Dark Winter Prelude

8/10/2019 Dark Winter Prelude

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Dark Winter Prelude

A Tom Clancys The Division Fancon

Dedicated to all The Division fans.


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Dark Winter Prelude

A Tom Clancys The Division short story fancon

Tom Clancys The Division is set in the near future in New York City. A

bioterror aack caused a worldwide pandemic. The virus cost the lives of

the majority of the populaon, quaranne zones were established,

resources were strictly raoned, oil wells dried out, the stock exchange and

the global market collapsed. State structures like police and Special Forces

do not exist anymore.

In only days without water and electricity, people are at each othersthroats facing the deadly threat. Only a few stand between the total chaos

and the leovers of order: The agents of The Division. By ghng looters

and other criminals, they try to contain the insanity before its too late.

This fancon was wrien to be a possible prologue, told from the

perspecve of David, a young emerging journalist.

1st

Edion, May 2014

Wrien and published by MYDIVISION.NET

Tom Clancys The Division Ubiso

For more informaon visit www.mydivision.net


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Day 1: Outbreak

Even if these lines may never be read by anyone, I had to write down, what I

experienced during the last days, as they turned my life upside-down. My

name is David. I am 29 years old and Im wring as a journalist for a small

magazine here in New York City. The payment is not the best for sure, but I

can do, what I always wanted to: Write. My apartment is not very big, but

its enough for a living. Family? Negave. Im living alone and only have my

grandparents, who are living in the suburb. They value the more quiet life;

however I need the rush of the big city.

It was a usual morning, the week aer Black Friday. The day on which

humanity is invading shops and stores throughout the country as if they allwere remote-controlled, always looking for the best deals, not only with

regard to the nearing Christmas holidays. My alarm clock rang at six in the

morning like every day. I was unwinding the standard program: I got up, out

of the warm bed, had a short shower and some breakfast, le the house

and headed towards the nearby underground staon.

My desnaon, the publishing building, was only four staons away, but

nevertheless it wasnt a walk in the park, especially on cold days like today.The temperature was slightly below the freezing point and the cold wind

was blowing around my ears. The ny water drops in my breath instantly

froze aer exhaling and turned into small, white clouds. The underground

was overlled as usual and the crowds of people pressed themselves into

the wagon, shoulder to shoulder. I had to stand of course; surrounded by

sniing and coughing.

When I reached my staon, I le the underground and aer walking a few

minutes, I arrived at the editorial oces. My own small oce was on the

4th oor. The enre level was exceponally empty that day. Aer asking

one of my colleagues, I received a short but concise They caught a cold and

stayed in their beds. There must be a virus in the air.

My morning was actually as always. I worked on a few new reports. Mostly

boring boulevard stu, other magazines would not lose a single word about.

Interesngly it is exactly these reports what aracts our readers to sll buy

the magazine. Anyway, our business was not very good lately.


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Faster than expected, the clock struck twelve. I planned to spend my lunch

break at my favorite snack bar, right around the corner. They had the best

hand-made burgers oside the fast-food crap. But totally unexpected I

stood in front of closed doors. Closed due to illness! was wrien on a note

pasted provisionally on the window. Next door to the bar was an electronicsshop; some passersby gathered in front of the shop window. Even if you

couldnt hear a single sound, the images and text overlays spoke for

themselves. There was talk about a wave of an aggressive u, spreading

rapidly across the country. The Public Health Department recommended to

avoid crowds, public places and transportaon and, if possible, to stay at

home.

At the beginning I did not take these warnings too seriously, as the media

dramazes such topics very oen. I went back to my oce, as I had two

interviews on my schedule for the aernoon. Both interview partners

cancelled at short noce because they were ill. I realized that the warnings

on TV might not have been as unfounded as I thought, and decided to leave

the oce earlier than usual. Teachable as I was, I avoided the underground

and made my way back home by foot. During my walk through the city, I

saw that the Christmas illuminaon already hang in the streets. I thoughtthat maybe - in a few years - they might begin with decoraon as early as

July.

More than one hour later, I arrived at my own four walls, red and freezing.

As a rst thing, I leaped into the shower in order to defrost. I spent the rest

of the day with a good book, the polical thriller The Hunt for Red

October wrien by Tom Clancy. It was a great tome which fascinated me

unl late in the evening. In the wise foresight that the next day might

become very long, I allowed myself a few more than the usual six hours of

sleep.

Normally I have a very deep sleep, but in that night, the sounds of the

howling sirens of emergency vehicles on the roads woke me up mulple

mes. I even heard a few helicopters in the air. The night was unusually

busy. I spontaneously thought there might have been a really bad accident

on the highway.


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Day 2: Supplies

Six oclock. As on an ordinary morning the alarm clock pulled me too early

from the dream world. Aer all I could nd at least a few hours of sleep

despite the many interrupons. But something was dierent this morning.

Through the soundproof panes of the window came an unusual, dull noise.

