A/N: This chapter establishes all the facts you need to know in this "universe."
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Day 2

Sleep doesn't come, leaving me with my thoughts and cable TV.

There isn't much that makes sense right now. Why would a person be dead in a research facility? How did things suddenly go so wrong? Did the scientists have no compassion? Why would they risk their lives as well as ours to help find a cure, only to run away and leave us to die? Surely there have been some kind of progress with the drugs they've been injecting us each morning.

A knock on my door snaps me out of my reverie. The blonde girl I fell into in the corridor is standing timidly by the open door. I'm starting to wonder if wishing for the door to open was a good thing or not. Since the door is manually opened from an unknown location, it'll remain that way until we find it.

"Hi, I'm Charlie. All of us are awake so..." She shifts her weight to her other foot.

"Yeah, I'm coming," I tell her. After a second thought, I add, "How're you doing? Finding a dead body can't be easy for anyone."

"I'm fine," she lies. I decide not to push her on it and follow her down the corridor.

When we step out of my room, I flinch, surprised to see light-pink smeared handprints along the wall. My stomach turns as I remember using the wall for support after seeing the dead body.

I'm guessing Jared had tried to clean it off as best he could, but there's only so much one person could do. I immediately feel gratefulness for the guy.

Leaving the darkness of the third floor and stepping into the light of the common room on the second, I feel somewhat at ease. Everyone is dispersed and seemingly in the same place, so I stand by the wall like I did earlier.

Jared, sitting on the right side of the wall, stands up when I walk in. "Okay. I'm thinking two people have to take each floor on either side and search for whatever can help. Food is our priority. This place is in the middle of nowhere, they'd have to be stocking up somewhere. Sounds good?"

Everyone looks between each other, but no one volunteers.

"Wait," I say slowly. "Why don't we get to know each other a little first? Can we all tell each other why we're here?" Paranoia or not, I need to at least eliminate a few people that could potentially be murderers. Hopefully through the answers, it could raise some red flags.

"How is that going to feed us?" Someone asks.

"I get what you mean," Jared says, leaning forward with mild interest. "We need to establish some kind of trust and friendship if we're going to work together. I'll go first." I plaster a smile at him. He gives me a small nod before continuing. "I'm Jared. I need the money to help my girlfriend. She's infected and of course the hospital is asking for a ridiculous amount to treat her. $10,000 is way more money than what's normal for a clinical trial, so I took the opportunity."

"Okay," I nod. I can tell a few people are impressed by his statement and possibly frowning upon their own. "I'm Kiana. I'm here because I need the money. My brother and I are running behind on rent and he was willing to sacrifice me." A few people let out nervous laughters.

After the pandemic of the corona virus dwindled down to thirty infected people, the world became more hopeful that civilization could start all over again. However, it became a lot more complicated that that. Although the world had come a long way with almost twenty million casualties over the course of three years, the virus had time to mutate into something that was nearly impenetrable. It's been almost a year since the nationwide lockdown was lifted, and it's still hard to get rid of the mutated virus in those that still have it. Any medication that had helped others recover did nothing to the remaining victims.

People demanded that the infected should be gassed and killed off to save the rest of humanity. Others pleaded for more research. As the months dragged on without any progress, the number of people who demanded the quarantined victims be killed increased.

Protests ran rampant throughout the streets and people were harmed or killed as a result. Two months ago, The Scientific Advancement in Drug Engineering Research Lab, or better known as SADE Labs, stepped up to offer their services and asked America for volunteers to help find a cure. They had assured the public that the injections wouldn't harm the volunteers since it'll be a tiny and benign strain. Three weeks ago, the trials started and we're the first batch to be tested on.

Reasonably, there were hardly any volunteers, so it didn't take long at all to be accepted into the trials. I had little choice. A year before the 2019 outbreak, our father died of a heart attack and our mother drank herself to the grave because of it, leaving my younger brother and I to fend for ourselves. With the help of the government and distant relatives, I was able to go to college while my brother was able to start public high school. Although our cramped studio had pretty low rent compared to certain areas in Southern California, our money was dwindling quickly due to the outbreak and we couldn't bring ourselves to ask our distant relatives for such a large amount, since they were struggling themselves. SADE Labs were offering an impressive amount of $10,000 and I couldn't say no. It seemed worth it at the time for only a few risks, but being here now and all that have happened in the last twenty four hours, I'm not sure if it was being in such a terrifying predicament.

"I'm Brandon. Who wouldn't want ten thousand? I came for the money."

"I'm Charlie. The outbreak made me broke."

"I'm Tiana. Also want the money."

"Nick. I wanna make an investment with the money."

"I'm Elijah. I'm here for the money too." Most people were here solely for the money, although the reasons varied. None of it was helpful at all.

I chew on my lip, deep in thought, scanning everyone's face in hopes to find answers, as everyone does the same.

The few minutes of silence allows me to sort out everything we know. As someone who tends to overthinks, my paranoia is reaching impressive heights today.

