I’m thinking that this may be one of the last inferno episodes. I’m setting an estimate number of inferno episodes at 15, then I’ll finish my other story, then start a project I’ve wanted to do for a while. also, sorry that I didn’t put the picture of the Pox Beast in. I wasn’t pleased with that one.

“Hey!” shouted the man that Moose had knocked over. “Stop the crazy geezer!” A burst of gunfire came from the others and Moose crumpled in the doorway of the building. Alicia looked sick. Tom looked disgusted that anyone would use such a stupid weapon as a gun.

The leader of the T.H.O.N men pulled himself out of the truck’s front and looked nervously in the direction of the gates of the city, where angry shouts were still emanating from the distance.

“The shots will have tipped them off. Hurry!”

Sacks were shoved over the heads of Tom and Alicia and they felt themselves being dragged inside the building. Doors slammed. There was a clunking sound, like wood being dragged up stairs, and Alicia knew that they were disposing of Moose’s body. A key turned in a lock and she was thrown inside a room, colliding painfully with Tom. The sack was ripped off her head just in time for her to see the door close. She looked around. Tom held both sacks in his hands, panting with rage that seemed totally uncalled for. They were in a bare concrete room with a single lightbulb. Mildew was growing in the corners and on the roof.

She stopped focusing on details when Tom charged headfirst at the door, slammed his forehead on the steel handle, and bounced off. She stepped toward him.

“Tom? Are you okay?”

He jumped and charged the door again, bounced off, and shook his head.

“Tom? Why are you acting so weird?” He looked at her wildly.

“The Yellow! The Yellow!” he cried.

“Tom?”

“The Yellow!”

***

Six hours.

That was the time it took Tom to stop shouting about the yellow and fall asleep. It scared her and set off alarm bells. The charges at the door, and the way he’d said yellow-like it was alive, like it was malevolent. She glanced over at him for the thirty-second time in fifteen minutes. Sweat was pouring from every gland in his body.

Then it stopped.

Not gradually. Immediately. He sat up, perfectly fine, and turned to face her.

“Alicia.”

He held out a knife.

“I don’t want questions. I want you to take that knife and slit my throat.”

Alicia was shocked. This was so out of the blue. “What!?! Why?!?!!?”

Tom took off his shirt, and to her horror, Alicia saw yellow patches on his skin. Large blisters and spots of wiry hair were sprouting out of his skin. She had seen this before. There was no mistake about it.

Unmistakably, unbelievably, Tom had caught the Pox and was already well on his way to becoming a monster.