perfectly acceptable way to cope with these feelings. He got up and put on a jacket to make himself a little warmer. Novembers in this area were always a little chilly, especially for Alec who didn't really like the cold.

Emerging from his room, he slipped on his classic Nike Air Force 1 Breds and went on his way to Grimaldi's. All that was on his mind was pizza. He was weird, though. Apparently he was the only person who liked their pizza with pepperoni and sausage. It was such a basic combo yet so unpopular. Weird. Putting his hood on and stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, he made his way to the pizza shop at a brisk pace. The longer he had with himself the more likely he was going to descend down that spiral again, and he didn't want to be in that dark place. If only he had time to run. Running was going to help him cope for damn sure.

Pulling up to Grimaldi's, he opened the door and stepped inside. He saw a few friends nearby, which was nice. He went up to the counter and ordered the usual. Two slices of pepperoni and sausage with a bottle of Dr. Pepper. Taking a seat nearby, a blonde haired girl strolled in. He nodded his head to greet her before glancing back down at his phone. But, before long, another guy came in and made a scene as he arrived. Who was this guy? Was he a Logan Paul wanna-be? Watching him fall and make a fool of himself, he shook his head and scratched it. He damn sure was. But, he couldn't let this guy hang by himself. He got up and walked over to him, lightly kicking him on the leg before reaching a hand out to him.

"You okay there, bro? Looks like you had a tough fall there."

SOMETIMES CAMERON WISHED THAT SHE DIDN'T WORK AT GRIMALDI'S, that instead of securing the part-time position at the sultry little pizzeria, she'd have gotten a job at the bodega around the corner or maybe even one of those swanky clothing stores up by Prospect Heights. But eventually she would change her mind, realizing just how good she had it. Because when it really came down to it, Cameron would rather leave work every night smelling like Italian sausage and pizza sauce than work in retail. Even then, as she cut large slices of pizza and worked the cash register, she knew that it was much better than having to deal with rude ass, posh customers.

Her brief encounter with Zoya's ghost had freaked Cameron out, to say the very least. It had all seemed so real: the younger girl leaning against the counter, her chin resting in the palm of her hand and her usual, cheeky grin plastered on her face. In fact, it had freaked Cameron out so much that she had to step out back for a few moments to regain her composure. Mr. Moretti didn't question it; in fact, he'd taken over for her while she was gone, throwing another couple of pizzas into the brick oven and taking more orders. The moment she stepped back inside, however, he tossed her the apron once more and left her to her work. "I have some business to take care of, solo un po," the man said as he disappeared into the back, "You can handle things up here until Thor arrives, whenever he decides to make an appearance..."

So with that, the apron was back on and Cameron got back into her usual groove: taking orders, making pizzas, receiving money. It wasn't until an unfamiliar young woman with fiery red hair made an appearance at the counter that she said something other than, "may I take your order?" or "that will be fifteen dollars." Cameron raised an eyebrow when the young woman began to speak, slightly taken aback by her thick Scottish accent. "Ah, a newbie," Cameron said with a smirk, handing who she assumed to be the girl's mother the slice that she'd ordered. She looked the girl over once more before cutting another slice of pizza. "This is one of our best sellers, and also my personal favorite," Cameron said as she slid the pizza into the box and held it out to the girl, "Brooklyn Bridge. Topped with oven roasted red peppers, ricotta cheese, and Italian sausage. I'll even give it to you for half off, as a welcome gift. Welcome to Brooklyn." Cameron made a mental note to find out what she could about the new Scottish redhead when she clocked out.

Next in line was a pretty decent looking boy Cameron recognized from school, though she couldn't recall his name. She did know, however, that he was at least a year younger than her. Rather than strike up a conversation, Cam simply took the boy's order and money, handing him his pizza as soon as it came out of the oven. After him came Alec Sloane; Cameron grinned like an idiot as she handed him his two slices of pepperoni and sausage. Next up was a familiar face, someone Cameron had not seen since the virus struck Brooklyn. Ellie Duke entered through the door, the bell ringing as she said something about cheese pizza. Cameron simply shook her head and made sure that she had two slices of pepperoni pizza ready for the young basketball star before even taking her order.

"No need to settle, here's your usual," Cameron said as she handed over the warm box. "And don't worry about it," Cameron said when the girl tried to hand her the money, "I got you, girl. Sorry to hear about your pops. If you need anything, just hit me up, okay?" Although Cameron didn't speak to Ellie much in school, she did get to know a bit about her afterwards when the young woman would come into the pizzeria for her usual slice of pepperoni. It was absolutely devastating to hear that the virus had taken the life of her father. Before Cameron could open her mouth to say anything further, however, she was interrupted by none other than Thor Jorgensen making his "grand entrance."

