A thick fog hangs over the city streets. Light pain patters down. The air is cold. The moon looms over London like a ginormous lamp. A hooded figure steps through the mazelike alley. He holds a steel cage containing a bundle of rats. His fingers twitch. A crooked smile on his face hidden beneath shadows. He begins to quietly hum to himself. Trash cans, bags and miscellaneous disposed furniture line the alleyway. The first corner is turned. Then the next. The figure moves with tenacity. He spent all day inside his apartment until recently venturing to the breeding lab to grab some rats for this occasion.

  Another corner he rounds. In front of him is a couple dumpsters in what appears to be a camp. Several tents are set up and a couple barrel fires still burn even in the rain. He used the smoke from the fires to mark his way-point. He rounds the last corner, looking down at the cage he holds. He gently runs his free hand on it.

  “We’re here, little ones. Time to set you free.” He mutters.

  While he’s looking to the cage, he feels something press against his chest getting his attention. He looks up to see the barrel of a gun and a figure holding their finger on the trigger. He gasps. Suddenly, three more armed figures emerge from the darkness. They all wear dark green army uniforms and gas masks. A single lamp hangs over them all. He is at a loss for words.

  “Drop it. Now.” The soldier in front speaks.

  The hooded figure drops the cage. Inside, the muffled panicked squeaks of it’s vermin passengers ring out. One of the soldiers swiftly grabs the cage. The soldier with his gun put to the hooded figures chest pulls his lever-action rifle back and smacks him in the face with the stock. He falls to the rain-soaked ground unconscious.

  “Apprehend him at once.” The soldier says.

  Eyelids heavy. Pain wrenching in his nose. Suddenly a splash of water hits his face. His eyes shoot open. He looks around. A black-gloved hand grabs the hood and tugs it down, revealing a receding chestnut hairline.

  “H-huh? Where am I??” He asks.

  Two soldiers stand guard at the lone door. A third makes his way around the man in the chair. The room had gray walls and flooring with no windows but simply a vent on the ceiling. An empty bucket and steel tray on wheels sits next to where the man was seated. Off in the left-hand corner is a table with the rat cage on top and a large steel bin filled with wood. The soldier’s faces were concealed by gas masks, giving off an ominous and threatening aura. The soldier facing the man grabs the tray to pull it over to where he stands. He tries to move his hands but his wrists are tied with rope and bound to the back of the chair. He shakes in his rain-soaked boots.

  “Y-your attire. You’re… Americans?” He realizes.

  “Good. You’re conscious. Time to speak, whelp.” The soldier speaks. “Start with your name.”

  “N-name? I-it’s uh… B-Barry.” The man stutters.

  “Last name.”

  “Welkers.”

  “Barry Welkers. Alright. Now… Time to answer some questions. Where are you from?”

  Barry hesitates for a moment. Then he nods.

  “M-Merton, sir. I’m from Merton.” He says.

  “Next question. The rats. Where are they from?”

  Barry looks up to the soldier. He shakes his head.

  “N-no I can’t… can’t disclose that information.”

  The soldier looks to the tray. He picks up a pair of rusted pliers. He presses a hand to Barry’s forehead and sticks the pilers into his mouth, forcing it open. He then proceeds to clamp down on a tooth and pulls, wrenching it out. A spurt of blood flies out as the soldier brings the pliers out of Barry’s mouth. He cries in agony. The soldier places the bloody tooth on the tray.

  “Wrong. Now again I’m going to ask… Where are the rats from? You have five seconds.” He demands.

  Barry starts weeping. He shakes his head.

  “I-I can’t sir! I-if I tell then it’s over. I-I’ll be dead meat!”

  The soldier shoves the pliers into Barry’s mouth once again. He yanks another took out. Barry winces and cries out.

  “Five… seconds. Answer the fucking question you pathetic sack of shit. Where are the goddamn rats??”

  Tears stream down Barry’s cheeks. He breaks.

  “…ington.”

  “I’m sorry? Speak up!”

  “Hackney! They’re bred inside a lab in Islington! On Coach Boulevard! I-in the basement of the old sewage maintenance plant!”

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  The soldier nods. He sets the pliers down and motions towards one of the other soldiers. They nod, walking over to the table. They pull out a lighter and ignite the bin. The wood is set ablaze. Barry looks in horror at the soldier grabbing the steel rat cage.

  “What… what are you doing??” He coughs.

  They kneel down to open the cage and proceed to dump the rats into the bin. Their squeals cry out as they burn alive. Barry is floored. The interrogator grabs Barry’s head and holds it in place. He’s unable to look away.

  “Yes. Watch the vermin burn. Watch your little parasites fester and die as their corpses turn to cinder. We appreciate your cooperation. However, we still have one last question to ask…”

  The soldier turns Barry’s head to face him down. His eyes hidden behind the mask.

  “Who’s in charge? Of your whole operation?”

  Barry shutters. He coughs up blood and shakes his head.

