It was odd hearing Mira's voice being so stilted. As his superior, Omar looked at Mira as a steadfast rock throughout his time in Lambour. Now, he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. It was both humbling and frightening at the same time to see her locked in the same straits that he was. His hands trembled as the growing pools of blood on the tiled floor felt like they were drowning him in their crimson glow. The hand that had fired the pistol still felt leaden, numb. The gunfire still rang in his head like a bell. 

Omar wordlessly nodded in response to Mira's command, heart still pounding and nerves still frayed from killing not just one but two people in the span of a day. His instructors told him that it was a statistical inevitability that he would have to take a life in his line of work. As soon as Mira walked out of the door, Omar felt as though a valve had been released. He hunched over onto his knees and his stomach somersaulted under the wave of nausea he had been forced to hold in. The sting of bile made him cough as he swallowed it down. His knees buckled under an immovable weight.

Then, the voice of a morbidly obese gas station owner broke him out of his self-induced reverie.

" Excuse me, senor. Would you like me to get you water -?"

" No, no," Omar waved his hand, coughing. He straightened his back and looked at the shopkeeper. " I'm fine. Just remember to follow my superior's instructions."

He then exits the shop, following closely behind Mira.

[hr]

Manuel Francocci considered himself a humble man. He had been divorced twice after his wife discovered him ‘cheating’ with his neighbour and his last wife left him for some argentinian pig. His only son left him to die in a war overseas in some sandbox. He was late on his tax. He’d been forced to mortgage his house. And now, two people had died in his humble convenience store that he had sold all of his life savings to build.

Truly, this was the culmination of bad luck. One could only wonder whether there was some way for him to avoid all of this misery and nonsense.

As he took out a mop and dipped in a bucket of water, he failed to notice the still corpse, head blown up, slowly begin to rise back up. It jerked shakily, arms spasming, before pulling itself up with renewed vigour.

When Mr Francocci turned to look back at the corpse, all he saw was a pool of blood followed by a frostbitten mouth jutting out with jagged crystals of ice. 

[hr]

“I’ll take the wheel,” Omar said as he slammed the boot closed and sidled up in the driver’s seat. It was a voice that brokered no discussion and no debate. He adjusted the rear view mirror to take a good look at himself. Even wit the blood wiped off his face, he could still see it, still feel it. Something greasy crawled on his skin that made him want to scratch it off.

The drive was silent on the way to the station. The streets were emptier now and the rain had intensified into a downpour. The roof of the cruiser sounded as though it was being pounded by a foreman. In the rear view, Omar could see the perp being restless in his seat, leaning back and forth. He tugged against his handcuffs for a moment and then, limply gave up on his efforts. He shuffled forward and craned his neck towards the cage that separated him from Mira and Omar. 

“ Hey, what the hells’got you two so spooked. You were chatty - “ 

“ Do us both a favor,” Omar interrupted, leaning back to look at the perp. “ And shut the fuck up.” 

Twenty minutes of near peaceful driving returned some warmth back into Omar’s hands. The sound of the round almost washed away his memories of killing two people today. In fact, all he could dread was the huge deluge of paperwork he would have to sift through to write the incident report. 

When the station came into view, Omar noticed two things that were wrong. 

Firstly, the western gate was left wide open. It was normally closed to prevent civilians from entering.

Secondly, a cruiser was parked at a slant angle to the entrance, the lights still flashing. 

“ What the hell….,” Omar parked the car a few feet away from the cruiser. The rain briefly calmed and he could make out a figure dressed in a service coat behind the truck. They weren’t moving towards them or making any sort of motion whatsoever. They were just standing still. 

“ Stay in the damn car,” Omar said to the perp. “ Mira, watch over him. I’ll check on what the hell’s going on.”  He stepped out, blinded by the shower of rain. He parted his arms through the dense thick rain as he stepped closer. He squinted and he could make out a tuft of ginger hair in the weather. 

“ Bromley? What’s going on. Bromley -,” The figure turned around and Omar swore out loud as he saw the same frigid blue eyes and gnashing teeth back at the gas station, only with a different face. 

“ Fuck, Mira! He’s turned into one of those fucking things!”