Rowen Ashworth was blind and deaf.
At least, that’s how she felt at the club. All of her senses were muffled by the blaring music, flashing lights, and writhing bodies all around her. It was overwhelming, but she loved every minute of it. The club was a place where she could escape from her regular life and just let go; let go of the stress of her job; let go of the pain of her recently deceased grandmother (well, her adoptive mother’s mother); let go of the bitterness of her breakup with Luke; let go of everything.
Deep inside, she knew the freedom she felt at the club wasn’t real, but she enjoyed it nevertheless. Besides, not all of it was superficial. She had made some good friends here over the past two years, friends who were in the same boat as she was: Trying to get away from their problems with wild parties and late night fun. Of course, Rowen didn’t go quite as far as some of them did. She never drank herself into oblivion or used drugs, and she never slipped off into the night with strange men. She had too much self respect for those kinds of idiotic ventures. Instead, she made sure to stay sober and keep her flirting within the walls of the club.
Tonight, she sat at the bar, sipping a martini—the only drink she would be having—and watching the other people dance and flirt in the ever-changing lowlights of the club. She wanted to join them, but she had to be at the police station early the next morning and didn’t want to be completely exhausted when she got there. In her line of work, sleep deprivation could be a career killer, and she was hoping to soon get promoted to be a real interrogator instead of just a simple intern. She couldn’t afford to screw up now.
Rowen took her phone out of her purse to check the time. It was already 11:30PM. She frowned, swirling the remnants of the drink in her glass sadly. If she wanted to be home and in bed by midnight, she had to leave now. She sighed and downed the rest of the martini, then tossed the strap of her purse over her shoulder and headed out. She hadn’t had much time to escape this time, but it was better than nothing.
--
…Doctors still don’t know what’s causing the outbreak, but they believe it originated in—
Rowen hit the snooze on her alarm clock, cutting off the morning radio host’s voice. She groaned and squinted at the digital clock face. It was 7:00AM, so she only had an hour before she had to be at the police station. She rolled out of bed and threw on a blue blouse and a pair of dress pants—fortunately she had prepared her outfit the day before, so she didn’t have to think about it in her morning haze—and shuffled into the bathroom to get ready.
Once her hair was brushed and she looked presentable, Rowen walked down the hallway to the kitchen, where her adoptive mother was serving her twin brothers eggs for breakfast. Okay, yes, she was 22 and still living with her parents, but she was also a debt-riddled college graduate living on the salary of an intern. She had plans to move out on her own, but she had to wait until she had a more stable career; something that, with a little luck, wouldn’t too much farther down the road.
“Morning,” Rowen stifled a yawn and sat down with her brothers at the table.
“Think it’s real?” one of the twins, Rory, asked, completely ignoring his sister’s greeting.
“Nah, can’t be,” the other twin, Casey, replied, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“What can’t be real?” Rowen inquired. She casually filled an empty plate with eggs for herself.
“This new deadly virus they’re talking about,” Rory gestured at the TV screen, which displayed an image of the anchorman for the local news.
“They’re saying it makes people go crazy,” Casey added. “The media’ll do anything to rile up its audience these days. I mean, come on. I believe there’s a disease, but it’s probably more like Ebola. People don’t lose their minds from sickness.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Rowen shrugged. “I can imagine it. I work with people who suffer from psychological disorders, after all. There are all sorts of causes for someone to go crazy.”
“Not like this,” Casey shook his head. He drew his phone from his pocket and searched a video, then handed it over to his sister to look at. “Check this out. I think it was faked, but Rory is convinced this is the real deal.”
Rowen took the phone from him and watched the video play out. The audio was loud and confusing, but after listening for a few seconds, she realized it was the sound of a number of people shouting in Chinese. They were surrounding one man, keeping him at bay with long, wooden rods. The man was making screeching noises unlike any creature she had ever heard and trying to charge at the the men with the rods. Spittle flew from his open mouth and his bloodshot eyes darted back and forth like a cornered animal. Rowen grimaced at the sight, “He looks like a rabid dog.”
“I know!” Casey threw his hands up and took his phone back. “They’re saying the virus did that to him, but I think these guys staged the video to freak people out. There isn’t any proof that this is real anyway.”
“But what if it is?” Rory interjected nervously. “I know it’s way far away in China, but still… this virus thing is pretty freaky.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Ror,” Rowen said, finishing the last of her eggs and getting up from the table. “If it’s fake, there’s nothing to be afraid of, and even if it is real, I’m sure they’ll find a cure for it soon enough. Our medical field is so advanced it should take no time at all. Anyway, I’ve gotta run. I’m supposed to be at the station in ten minutes. You two behave, and I’ll be home soon.”
“Have a good day, Ro,” her mother kissed her on the cheek as she dropped off her dishes in the sink. “Don’t work too hard.”
“I’ll try,” Rowen rolled her eyes. She grabbed her briefcase for work and walked out to her car. When she turned on the ignition, she cursed. The needle for her gas gauge was on E. She must have been too tired the night before to notice the yellow light on her dashboard signaling that she needed to refill her tank. “Looks like I’m gonna be late…” she muttered, backing out of the driveway and heading to the nearest gas station.
