His heart sank when he heard it. Such a small sound - it couldn't have been heard by anyone else. In fact, now he wasn't even sure that he had heard it. Rather, it seemed as if he had felt it. It had only happened one. It only ever happened once. You felt, or heard, this "Pfff!" sound inside you, just below the chest, and you knew what had happened. Will Thomas tried not to believe it - but he knew it was true. He looked around at the other passengers. None of them knew it had happened. If they had, they would have backed away from him, maybe even jumped out of the train.
When he reached the next station he got out. It wasn't his station, but it didn¡¦t matter. He lived alone. There was no ticket collector there, and it wouldn't have mattered if there had been. He would only have to tell the truth and the ticket collector would let him pass through soon enough.
The air was cold now, and night was drawing near, a chilly breeze rustling the dead leaves of the trees. The street seemed bare and dreary and a lot of houses did not have lights on. He walked on, and lifted his wrist to see his watch.
"About twenty minutes left," he said aloud. "Why does it happen? And why must we be warned like that?" He looked up as a sudden gust of wind pushed itself through the branches of a tall tree nearby.
"If I had a rope - " he thought. But this idea soon left him. It was a funny thing that! Not many committed suicide. There seemed to be something preventing them from killing themselves. Will had decided before that, if it ever happened to him, he would certainly try to commit suicide, but now that it had happened, he had no desire to do this, even though, if he waited, it would be much more painful. He stood still, watching a couple of leaves fall from the tree.
Suddenly a scream of agony pierced the silence. It came from the house he was standing outside of, so he climbed over the fence and went in to see what he could do. Not much, probably, but then there was nothing else to do, and it was getting very dark outside.
The scream came again as he walked through the doorway and saw a woman holding her stomach, a look of unspeakable agony on her face. She looked at him for an instant, with an almost hopeful look on her face, as if this stranger could lighten her burden in some way. Then she screamed again. Will walked up to her, and put his arm around her.
"Come now," he whispered. "Come now. I've got it too," he said, as if this fact could comfort her somehow. "I've only got about fifteen minutes left."
She clung tightly to him, trying to hold back her scream.
"Why?" she sobbed. "Why? Why does it happen?" Her tears fell onto Will's neck, and he wept too.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I'm Willy. Do you feel any better now?"
"Yes - I -". Then she screamed again, louder than before, and pushed Will away from her. Then she changed her mind and clutched him closer to her. His cold body grew warmer against the feverish body of this strange woman. He looked at her closely for the first time. She was young, and she would be beautiful if she wasn't doubled up with pain.
"Are you married?" he asked.
"Yes," she moaned. "My husband died - three days ago. He was at work when it happened. I - I didn't see it." She paused, then added, "He was one of the men who helped develop 'The Weapon' in the first place. He never thought this would be the result. Please forgive him!"
"I forgive him," whispered Will, though his heart could not forgive.
By this time she had calmed down a little. She cried silently on Will's shoulder. "It doesn't hurt much now," she said softly. But Will knew what this meant. He had heard about it. There was always this lull before the end - before the final agony of this terrible plague. And she knew this too, but she pretended not to.
Then it happened - unexpected at that moment, though nevertheless expected. She screamed a high-pitched, piercing scream - like the scream of a tormented soul. Will held her close to him, trying to soother her somehow, but he knew he couldn't. And still she screamed. Then he heard a soft "Pfff!" and the long scream ceased at that instant. The body hung limply in his arms. He dropped it and stood back, knowing what would happen next. Her stomach and waist were swelling up, growing larger and larger, until her clothes tore, her skin stretching tighter and tighter. Then it burst - without a sound. Her skin just split and folded back, curling back to each side, and the thick black liquid oozed over onto the floor.
Will ran from the room. He couldn't watch the rest of it. He knew it would happen to him very soon. He found himself in the kitchen. "Get a knife!" he thought. "Get a knife!" He searched for a knife. If only he could find the strength to kill himself. Ah! There was a big knife. One good stab and he would escape. He rushed forward, grabbed the knife, and held it ready to plunge into his breast. But his grip suddenly weakened. The knife fell to the floor with a clatter, and Will Thomas felt a bubbling inside him.
A piercing scream came from somewhere in the distance, and, as if he were answering it, Will screamed. Then he screamed again - and again.
Out in the dark almost-deserted street stood a middle-aged man. Screams surrounded him from two directions. Five minutes before, he had heard a "Pfff!" inside him. He turned and headed for the nearest scream and found a young child in agony, lying screaming on the carpet of a luxurious living-room.
Not far away Will Thomas was also in agony - alone.