It was a complete mess of dierent sounds that I could not assign at the

beginning. I got out of bed, went to the window facing the street and pulled

the curtain. I could not believe my eyes, thought I was in the wrong movie.

What was happening outside my window could have been right out of a

Hollywood blockbuster from Roland Emmerich. The streets were clogged

with solid lines of cars and trucks. It went neither forward or backward,even emergency personnel such as reghters and ambulances were stuck.

Many drivers let their frustraon run free by honking gratuitously. Passersby

besieged the shops, although most of them did not open before nine

oclock. There were tumultuous crowds. Forces of the police were

everywhere on the streets, but without a chance to calm down the angry

people. To brave the cold and the snow which fell overnight, even some

trash cans were set on re. I realized that something terrible must have

happened and reached for the remote control of my TV. No maer which

TV staon I chose, there were special programs running on every channel,

speaking about a naonal emergency. The u virus was much more

aggressive than it was assumed and spread unusually fast during the last

hours. Hospitals are overcrowded, trac collapsed and public transport can

no longer be used. Many people have already died; there was talk of several

hundreds. The message that the virus has already been detected in Canada

hit me even worse. They talked about the possibility that the disease could

develop into a global pandemic; a horrible idea.

The United States government declared a state of naonal emergency; one

should not leave the house if possible. The only excepon: The supply of

essenal resources; especially food, water and hygiene items. The state of

emergency explained the absurd scenario that was going on outside my

window. I had to act quickly and to stock up for the next days with all

necessies. I got dressed rapidly and went down to the street.


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Not only because of the cold, but above all for safety, I put a scarf around

my neck, so that I was able to turn it into a respiratory protecon within just

a few seconds. Then I was oered a scene of destrucon. The highly

anxious, panicked crowds violently obtained access to the grocery stores.

They smashed shop windows; some mannequins served as the instrumentof advanced destrucon. The shops were looted in no me and everyone

was trying to stock up with as many emergency reserves as possible.

I had to try to get enough supplies and all necessies to survive for the next

days as well; my fridge was empty regularly. Therefore my priority was given

to food, water and some anbiocs. But despite the sll rather early

morning hours, I seemed to come too late. The big stores in my street were

already looted empty. Thats why I decided to try my luck at a small shop,

which I was hoping was not known to the majority, since it was located a

lile o in a narrow side street. Aer a few minutes through a New York

that appeared like a war zone, I reached the alley with the market. But I

should not have any luck. The store was not sacked, but locked up. In

addion, massive metal bars in front of the only shop window prevented

the violent entering. Disappointed, I wanted to connue my journey in

search of supplies; then suddenly a hand grabbed me from behind on myshoulder.

Frightened as I was, I turned around and looked in the exhausted, wrinkled

face and red, glassy eyes of an older man. As a precauon I pulled the scarf

over mouth and nose, pushed the stranger a fair way o from me. He waved

his hand, told me in a low voice that he was the owner of the store and

because of the reports in the media, he wanted to protect his business

against looters. Just as I began to describe him my situaon, three shady

guys came towards us, surrounded the man and me. They had overheard

our conversaon and asked the older gentleman unambiguously to open up

his shop. The shopkeeper made clear that he would not fulll this demand;

a big mistake. One of the three stroke out and punched the man in his

stomach. Accompanied by a dull moan, he hit the ground and did not move

anymore. I wanted to calm down these guys, but only seconds later, they hit

the back of my head. Then I fainted.


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Aer regaining consciousness, the three guys fortunately have disappeared,

but the shop was opened up and looted. Even worse, the shopkeeper lay

moonless next to me on the oor. Having had a humming skull, I bent over

the man and tried to shake him awake. When I tried to turn him on the side,

I noced that a knife stuck in his back. He was dead. The bastards stabbedhim. I was shocked, could hardly breathe and felt like I was strangled.

Desperate and in spite of the awareness that one can no longer help the

man, I tried to drop an emergency call via mobile phone. No chance, the net

was completely overloaded; it was not possible to think of a stable

connecon.

At that moment I realized that it now was about more than withstanding

some dicult days; in fact it was about pure survival. Emoonally, I was

completely overwhelmed at this moment. I desperately needed supplies,

even if I could never exceed certain moral limits. Before I entered the store,

or what was le of it, I covered the old man with his jacket. That was the

least I could do for him. Then I devoted myself to gather the bare necessies

for the next few days. On the wall in the store hung a clock; it was aer half-

past one, so I was unconscious for a few hours. Fortunately, there was more

on the shelves than the murderers could carry. I found a few boles ofwater and enough food to make ends meet at least a week. Unfortunately,

in regard to anbiocs, I got nothing. In addion to two plasc bags, I also

took a backpack with me and made my way home jam-packed.

The way back was denitely not easy to accomplish. Again and again

desperate passersby asked me to share my capture with them, but I could

not aord sympathy aer this crazy morning. I saw the desperaon in the

eyes of the people, but now it was me to think of myself and secure my

survival.

