Dr Saunders fell forward in his chair, catching his head in his hands, with his elbows pressed against his knees. He hyperventilated aggressively for what felt like a few seconds but was probably closer to a minute or two. He had never felt such bubbling unease in the pit of his stomach; it made him want to hurl up the entire contents of his body, including his torn heart. Which way did he go? Was handing over the cure saving the human race or condemning it to chaos and misery?

It had suddenly dawned on him over the past few days that a cure may not even be necessary. What if the immunes survived this plagued world, what if they could fight back and regain control? That would leave a small population of brave people who had to fight for their right to exist. Maybe that was the perfect starting point for a new civilisation, maybe a cure would only contaminate sure a pure source of life.

Who knows how the infected would even react to his cure. Maybe it wouldn't work. He was quite sure of his science, but there was always a chance of difficulties when it came to human trials. Or maybe it would work but the patients would never regain their sense of humanity. Maybe they had seen too much, done too much. Maybe this was all too far gone.

Saunders composed himself before retaking his feet powerfully, as if standing before his people as a king. He was sick and tired of maybes. It was time to take action.

He had played out the scenarios in his head, and he was confident there was only one way, and one way alone, to save his own skin, for the short term anyway. Handing over the cure and testing it on members of the Brotherhood would guarantee their need to keep him around. The only thing stopping a hundred blades pressing into every inch of his skin was proof, proof of a cure.

It was time to fulfil his promise.

He had been perfecting his eureka-moment reaction for the past day. It was key for the Brotherhood to believe that he had in fact discovered a cure, otherwise they would put an end to both it and him. How ironic a death that would be. After so many tireless nights of working on finding a remedy, he finally discovers it, only to have people cut him down because they didn't buy his act.

As Saunders heard the familiar sound of boots stomping purposefully along the corridor, he made his move. He darted around the lab, slamming draws shut and making exerting excited cries. By the time Julia and co entered the room, he was practically bouncing off the walls with giddy joy.

Saunders pretended not to see them at first, as if swept up in all the excitement, but after Julia cleared her throat, demanding an explanation, he turned around, eyes wide.

"It's here!" he screamed with euphoric joy. "I've finally done it!"

Julia rolled her eyes, "Have you now?"

Saunders staggered over to her, holding up a serum and a scrunched handful of notes, "Yes. Yes! Its here. It's finally here!"

She didn't flinch. Her eyes didn't flicker with amazement. Her lips didn't curl into even the faintest of smiles. Julia hadn't been with the Brotherhood for long, weeks rather than months, but she had risen to the top of the pile with ease. Saunders got the impression that she wasn't long since infected, hell, there was no guarantee she was infected at all. Maybe she just got off on all this power.

She was as sharp as a knife and Saunders had always known it would be hard to crack her. She was suspicious, and he couldn't blame her, the whole situation reeked of something fishy.

"Let me get this straight. We give you one final deadline, and despite promising a cure for weeks, you happen to find it on the very last day before we end your sorry little life...?" Julia verified.

Saunders moved closer still, his eyes still wide but now with confusion and desperation, "No, no, no... you have to believe me! This is it! This is the cure! I found it, I swear I found it!"

Julia stared into his pulsating pupils for a few seconds before making a gesture with her hand, never breaking eye contact for a second. Because Saunders was meeting her gaze so strongly, it wasn't until seconds later he noticed the scalpel that had been placed into her hand.

It was the same one used to stab him in the shoulder on their last visit, cleaned and packed away again by Saunders himself, only for it to be used against him for the second time.

"Please," he begged. "Please, give m a chance. You have to give me a chance."

Julia laughed, "Oh, I have to, do I? I think you'll find I don't have to do anything your snivelling little mouth tells me."

She snatched the serum from his grasp and placed it on the table, before pushing Saunders down to the ground. No sooner than he was on his knees, Julia's boot was pressed firmly against his chest, sending him flailing back, pinned to the floor.

"Maybe you didn't hear me last time. Maybe that's been the problem from the start..." she whispered, crouching down over him, blocking any form of light like a solar eclipse.

She pressed the scalpel against the top of his ear, right into the crack where it met the side of his head. The thin metal blade sat snuggly in the gap as if it had been made for it, but that comfy image soon evaporated as Julia pressed down on the handle. The razor sharp tip cut down into the soft flesh, drawing one thick drop of blood from the wound.

"If you haven't been hearing me... if you haven't been listening, then what is the use of this little fella?" she asked menacingly.

"Please, don't do this. I have what you want, okay? I did what you asked, I really did!" Saunders babbled.

"Shhhhh" Julia breathed gently, pressing the tip of her finger nail against his upper lip. "I wouldn't draw any unwanted attention to that tongue of yours."

Julia eased the scalpel in deeper, slicing a few millimetres into the top of Saunders' ear. The nasty tingling feeling quickly turned into a sharp pain as he tried desperately to muffle his cries.

"Oh, Doctor. If you're already struggling, I hate to imagine what you'll be like by the end of today."

Her eyes were disturbingly calm. Madness hidden in normality. Like a storm raging atop a still ocean. He hoped she was infected. He didn't want to believe that a person sound-of-mind could do this.

"Please-"

"What did I tell you about that flapping tongue of yours?"

"Please," Saunders repeated. "Promise me that you'll at least test the serum... after you've finished with me. Just let someone take a look at it... use it... do something good with it. Please..."

Suddenly, there it was. A flicker of something. Saunders wasn't sure what it was exactly, but there was a definite change. Her eyes fluttered, as if confused, as if weighing up her options. Something in the sincerity of his plea had made her doubt herself, and now his voice would be playing inside that head of hers.

What if he is telling the truth? What if the cure is real?

Julia dug the scalpel in an extra few millimetres just for good measure before jumping back to her feet. Despite clearly changing her mind, she looked angry, angry that he'd managed to talk his way out of this.

Saunders thanked the lord that he did in fact have a working cure. He could only imagine the things she would do to him if it turned out he was lying now.

"Well then..." Julia exclaimed. "Prove it Doc. If this cure is everything you say it is, show us."

Saunders hauled himself to his feet using the edge of the lab's centre table. His nervous, shaking hands scrambled across the work surface to retrieve the tiny vial before opening up his top drawer to fetch a syringe.

He drew the clear liquid into the glass above the needle, and sheepishly mimed a motion on his wrist, "Your sleeve."

Julia cackled, "You think I'm letting you go anywhere near me with that thing. Do you think I was born yesterday?"

She clicked her fingers and the two burly Brotherhood foot soldiers at the rear of the room snapped into action, grabbing an arm each of smaller man in front of them.

"What... What are you doing?" he cried as they slammed him down into a chair and tore up his sleeve.

"Calm down, Joshua," Julia ordered. "You're about the become the first cured infected human in the history of this disease... or you'll die, one of the two. Fingers crossed, eh?"

She was enjoying the fear plastered across his face, she fed on it like an energy source, and her stomach was unappeasable.

Joshua continued to struggle as Saunders stumbled over to his patient, but he soon held himself still after Julia hissed, "Or we can just kill you now and be done with it."

His hands clamped tightly around the metal chair, his knuckles a paler white than Saunders had ever seen. His eyes were squeezed shut and his entire body was clenched like a spring ready to burst. It was as if he were preparing himself for a bullet, when in reality the pin-prick would be almost too small to even feel. But that didn't help ease the fear, perhaps it was easier to face a visible enemy than one that could destroy you from within.

Saunders cleaned Joshua's wrist before pushing the needle into his vein and squeezing ever drop of the liquid into his system.

"Now we wait," Saunders announced simply.