At least, that’s how she felt at the club. All of her senses were muffled by the blaring music, flashing lights, and writhing bodies all around her. It was overwhelming, but she loved every minute of it. The club was a place where she could escape from her regular life and just let go; let go of the stress of her job; let go of the pain of her recently deceased grandmother (well, her adoptive mother’s mother); let go of the bitterness of her breakup with Luke; let go of everything.
Deep inside, she knew the freedom she felt at the club wasn’t real, but she enjoyed it nevertheless. Besides, not all of it was superficial. She had made some good friends here over the past two years, friends who were in the same boat as she was: Trying to get away from their problems with wild parties and late night fun. Of course, Rowen didn’t go quite as far as some of them did. She never drank herself into oblivion or used drugs, and she never slipped off into the night with strange men. She had too much self respect for those kinds of idiotic ventures. Instead, she made sure to stay sober and keep her flirting within the walls of the club.
Tonight, she sat at the bar, sipping a martini—the only drink she would be having—and watching the other people dance and flirt in the ever-changing lowlights of the club. She wanted to join them, but she had to be at the police station early the next morning and didn’t want to be completely exhausted when she got there. In her line of work, sleep deprivation could be a career killer, and she was hoping to soon get promoted to be a real interrogator instead of just a simple intern. She couldn’t afford to screw up now.
Rowen took her phone out of her purse to check the time. It was already 11:30PM. She frowned, swirling the remnants of the drink in her glass sadly. If she wanted to be home and in bed by midnight, she had to leave now. She sighed and downed the rest of the martini, then tossed the strap of her purse over her shoulder and headed out. She hadn’t had much time to escape this time, but it was better than nothing.
--
…Doctors still don’t know what’s causing the outbreak, but they believe it originated in—
Rowen hit the snooze on her alarm clock, cutting off the morning radio host’s voice. She groaned and squinted at the digital clock face. It was 7:00AM, so she only had an hour before she had to be at the police station. She rolled out of bed and threw on a blue blouse and a pair of dress pants—fortunately she had prepared her outfit the day before, so she didn’t have to think about it in her morning haze—and shuffled into the bathroom to get ready.
Once her hair was brushed and she looked presentable, Rowen walked down the hallway to the kitchen, where her adoptive mother was serving her twin brothers eggs for breakfast. Okay, yes, she was 22 and still living with her parents, but she was also a debt-riddled college graduate living on the salary of an intern. She had plans to move out on her own, but she had to wait until she had a more stable career; something that, with a little luck, wouldn’t too much farther down the road.
“Morning,” Rowen stifled a yawn and sat down with her brothers at the table.
“Think it’s real?” one of the twins, Rory, asked, completely ignoring his sister’s greeting.
“Nah, can’t be,” the other twin, Casey, replied, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“What can’t be real?” Rowen inquired. She casually filled an empty plate with eggs for herself.
“This new deadly virus they’re talking about,” Rory gestured at the TV screen, which displayed an image of the anchorman for the local news.
“They’re saying it makes people go crazy,” Casey added. “The media’ll do anything to rile up its audience these days. I mean, come on. I believe there’s a disease, but it’s probably more like Ebola. People don’t lose their minds from sickness.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Rowen shrugged. “I can imagine it. I work with people who suffer from psychological disorders, after all. There are all sorts of causes for someone to go crazy.”
“Not like this,” Casey shook his head. He drew his phone from his pocket and searched a video, then handed it over to his sister to look at. “Check this out. I think it was faked, but Rory is convinced this is the real deal.”
Rowen took the phone from him and watched the video play out. The audio was loud and confusing, but after listening for a few seconds, she realized it was the sound of a number of people shouting in Chinese. They were surrounding one man, keeping him at bay with long, wooden rods. The man was making screeching noises unlike any creature she had ever heard and trying to charge at the the men with the rods. Spittle flew from his open mouth and his bloodshot eyes darted back and forth like a cornered animal. Rowen grimaced at the sight, “He looks like a rabid dog.”
“I know!” Casey threw his hands up and took his phone back. “They’re saying the virus did that to him, but I think these guys staged the video to freak people out. There isn’t any proof that this is real anyway.”
“But what if it is?” Rory interjected nervously. “I know it’s way far away in China, but still… this virus thing is pretty freaky.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Ror,” Rowen said, finishing the last of her eggs and getting up from the table. “If it’s fake, there’s nothing to be afraid of, and even if it is real, I’m sure they’ll find a cure for it soon enough. Our medical field is so advanced it should take no time at all. Anyway, I’ve gotta run. I’m supposed to be at the station in ten minutes. You two behave, and I’ll be home soon.”
“Have a good day, Ro,” her mother kissed her on the cheek as she dropped off her dishes in the sink. “Don’t work too hard.”
“I’ll try,” Rowen rolled her eyes. She grabbed her briefcase for work and walked out to her car. When she turned on the ignition, she cursed. The needle for her gas gauge was on E. She must have been too tired the night before to notice the yellow light on her dashboard signaling that she needed to refill her tank. “Looks like I’m gonna be late…” she muttered, backing out of the driveway and heading to the nearest gas station.