Cameron couldn't help but roll her eyes as Thor tripped and fell face first into one of the tables. What an idiot. "Jorgensen, you're late. Stop fuckin' around and get to work before Mr. Moretti has your ass." Thor was one of the newer employees, and certainly not one of Cameron's favorites. He was friendly, sure. But soon Cameron came to realize just how careless and fast he really was. In her opinion, Mr. Moretti should have hired someone else. As soon as Alec helped the boy up, she threw an apron in his direction, purposely aiming for his face. "We didn't get any calls yet, so you're stuck making pizzas." Just as she finished speaking, however, her phone began to vibrate and chime in her back pocket, as did everyone else's. Cam, along with the rest of the teenagers in the area, pulled her phone from her pocket to see a brand new text message from an unknown number.

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It looked like getting pizza had been the right call for him. The place was quickly filling up, and Felix was thankful he had gotten there when he did as a line began to form. Of course, the line was nothing as someone decided to make their presence known. Staring at the commotion that was Thor Jergensen, Felix couldn't help but grin. It was quite the entrance, even if it was a little over the top. Taking his hands out of his pockets, Felix would give Thor a few claps before the line began to move, signifying his turn to order. Now that he had gotten a look around, he realized he actually recognized some of the faces around here. Well, not that he could match names except for maybe one or two.

Oh well, he wasn't exactly in the mood to socialize, he wanted to eat! After Felix thanked the cashier, he practically skipped to his seat, plopping down to eat. Rubbing his hands together, he heard a small chuckle, looking up to see Dylan Houser shaking his head at him, apparently having taken the seat opposite of him. Felix did a double take, letting out a groan as he covered his face with his hands.

"You had that same expression earlier," Dylan pointed out.

Felix was convinced he was going insane. When he had woken up earlier, he could have sworn he saw Dylan everywhere. His mother had told him it was just his grief getting the better of him, as losing his best friend was traumatic enough to make the eyes see what they didn't want to see. After that, he figured with time it would just go away, but right now, this was the last thing he wanted.

"Because seeing you means I'm going crazy," He muttered under his breath, annoyed.

Frowning, Dylan leaned forward in his seat. "No more acne, huh? Lucky you, you almost look handsome now!"

Scowling, Felix couldn't help but glare. "It's been a weird day, okay?" He whispered. "You keep popping out of nowhere, my face is so clean my own sister didn't recognize me, my back pain is gone--I don't need this from you."

Bridget had gotten home earlier then she usually did, and it hadn't occurred to her that it was closer to lunch then it was to dinner when she got home with pizza. Mason was still sitting on the couch, only getting up once to go to the bathroom in the two hours that his sister had been home. She was busy in the kitchen at first, then she moved up to her room. Only briefly stopping in to tell Mason that the pizza could be eaten at anytime and they would probably make something else if they were hungry later. Then she was gone, and Mason was left in silence like usual. Jamie wouldn't be home for another two hours at least, and who knew was Bridget was now doing.

It was after four when Mason looked at his phone, four-seventeen to be exact. He found his stomach growling, so he got up and went into the kitchen. It was a modern one, nothing fancy but they had all the appliances and space three orphans could want. Mason paused at the thought of being an orphan. He did miss his parents but they were... distant now. How sad was that?

"I'd say it's pretty fucking sad Mace."

Mason spun around, Henry had decided to join him again. This time his brother was leaning up against the counter, eating a slice of pizza. Mason twitched again, what was going on with him?

"I've gone crazy haven't I? This... This is wrong."

His brother chewed at his pizza, staring at him with an uncaring face. He swallowed then spoke, "Damn this is some good pizza."

Mason stared at Henry, watching his brother eat the pizza and it looked so real. But he knew it wasn't. It couldn't be real. He was dead, gone! Just like his parents! Just then his phone buzzed, someone texted him. He slowly brought it out of his pocket and looked at the unknown number. The text was an invite to a party? A celebration of life? What find of sick joke was that? They must have the wrong number. He began to type, but Henry's voice cut in and he stopped to look at him.

"A party huh? You should go, ya'know. Get off your lazy ass and do something with your life. Maybe even meet a girl? Oh that's right, you don't talk to girls. Do ya Mace? Nah, who am I kidding, you won't go." Henry smiled after that. Mace just tightened his grip on his phone, knuckles turning white. He could feel his anger rising, could feel his face twisting into a scowl. Could feel himself slipping, loosing control. He took a deep breath and relaxed his muscles, loosening his grip. Henry frowned.

"Fuck off Henry." Mace said unapologetically. "I'll go. Just to prove you wrong."

Henry simply smirked. The front door opened and Mason blinked, startled at the noise. Jamie proclaimed she was home but Henry was, of course, gone.

Mason looked at his the text he had written, and deleted it, putting his phone back into his pants. He then went and opened the pizza, which was untouched and took a slice. He ate it nimbly, thinking about what his dead brother had said. Did he really want to go? No of course not, but it might be good to show Jamie and Bridget he wasn't a complete couch potato. And of course, he wanted to prove Henry wrong. No matter how morbid it was.