Aaron did what he liked to do most when he returned home from a terrible day: take a long, warm shower. He stood still as the water crashed down against his bare body, washing away the dry blood from his previous wounds. Normally he would've been disgusted by how red his bathroom floor was, but the comforting warmth of the water combined with the fact that he survived an encounter with one of the most dangerous Abnormals in the Dead Zone made his worries vanish for a moment. Watching the crimson flow down the drain nearly made him feel like his mistakes were finally disappearing from the memories of his fellow inhabitants. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of the shower and turned the water off, immediately grabbing a towel. He put on a new pair of jeans and remained shirtless for a few extra minutes as he waited for his top half to dry. He sat down on his bed, turned on the radio, and started doodling in his journal to pass time.

He skipped past the drawings of Bloodletter he'd sketched the night before and stopped at the next blank page he found. He quickly sketched the top halves of Harry, Jade, and Kyle, adding detail to their hair and clothes. He drew Harry with his messy brown hair and his torn shirt with the sleeve dangling off. He didn't add shading to his eyes to make them look lifeless, but he drew Harry with a friendly smile, completely contradicting from any other drawing of Deadmen. He loved how each element of Harry's face compared to his nature, portraying him as the animalistic yet affable individual he'd known him to be so far.

He then moved on to drawing Jade. Now that he thought about it, she looked very similar to Harry. Not only did they both have messy yet surprisingly pretty brown hair, they both had tears in their left sleeves. Even their ragged shirt and jeans were almost the same color. The only difference was that Jade had a bite mark on her neck whereas Harry didn't seem to have one anywhere. Just like his drawing of Harry, he gave Jade an amiable smile and drew her hair as if wind were blowing against it.

He finished off the page with an illustration of Kyle. Of the three, he looked the most different. Unlike Harry and Jade, he had a clean buzz cut instead of a bush of hair, almost as if getting a haircut was the last thing he did before he turned. He wore a hoodie that hardly had a single drop of blood on it, and the only sight of blood on him was in his teeth. And unlike Harry and Jade, he was black, his skin conspicuously darker than his friends' but still pale enough to ensure his undead status. He finished off the drawing by giving Kyle a more taciturn expression since he'd never seen him smile, doing his best to emphasize his more sophisticated nature in comparison to the more relaxed attitudes of his closest friends.

He sat up and admired his work for a moment before moving on to another clean page. He quickly sketched up a quick image of Edgar staring at a gravestone. Even though it was a simple drawing of a short-lived moment, the sight of a Deadman child looking down at the resting place of a peaceful corpse sent a thousand thoughts racing through Aaron's head. In this new world infested by the undead, true death almost seemed like a blessing. There'd be no more suffering and, if it was true, there might actually be a better place for the soul to go. But what if the Deadmen felt the same way? What if they also wanted to complete their death? Was it as agonizing to be a Deadman as it was to be trapped in a country full of them?

Could a Deadman be suicidal or depressed? Can they feel positive emotions or even emote at all? Do they feel like they need a purpose? Do all of them have some kind of postmortem mission like Bloodletter suggested?

Aaron's train of thought was derailed by the sound of a booming knock at his door. "O'Connor!" bellowed Schaefer. "Open the door!"

Aaron quickly ripped out the pages containing his new drawings and stuffed them into his pocket, quickly tossing the journal back into his desk before putting on his shirt. He stuffed the gun and hunting knife into his mattress, hoping he would never have to use them, not that he'd even get away with it.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" Schaefer pounded his fist against the door even harder.

"Piss off," Aaron growled knowing the visitors wouldn't hear him.

He opened the door, immediately regretting it. Even though only three people were at his door, it felt like the whole cavalry had showed up. Colonel Schaefer, Hugh Richmond, and Vaughn Vega stood in front of him, not a single one of them happy to see him.

"I can see you brought the whole brigade with you," Aaron said, trying to remain as calm as possible while also fitting in some snark. "I'm surprised you didn't drag Shaw along for the gang-bang."

