Clandestine Blood

An ambulance wailing. Multiple police sirens. A woman's screaming. The silence of a busy street.

That can never be good... Not here, not anywhere.

She rushed out of her apartment, hurrying to the elevator. Arriving, she waited impatiently for the family to exit the elevator in order for her to push herself in. She waved awkwardly at the children who looked at her with strange eyes. Hesitantly, they waved back.

She began to spam-press the button to go to the roof, hoping the door would close before any other person had the desire to enter the single elevator the complex had. Dinging sounded. She groaned and fumbled out her I.D. card, pressed it aggressively against the scanner, tapping her foot against the metal floor impatiently. Finally, it beeped in approval and the doors closed aggravatingly slowly.

Is the world trying to prevent me from seeing this?

Upon reaching the rooftop and the elevator doors opening, she hurried out of the small room and onto the rooftop. The sirens and wailing were still dominating the silent streets around her. She went to where the sound was coming from and looked down. Below her was the sight she somewhat expected to see.

The street was blocked off by six police cars, three on each side, blocking the rest of the world from entering and exiting -- a rare sight to see on such a main street. In the center of the street were medics bringing a body into an ambulance car. She looked at where the medics were coming from and saw a giant pinkish-red splotch of blood on the street. She immediately winced at the sight, especially when she saw who the wailing was coming from: a woman who was reaching for the body the medics were carrying away, being held back by the arms by two males. She looked around, trying to find the one who caused all of this, but to no avail. All she saw was the pool of blood and the screaming woman.

As though it was a shock to her system, she pulled back from the rooftop ledge and anxiously hurried back to the small building that held the elevator. As she walked, she dug out a small pocketknife from her pocket. Flicking it open, when she entered the elevator and the doors closed, she gently poked the skin of her arm. She looked closely at the small poke and saw pinkish-red blood and sighed of relief. What she had seen was not confiscated information.

What was the importance of this?

In her great-grandparent's generation, there was a huge pandemic occurring. During this pandemic, multiple different diseases and viruses were running rampant, constantly evolving. The amount of vaccinations people took was numerous. A few years into the pandemic, violence began to run more rampant. Insanity began to seep into the minds of the sane; Violence began to leak into the world once in peace. Technology was evolving and so were the methods of murder. It got to the point where nobody could tell whether the victims died from disease or murder.

The government realized this and decided to take advantage of the vaccinations. In these vaccinations were a liquid that transformed the recipient's blood into something new, something manipulated. With as many vaccinations as there were, this new blood-technology could be passed down genetically.

What was the importance of this blood-technology? When a person committed a crime, their blood would become more tainted. The more violent the crime, the more numerous the crimes, the more tainted the blood would become. In courtrooms, if the criminal's blood was not a pinkish-red tone, it meant they were guilty. This was another way to ensure the jury was all innocent. One can assume the vast amount of ways the government uses this blood-technology to their advantage.

Re-entering her apartment, she closed the door behind her and locked it. She walked to her bathroom, squatted, opened a drawer, took out a bandage, and began the process of covering her wound. She hummed a small tune during the process as though this was a normal occasion, an activity she goes through every other day.

Of course, being married to a lawyer meant she was always tested as well when he took on a new case. If the wife is guilty, how can one trust the lawyer?

Afterwards, she walked to the fridge and began to find something to eat. Mostly microwavable products. Who wants to do a lot of work after seeing such a traumatic sight? After completing all of this, she took it to the island, sat down, and began to eat.

Some time went by, there was a knock on the door, and it unlocked. She looked up and watched her husband walk inside. He looked tired and stressed. She sighed out of sympathy, stood up, and began to search the fridge for something to cook for him.

"Are you stressed, darling?" She asked, taking out something. He gives a small huff of a laugh and shrugs. She glances over to him and sees him look through the pantry, reaching for a soda.

"I suppose," he answers. He looks over to her and sees what she is doing, then waves his hand dismissively. He clicks open the soda. "I'm not too hungry. Don't worry 'bout me. I think I'm gonna head to bed."

She nods with a worried smile. She mumbles an "Alright, honey," and proceeds to put the food back into the fridge. She sits back on her chair at the island and watches her husband. She notices him biting his thumb and clicks her tongue.

Her husband has a bad habit of biting the skin on the side of his thumb when he gets nervous. She did not try to stop him, nor did she ask why he was so nervous. She assumed he has already been called onto the case she saw that morning. She did not want to question, especially if she was going to be blood tested. What if she gained information she should not have and ruined her husband's money-making? After a short amount of time of watching him bite the skin of his thumb, she pipes up a little.

"Are you going to be alright, honey?"

"Yeah, I just... big case." Was his entire response. She nodded. She completely understood. Her overthinking proved correct.

"Sorry we cannot talk about it much. I'm just going to assume it's from this morning. I went to the roof to see what was happening; It was so loud but so... silent."

He merely nods. Confirmation.

He walks over to her after quickly downing his soda. He kisses her cheek and mumbles how he is going to head to bed. She nods and gently moves a small bit of his hair behind his ear. He gives a small smile and kisses her cheek again before heading to their room and closing the door.

She picks up her food and goes to one of the seats, turning on the television. She turns on some random game show that plays in the evening and enjoys the rest of her food.

Hours pass. Her cheek began to itch.

Did I get bitten by a bug?

As a reaction, she scratches the area on her cheek with her index finger. Thankfully, this made the itch go away. She sighs of relief. It genuinely was unbearable.

Time wears on. She turns off the television. She stretches, stands, and places her food and utensils in the trash and sink respectively. After a yawn, the itch returned. She groaned and grew a little worried.

Is it a blemish? Acne? Bug bite? I should probably head to the bathroom, especially if it's a bite. I know I have some medicine for it.

She heads to the bathroom swiftly. She turns on the light, squats, and rummages through the cabinets. She takes out multiple different medicines, prepared for the result it may be. Blemish and acne medicines, bug bite medicines...

She stands up, popping open a bottle of moisturizer. She pours a tiny bit on the top of her hand, dabs her index and middle finger on it, makes small circles, holds it up to her cheek where the itch is burning, and finally looks up to make sure she is aiming correctly.

A gasp sounds.

Black blood.