  “I-I honestly… don’t know. I-I just get my orders from my friend, Walter. He answers… to the boss.”

  The soldier nods. He snaps his fingers then pulls out a knife to cut the rope tying Barry to the chair. He coughs again and looks at his bruised, dirty hands.

  “Thank you for your cooperation, citizen. You two… Escort this man to the authorities for detainment. I’ll assemble my unit to head for Islington. Oh… and if we find out you’re lying… Expect far worse than losing a few teeth.” The soldier murmurs.

  Barry swallows hard. He’s escorted out of the room by the soldiers. He sighs and fears for his acquaintances.

  “Hold steady now. And… done.”

  Marianne finishes injecting Rainmaker into the last of a family of five. The youngest of three children rubs his arm where the needle dug into his skin. The mother and father gather their two boys and girl. She breathes a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you. So much. Our kids were usually very active so maybe they picked it up from someone else… Or even caught it themselves. W-we’re not sure.” The mother says.

  “Of course. You and your husband are medicated and now all of you have Rainmaker coursing through your veins so Crow’s Plague shouldn’t be a problem anymore. Just be very cautious out there, okay?” Marianne replies.

  “What she said. Rainmaker is curing the infected but the plague is far from contained. So, we urge for all citizens to sanitize and keep their health safe.” Peter chimes in.

  Each family member nods. They all wave off the doctors as they head for the front door of the house. The two head next door. This neighborhood in Harrow consisted of rows of townhouses making up the entirety of its residential housing. Not a single resident was in sight due to the quarantine in order.

  Peter knocks on the door. Initially there is no response. He tries again. Without hesitation, he opens the door. Coughs could be heard coming from upstairs. The two make their way up to the second story. Another cough echoes from the furthest room. The bedroom. Lying on the bed in the nude is a young lady with long, light blonde hair. Peter and Marianne are admittedly thrown off. They turn their heads away.

  “Ma’am. We’re with the Institute. Please put some clothes on.” Marianne says.

  “I’m glad you said it and not me.” Peter whispers.

  “Oh hush.”

  The woman doesn’t listen. She feebly moves her body under the covers of the bed. The last thing she was expecting were visitors.

  “I’m covered now. I-I’m too weak to get up. Sorry.” The woman speaks.

  Peter and Marianne turn their heads back to look at the woman. Marianne presses a hand to Peter and nods to him. He nods back. Marianne approaches her.

  “Hello. And what’s your name?” She asks.

  “I-I’m Charity. You two… are new. The d-doctor that first visited me was a hulking giant.”

  “Hm. Well we’re assigned to this neighborhood. I’m Marianne and that’s my partner Peter over there.”

  Peter playfully waves to her. She waves back.

  “Partner? A-as in co-workers or…?” Charity taps a finger on her chin.

  Marianne takes her bag and pulls out the needle and vial of Rainmaker. She begins prepping the needle.

  “We’re married. We also just so happen to work together. Have been for years now.” She says.

  “Oh? Heh. That’s so sweet. My partner hasn’t been around lately.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “I hope so. Ever since the quarantine, I haven’t been able to leave the house. He lives over in Camden so… If he’s tried to come here he must’ve been turned away.”

  Peter looks to the floor briefly. He then looks back up at her.

  “What’s his name? Maybe… We can find him and tell him how you’re doing.” He suggests.

  “Y-you’d do that?” Charity squeaks.

  Charity’s eyes glow. Marianne plays along and nods to her.

  “The plague has separated and hurt a lot of people. I’m sure we could do this little favor.” She adds.

  Charity smiles. Marianne gently grabs the woman’s arm. The blanket is just barely covering up her bare breasts. Charity pieced together what they were doing. She was familiar with this treatment from the first visit she had from a Black Doctor. So, she didn’t hesitate or flinch.

  “Barry Welkers. Eight Blackberry Drive in Camden. I-I would be over the moon if you did this for me.” Charity exclaims.

  Marianne took the needle up. It pierces into Charity’s arm. She clenches her fists and bites her tongue. Rainmaker transitions from the needle into her veins. She removes the needle to apply bandages.

  “Of course. Once our shift is over, we’ll drive over there.” Marianne murmurs.

  “Thank you. You both are so kind. I miss my darling oh so much…”

  Peter leans against the wall. Marianne gathers her tools and stands up.

  “Well, you’re fine now. Crow’s Plague should be cleansed from your system in about a day or two. Just be patient. Once this is all over, you two can reunite. We’re far too busy to come back this way but rest assured, Barry will hear of your current state. And… yes, me and Peter are very happy.” She reassures her.

  Charity smiles brightly. She rests a hand on her arm where the needle went into. She coughs again.

  “Heh. I’m glad. Thanks again. N-not just for doing this lonely woman a favor or treating me… But for saving lives. Period. I pray to God this plague is ridden soon.”

  Peter and Marianne both nod.

  “Us too. Us too…”

  Charity waves to the two doctors before they leave the room.