"Nice to see you, too," Schaefer replied, unamused. "And Shaw is with the other DZI at their new base in Longridge. Or at least the ones who survived your little mistake."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

Richmond threateningly approached Aaron. "You better watch your tone, lad. A man with more power than you'll ever have deserves more respect than—"

"It's fine, Richmond," Schaefer interrupted. "He's young. He's rebellious. You can't expect everyone to look up to their superiors." He turned back to Aaron. "As for you, O'Connor, we've come to retake your blood samples. Some hooligan killed Dan while he was running the infection test and none of the blood films we took were left behind. We assume the crook either stole them or lost them."

Guess I accidentally dropped them in that grimy space beneath the lab, Aaron thought to himself, slightly relieved.

"Vega, take the sample," Schaefer said, wandering around the room. "He was supposed to be in Longridge, but Dan's death ruined the fun by putting a slight change in plans."

Richmond closed the door and locked it, giving Aaron a threatening look to clarify he was under house arrest. Vaughn sat down at the small couch in the corner of the flat, rustling through his duffel bag for the supplies. Schaefer continued strolling around the room, blatantly suspicious.

"You alright, sir?" Aaron asked Schaefer. "You seem miffed."

"Don't worry, lad," Schaefer replied, still investigating the room. "Not miffed. Just vigilant, is all. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing ghosts. Like if Jacob Marley is suddenly gonna burst into my flat and tell me more spirits are on the way."

"Oh. Christmas Carol reference, innit?"

Schaefer chuckled. "Correct, lad. Are you a bookworm yourself?"

"I used to be. The headmaster and headmistress back at the children's home got me into literature. Plus, I spent most of my days in the library teaching Nika English."

Schaefer flashed what appeared to be a genuine look of intrigue. "Oh really? Where is she—"

"Russia. That's why her surname is Koslov."

"Interesting," Vaughn chimed in, appearing next to Aaron. His hands were gloved and he held a lancet and a glass slide. "Are you ready, O'Connor?"

Aaron held up his hand and extended his fingers out. Vaughn grabbed Aaron's pointer finger and placed the tip of the lancet against his fingertip. He then brushed the blade across the finger, leaving a small incision behind. A bead of blood bubbled out of the incision and Aaron pressed his finger down on the slide as instructed, leaving behind a crimson smudge.

"Thank you for taking time to contribute to Matheson's science department," Vaughn said, taking the slide away from Aaron. The manner in which he said that sentence sounded generic and forced, as if uttering that statement was a part of his routine. "Would you like a bandage for your wound?"

"I'm eighteen years old, you wanker," Aaron replied with a straight face. "I was in the DZI for two years and I didn't need a single bandage for any of my wounds."

"And that's probably why we're here testing you for infection."

"We're done here," Richmond declared. "Just need to do one more thing."

"And what would that be?" Aaron replied, covering the cut on his finger despite the lack of pain.

Vaughn sterilized the lancet before placing it back in his duffel bag. Richmond unholstered his rifle and raised it toward Aaron, cocking it one time. Schaefer drew his machete, aiming the tip of the blade at Aaron.

"I hate having to constantly drop my friendly demeanor," Schaefer explained, "but we have a serious situation at hand. Due to the disappearance of the original blood films, many members of Matheson's science division, including Vaughn here, suspect you of killing Dan Marston. So, to keep the citizens of Matheson calm in the meantime, I've ordered the DZI to hold you in the prison level for the night."

Aaron's eyes widened. "But I didn't do it!"

"As a former member of the DZI, you should know that despite the necessary precautions we take while exploring the Dead Zone, many of Matheson's inhabitants aren't fond of violence, especially since many of them witnessed the horrific attacks on London and the rest of England years ago. And if they find out that a human in the midst of turning has been doing the most damage within their own safe haven, panic could break out. Or worse: the virus. So, to keep things under control, your access to the rest of Matheson has been temporarily restricted."

"You can't possibly think I did it! I wasn't even at the science lab this morning!"

"Then who did I see running down the main hall of the DZI headquarters earlier?" Richmond barked.

