Pandemic
George Heller stepped into the bar, mumbling to himself incoherently. A woman walked up to him. "Sir, are you okay?" she asked.
Trying to balance himself, he grabbed onto the woman's abdomen, accidentally scratching her in the process. "You son of a bitch!" she yelled and slapped him.
Angry and ill, he walked out of the building and drove to his apartment. An hour later, he was dead, his arms and legs shriveled until they had almost disappeared.
Police found him when he hadn't gone to work in over a week. They quickly discovered that he had been a part of a biological weapon program, and that he had accidentally set free the virus. They decided to withhold the information from the public. Surely, he hadn't infected anyone else. He couldn't have.
Trying to balance himself, he grabbed onto the woman's abdomen, accidentally scratching her in the process. "You son of a bitch!" she yelled and slapped him.
Angry and ill, he walked out of the building and drove to his apartment. An hour later, he was dead, his arms and legs shriveled until they had almost disappeared.
Police found him when he hadn't gone to work in over a week. They quickly discovered that he had been a part of a biological weapon program, and that he had accidentally set free the virus. They decided to withhold the information from the public. Surely, he hadn't infected anyone else. He couldn't have.