I had promised him, if I got to a stage with the rhinovirus, we would get ourselves tattooed. Without that breakthrough, I was just another scientist trying to cure the common cold.
The stage came, early one winter morning! We were ecstatic! He got half a heart made on his back, me the other half. We came home drunk, celebrating! He saw her in the darkness before I did. Yet, not early enough. Two quick gunshots and he was dead. Blood pooling around his fallen body.
The shaft of moonlight revealed the shooter’s form. An old woman, with a strange kind of rash all over her body. In all my medical experience I had never seen something that grotesque.
She caught me looking at it. “It’s called VS2.” she sounded in pain. “In seven years from now you will be on the verge of curing the cold. The pharma companies would lose billions in cold medicines. They buy this man out. He steals your formula and gives it to them. They create a mutation of the virus to be in business. It goes out of control. Kills 80 percent of the world population and is called VS2. This dead man was going to be the beginning of the end!”
I gaped in horror. This was a crazy woman with the delusion of a catastrophic future. She read my mind again. “I see you do not recognize me?” she grinned through rotting flesh and then rolled her sleeve to reveal a tattoo, a tattoo of half a heart