DAY FOURTEEN: NOVEMBER 08 2025

Woke up about 5 minutes ago to the announcer cackling on about the next stop. My stop.

Ordered coffee. Hopefully it will be waiting for me by the time I'm finished here in the toilet. Ten I'll grab a bite to eat and catch up on the news feeds. Still no goddamn word from those useless pricks. I get the distinct impression that I'm being left out in the cold. Whatever the case, our mission - my mission - is on track.

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The same waitress from yesterday handed me my coffee. Ha! I think I freaked her out even more today. She stretched over to place my cup and saucer down on the table. I leaned in quickly, grabbing her hand and stared straight into her eyes. Deep blue. Flawless - for now. Didn't notice anything yet, other than a twinkle of fear and anger.

"Sir!" she had said and flicked my fucking hand off hers. Totally unaware that I'm part of her already. Well, the dermasvirus anyway.

An hour till we disembark. Breakfast time.

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Seriously, do me a favour. Message from the team reads:

Subject #1 has left work early.

That's it! Nothing else?

If they aren't going to furnish me with any more particulars, then I'm just going to have to hack her social networks. See if she goes crying to mommy about how she's feeling.

10 minutes to the main terminal. No problem.

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Her online life has revealed little. No parents alive to speak of. Therefore no sniveling. No recent posts. Dare I say no one to give a crap.

This is my stop.

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I can't breathe! What the fuck just happened? P00104 that piece of shit traitor. How the fuck did we, I, not see it?

MESSAGE: P00102
You ignorant morons. What the hell is going on? Your comms have been practically non existent. Now I get off at my stop at $@^# and guess who is there to greet me with a blank stare, that now says so much in hindsight? None other than P00104. Yes! That French fucker Guillaume. And fuck protocol before you start preaching about using real names here. Because if what he says is true then it's all flushed down the toilet.

He calmly invited me for a cup of coffee as if he just wanted to catch up and talk about the goddamned weather. Like him being at $@^# was the most normal thing in the world.

My face must have said everything because I didn't utter a "what the fuck", "who the fuck", nothing and he smirked his "Hi, Ryan. We need to talk."

And talk he did. I'd didn't say a word. I just listened to his tale. You may be interested in it.

1. Subject #1 will die. But not because of the virus. The virus will reverse itself. She will die an old lady in 70 or 80 years.

2. I, on the other hand, am Subject #2.

3. And the rest of the team are in completely random descending order.

4. Within 5 days we all will be dripping skin, fingers, organs and liquid eyeballs.

5. Everyone that I have come into contact with will have a slight cold. Nothing life-altering.

Charming. If I didn't have this sick churning sensation in my gut right now I would say he was talking shit. Then again, nerves will do that to the strongest of us. And why would he travel all that way as a practical joke or even an empty threat?

So best you rocket scientists get into the DNA sequence and check what the fuck is going on. In the mean time I am on the first direct ride back that I could get.

I will be taking a fucking sleeping tablet and hope this bullshit oozes out of my psyche by the time the last drop of whiskey drains from my glass.

End Message.

DAY FIFTEEN...