"Something you have to say?" Elijah asks me with a raised brow when he catches me eyeing him.

I hesitate before shaking my head. The thought of sharing everything going on in my head right now makes me feel silly.

Elijah scoffs. "If you think you fucking cracked some code, you should tell us. Huh, Jared?"

Jared shrugs before looking at me expectantly, as do everyone else. I release a breath. "I have a theory, but hear me out first," I start, splaying my hands up. "I think... I think one of us killed that guy, not the scientists. I've heard the mutated version of the virus makes you go psychotic. Someone here could be a murderer and you're suggesting we split up and leave ourselves vulnerable? I won't do it."

The psychotic symptoms were only rumors, but rumors start for a reason.

"That's absurd," Charlie says with a shake of her head. Others glance towards each other, testing out the theory in their heads.

"It makes sense," I protest, dropping my hands to my sides. "There's no reasonable explanation for the scientists to kill someone and run. This murder was blunt and messy. Why would they do it like that if they could make it quiet and no one would ever know? They could infect all of us and we'd never realize until it was too late. Plus, how come the lights are busted? This place has state of the art equipments, so it's unlikely it's a malfunction. Which meant someone purposely broke the source of the lights, I don't know. What if the scientists were running away from us and trying to save themselves? The doors opened as soon as they were gone. It could mean that someone somehow escaped from their room, killed a guy, and when the scientists realized someone with the virus was running around loose, they ran away and shut us in. The killer opened the doors to pick us off one by one. The alarms were on, which would've warned other scientists to leave before they got infected."

Elijah blinks. "But-"

"On top of that, we were told that we'd either be injected with a mild sample of the virus or the placebo. We don't know how many people has the viral injection and how many has placebo. I personally have never felt any of the symptoms, but of course no one will believe me because that's what everyone would say. We don't know anything at all. I'm not splitting up. We either go together or we don't go at all." I cross my arms and lean against the wall.

The room is silent. Everyone is wild-eyed, trying to process everything I just said, and frankly I am too. Saying it makes this situation crazier than I could've imagined. Saying it makes me feel crazy. As if I'm living in the midst of a conspiracy. The only thing that have been spewing from my mouth the day before and today were paranoid accusations. Who would take that seriously?

"That's... fucking crazy," Nick says with a shake of his head. "It's reasonable, but crazy."

"We need to figure out who it is, then," Brandon says. His tanned face is tight with worry and his body is rigid against the couch.

I turn to the leader and brace myself enough to ask. "What did you do with the body?" There's no way I'm going anywhere near that.

"We dumped him into the disposal."

I swallow and try hard not to think too much about it.

"Okay," Jared says with a deflated sigh. "I'm going to ask questions based on the symptoms we know and you have to raise your hand as soon as I ask it. Anyone can ask their own questions as well, doesn't have to be me."

I had a mild case of fever last week. My heart beats hard against my throat, but I look around calmly to avoid anyone from noticing. There's no way I have the viral injection. I feel as if I'd know. Besides, showing one of the symptoms was a far-fetch.

"Does it matter?" Tiana asks. "The virus has mutated and last I heard, there's new symptoms. No one really knows what they are, except maybe the thirty people still infected."

"Okay, fine," Jared says. "Anyone has a suspect? A question to ask?"

"What if you're the killer?" Brandon asks me with narrowed eyes. "You had blood all over you."

"I bumped into Charlie and fell," I answer with a leveled voice. If I panic, no one will believe me. "She's the one who found the body first." Better point fingers at someone other than myself. "Besides, she said she was fine when I asked about seeing the dead body. Who says that?" She had obviously been lying when she said it, but I say it nonetheless.

Everyone turns to Charlie who shoots up from the arm of the sofa. "Woah, I'm not a killer. I heard alarms and as soon as the doors opened, I ran out. I swear I didn't do anything."

"She's right," Nick says. "She didn't have blood on her body."

"Did anyone check how he died?" Tiana asks.

"He was stabbed in the neck. There was a syringe in his throat."

I unconsciously put a hand against my neck and release a breath I hadn't realize I've been holding.

Others make their baseless accusations until the point that it starts to get ridiculous.

Jared sighs. "This isn't going anywhere. I'll go look for whatever can help. I'll be back in ten minutes and we can rotate or something." He doesn't wait for an answer as he leaves the common area.

Brandon stares at me for a moment. "I'm not a murderer," I say calmly through gritted teeth.

Nick nods, his dark hair falling onto his forehead. "She's the one who brought up this whole theory. It can't be her."

"Or maybe," Brandon suggests, his eyes never leaving mine. "That's what she wants you to think."

I frown at him, about to defend myself when Tiana cuts in. "Okay, this is getting ridiculous. I could be the killer, for God's sake. There's no way to tell. No proof. No eyes."

"Wait..." Nick says. "How about the cameras?"

She shakes her head. "There's a monitor at the reception downstairs, but it's only showing real time. Elijah and I checked. There's no way to rewind or anything like that."

