FAN FICTION
VIRUS

Private Thomas W. Carlson was down. In his left leg, he felt an intense pain from far away. Although he knew the virus was slowly starting to seep through his leg, eventually killing him, he didn't care. As he lay back against the transport truck that had brought him to this place, this battlefield, other thoughts were crossing his mind. From far away, as if in a dream, he felt the pain, the intense burning and normally unbearable pain. But he didn't care.

As he drifted through the clouds of his mind, Carlson came across many things, his family, his wife and his little daughter. They would both be devastated when they learned what had happened to him. But he didn't care. Although he knew how they would look, how their faces would suddenly sadden as they learned the truth, then turn to anger. But he didn't care.

Carlson thought of his best friend back at home, Jimmy West. They had both grew up together in a small town in Missouri, and had worked together at a donut shop. Jimmy would be just as shocked as his family, Carlson knew. Jimmy would probably turn to anger too, and curse Carlson for joining the army. But he didn't care.

Mr. Jones, the owner of the old donut shop, flashed through Carlson's mind, too. His large stomach, cheeriness, and fondness for laughs often reminded him of his childhood idea of St. Nick. The old man had always offered advice and comfort, especially after Jimmy's parents had died. Then Carlson and Mr. Jones had been the greatest people to Jimmy. The old man was now in a nursing home, and his laugh was hardly heard anymore. Jimmy and him had still went up to visit Jones every once and awhile, and while they were there they always felt like kids again. But he didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing did.

Carlson floated through his present memories, letting the virus seep through him. It was nice. And soon it would all be over. Nice, quiet, and nothing to worry about. That was it. Soon it would all be over.

"CARLSON!" a voice screamed, and Carlson seemed to wake up. He looked around, still smiling dreamily, and noticed something was on his face. He reached up and found it was a sticky, dark red liquid. Blood. Now, where he hadn't seen anything moments before, he saw a body. A dark body dressed in an Allied GI uniform, lying face down on the grass in front of him. A dark stain was on the back of his uniform, and a hole ripped through it. He recognized the body as one of his friends he had met in the army, David White. He didn't care.

Carlson stood up, stumbled back down, and then got up again, this time keeping his balance. He looked down at the body, and noticed the head was ripped apart. Pieces of metal could be seen in it. Carlson looked down at this with no disgust. He didn't care.

He sat back down, and reentered his dreams. So nice and pleasant, he could just sit here forever, not caring about anything, not doing anything, just sitting. Has nothing to worry about. No worries, no priorities, nothing to do. Carlson's eyes began to droop, and he knew the end was near now. Soon he would be seeing those pearly white gates. Soon... so soon... Carlson was suddenly jerked out of his dreams, and felt an extremely intense pain, like his head was going to explode. He was partially right.

Carlson began to swell up like a balloon, and his eyes bulged out. The pain was unbearable, but he couldn't scream. He couldn't do anything. He tried to move, but he couldn't. Then he burst. There was no sound. There was no notice. The battle went on.

From behind a building about a hundred yards away, the Virus sniper stepped out from behind the building she had been concealed behind. She smiled and started the walk back to the Yuri base employing her.