"Thank you for bringing me to my next point, Lieutenant Richmond," Schaefer continued. "You're not the only suspect, O'Connor. In fact, four other suspects have been incarcerated besides you. And you still have Natalya Koslov to keep you company."

"B-b-but..." Aaron stuttered, seconds away from losing it again. "I'm not a criminal."

"I agree, lad. You're not a criminal. But you are human. Like all good men, your intentions might be right, but how you fulfill those intentions can be very, very wrong."

Richmond grabbed Aaron and pinned his arms to his back. He quickly strapped handcuffs around Aaron's wrists and led him into the hallway, keeping a strong grip on his arm.

"Get moving," Richmond growled, whacking Aaron in the back of the head with the butt of his gun.

Vaughn shut the door behind him and followed the other three down the hall. Schaefer and Richmond held onto Aaron's arms as they escorted him to the elevator. Aaron kept his eyes on the floor beneath him, as he felt he no longer had anything to look forward to.

What could he do now? Matheson's prison was ruthless. There were no rules banning guards from killing prisoners, which is why Kat got away with it the other day. The only criminals they couldn't kill were the ones marked for interrogation with a green DZI armband and even those guys rarely made it out alive, especially if Schaefer led the interrogation.

The four of them approached the elevator. Vaughn pressed the button and the four of them waited as the elevator arrived at their present floor, the doors sliding open to reveal the lift's grated walls.

"Get in there," Richmond said, shoving Aaron into the elevator. The others followed Aaron in and waited for Vaughn to press the next button.

The four of them waited patiently as the elevator began its descent. Vaughn and Richmond looked through the grated walls over the rest of Matheson, watching the inhabitants pass by through the Commons.

"Colonel Schaefer," Aaron croaked. "May I please make one request?"

"Perfect timing," Schaefer replied. "Your right to speak will be taken away once we've reached the prison, so use your time and words wisely."

"Could you make it one of your top priorities to make sure Nika never finds out about this?"

Schaefer chuckled. "I'm afraid it's none of my business to interfere with your personal life."

"But if she finds out about this, she'll—"

The elevator doors opened up, revealing the iconic sign of Matheson's prison level. NO INFECTED ALLOWED. Richmond early stepped out of the lift before Schaefer grabbed him fiercely by the shoulder. "Read the sign, idiot," Schaefer scolded. "We need to go lower."

"My apologies, sir," Richmond replied before pressing the down button once more, and the elevator doors slid shut once again.

"Are Kat and Jonah here?" Aaron asked before the lift began its descent.

"They're in Longridge with a good majority of the DZI. Also—" Richmond paused to smack Aaron in the back of the head with the butt of his gun, "you have the right to remain silent."

The lights of the regular prison level disappeared above the elevator, and the four men were surrounded by darkness. The only sound filling the air was the clank of the elevator's rusty gears, like a blacksmith's hammer pounding against metal. Every once in a while, the orange haze of a single light bulb would flash through the cage. Aaron felt like he was being personally escorted to Hell.

Eventually, the elevator slowed to a halt. The doors slid open with a loud rattle and Richmond shoved Aaron out into the corridor. From one direction to the other, just slick concrete walls and not a single window in sight. Their paths were lit by a few fluorescent lights widely spaced apart, their dim glows only reaching so far. Aaron knew it was still a part of the sub-level, but it was otherwise unfamiliar territory for him. Three fire extinguishers hung on the wall, each one about a dozen feet apart, and there was a single door at the far end of the hall to his left.

Schaefer and Richmond took the lad's arms once more and escorted him down the corridor. There were six cells just like the ones in the standard prison level, but each one was shrouded in shadow thanks to their lack of windows. The lights above him revealed the occasional brown smudge of blood across the floor. They stopped in front of the third cell, one positioned beside a mysterious room hidden behind a black steel door.

Richmond removed the cuffs before shoving Aaron into the cell, immediately closing him behind the bars. "There you go," he said. "Try not to screw up more than you already have."

"Fuck you," Aaron growled under his breath. He scooted up to the prison wall and sat back against it.

"Have a good day, O'Connor," Schaefer concluded. "Because if you aren't lucky, this could be your last."