I slide down to the floor, suddenly overwhelmed.

We sit in silence until Jared appears at the door, out of breath. "I found food and water. I'm gonna need help."

* * *

After a very long and heated discussion, five people agree to go together, though distancing themselves, and bring some of the food to the common area. Apparently all the foods are packaged goods stored in boxes or frozen foods stored in the freezer, located in the basement level.

Despite recent events, the smell of canned ravioli reminds me of my appetite.

There's clearly tension in the air, but some people manage to make small talk while eating. I feel restless after a few minutes of eating and stand up, the bottled water given to me half drunken on the table.

"I'm gonna explore the fourth floor," I offer. It's the only floor that hasn't been checked because the lights are off. "Charlie, come with me."

Brandon frowns. "Why her?"

"She's scared shitless," I reason. "Plus, I think I can handle her."

"What if you're planning to kill her?"

I pause and raise my brows in surprise. I hadn't thought of it the other way around. "Good question."

Jared cuts in. "How about you accompany them, Brandon? Stay more than six feet apart."

The freight elevator isn't working, so Brandon takes the lead up the stairs. The fourth floor is completely dark and he offers to hold the door to allow light in. After a few minutes, Charlie finds some flashlights in a storage closet and rolls one to each of us, placing a box of it against the wall by the stair door.

It isn't until I shine the light that I realize how desperate the scientists were trying to leave. Papers are on the floor, dispersed at random spots, and some rooms are left wide open. It's as horrifying as it comes, walking through a dark corridor with a flashlight.

"Do you think the dead person will haunt us?" Charlie whispers. The light emitting from her flashlight is shaking.

"Ghosts have to be real for that to happen," I mutter.

"I think they're real."

I scoff. "Well they won't be haunting me. I didn't kill the guy." Nonetheless, the thought of a murdered man having a post-psychotic crisis makes me nervous. I wonder what'll happen to his body in a few days, and if we'll smell its progress.

The rooms are mostly office rooms or storage closets. Some occupy cleaning supplies, office supplies, and many store medical equipment in new, unopened packaging.

"Be careful," Brandon whispers. I turn around to see him alone. Charlie must still be searching the other side of the corridor.

"Why do you care?" I mutter in annoyance.

"I'm sorry about earlier, it's nothing personal. I would say I'm paranoid as well, but you definitely top the cake."

"I thought my theory was on the right track," I defend.

"Let's hope you're wrong for the sake of all of us."

I walk closer to the end of a hallway on the far right, where there's a grey door without a handle. To the right of it, there's a glowing keypad protruding from the wall.

I walk closer for a better look and instantly regret it. The pungent smell of rotten eggs and something unidentifiable hits my nose and I stumble back, gagging on the floor.

After crawling a few feet away from the door, I harshly whisper, "Brandon!"

Silence.

I stand up slowly and purposefully move away from the smell. "Brandon? Charlie?"

Nothing.

My stomach drops and I decide to ditch for the stairs. The flashlights by the door are gone, but I hardly pay attention as I open the stair door.

A door behind me suddenly opens and slams against the wall. I let out a bloodcurdling scream, my feet frozen in place.

Brandon screams back in response before realizing his mistake. "Shit. Sorry." He quickly looks around before his muscles visibly relax.

"Could you be any louder?" I yell, my heart beating hard against the bridge of my throat. I try to swallow past it to no avail.

"My bad. I was looking around the rooms. There's nothing."

"There's a door at the end that's password protected," I say breathlessly. "There's a disgusting smell coming from there."

I lead him back down the corridor and to the right. It isn't until he's standing close to the door that he makes a gagging noise and turns back. "Unless there's rotten food being harvested in there, there's definitely a dead body in there." His face twists with nausea.

A shiver passes through me. "This is just getting worse and worse."

He walks further away from the door. "Let's see what these say," he suggests, walking over to pick up the papers strewn across the floor.

We use the flashlight to gather up each of them around the corridor. Thankfully, the bottom of the papers are numbered, though the numbers are far in between, and there are about twenty pages in all. We sit on the floor about ten feet apart from each other and divide the papers to get through them quicker.

Most of it are scientific crap, statistics about the studies and the history of corona virus. It details how it took the lives of almost twenty million people and the suspected causes. My eyes wander to the end of page 8.

Over the years there has been many speculations of the origin of the virus. It had first appeared in China, but people are unaware of the fact that it originated

I search the next page, but it jumps from page 8 to page 14. "Do you have page 9 by any chance?"

He takes a second before shaking his head. "I've got 15." He rolls the paper and throws it to me. I scan the page, but the topic shifts to data analysis of the effects of the virus throughout the years in multiple countries.

"Dammit," I spit through gritted teeth. "These are useless."

Brandon doesn't answer. His face is scrunched up in confusion as he holds the paper closer to the light.

"What is it?"

His focus is trained on quickly scanning the paper, seemingly not hearing me. He finally speaks, his eyes large in horror. "You won't believe this."