Aer arriving in my apartment, I wanted to ll the fridge with food, but

what was that? The light in the refrigerator was not working and I could not

hear the typical hum of the cooling unit as well. Did the power fail? Indeed.

Television, telephone, stove, all dead. The radiators were only lukewarm;

the central heang did of course fail as well. What a big mess in this icy cold.

Luckily I sll had an open replace in the living room and enough wood for a

few days. Aer a hot meal out of a can, I had to think of my grandparents.


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Did they have enough to eat? Were they safe at all? Were they alive? These

thoughts racked my brain. Reaching them on short term was impossible in

any case. I would have had no chance to get through on the streets. No

landline calls without electricity, and the mobile network was overloaded or

dead; I just did not know. Anyway, I turned o my smartphone some meago, hoping that the remaining juice in the baery could sll be somehow

useful.

I decided to spend the rest of the aernoon in front of the replace, in my

warm and cozy bivouac, covered with a blanket. The past morning oered

so many terrible experiences that I had to deal with. Absorbed in my

thoughts and trying to come to terms with what I experienced, I fell asleep

at some point.


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Day 3: Family

In the middle of the night I was awakened by footsteps. It was pitch black,

but at the lower edge of the door to my apartment, I saw a blaze which

must have come from a ashlight. Suddenly there were some voices. I

barely understood a word, but at least I could pick up something about

quaranne and Zone B. I was anxious and hid under my blanket. Aer a

few seconds the voices and the gleam of light were gone. Concentrated, I

heard a while towards the door, unl I nally fell back to sleep. The next

morning I was awakened by the cold that found its way into my apartment.

The re went out overnight, of course, and I shivered. The every morning

shower fell out for good reason, the combinaon of ice-cold water and a felt

room temperature of below the freezing point, did not sound convincing.

The plan for the day was to visit my grandparents to see if they were doing

well, or if they were alive at all. This made me so thoughul that I simply

could not ignore it. I had to take the risk and made me into the unknown

with a lile food, some water and warm clothes.

Outside, there was a completely contrarian scenario compared to

yesterday's chaos. The streets were deserted. There was a decepve

silence, abandoned cars on the streets, empty, looted stores, burning

garbage cans, light snowfall, luckily no wind. It was cold anyway. In the

distance I saw two soldiers patrolling the streets; apparently the military

was own in overnight and should now provide for peace. A few helicopters

circled in the sky at a safe distance. One carried a large box that was

hanging on a rope. I spontaneously thought that it might transport life-

saving vaccines and everything would return to normality within a few days,

so that one would forget the cruel experiences of these days. However, the

realist inside me buried that hope quickly. Suddenly I heard shots. Four guys

with assault ries ran towards the soldiers, shot them, took their equipment

and disappeared as quickly as they had shown up. Reexively, I took to my

heels and hid myself in the next side street between two dumpsters. I could

not believe what had to be le of morality and humanity, aer only a few

days and was amazed at how quickly the world could lead into disaster.

Now I had to travel about 30 miles to the house of my grandparents. First, I

made my way through numerous backyards and carefully maintained


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gardens; I made good progress. The further I moved away from the city

center, the safer I felt. There was also no sign of military presence. I saw a

few people on the streets, but they always kept a safe distance. No one

wanted to take the risk to get infected.

Aer about two hours of walking I reached a highway that would take me

directly to my family in the suburbs. To cover all the way on foot would be

impossible on a single day; not even thinking about the way back.

Fortunately, there were a lot of abandoned cars around. I tried to nd one

that was sll running. However, in most vehicles, the fuel tanks have already

been emped. Besides food and water, gasoline and diesel were the

currently most valuable assets and therefore parcularly popular among

looters. I wanted to give up disappointed but then I saw a snow covered van

standing in a driveway. It was not locked and the engine started right aer

the second aempt nally I once was lucky. Despite some obstacles on the

highway I made good progress. On my trip I hardly met other people. I had

planned to count them, but I did not get far. The poor result aer more than

25 miles: Three cars, one minibus and exactly eleven passersby. Where were

all the other people? Entrenched in their homes? The last mile I had to walk

again, a roadblock prevented the onward journey. Before I got out of thevan, I glanced in the glove box and was surprised once more. Inside, there

was a blank polished revolver as well as a map of New York and the

surrounding area. Actually, I am strictly against weapons, but with the world

being on the brink and considering the events of the last two days, its easy

to throw one or the other principle overboard. The revolver and the map

vanished into my jacket pocket.

The closer I got to my grandparents' house, the stronger was this strange

feeling that something might not be right. I really was worried. They indeed

were not the youngest anymore, but hale and hearty, not rusty. But

everyone knows that when it comes to infecous diseases, small children

and the elderly are most at risk. I told myself again and again that

everything was okay and tried to think posively. From a distance I could

already see the house, the blinds were down, and the Star -Spangled Banner

was blowing in the wind solely. Everything seemed shuered. The frontdoor of the house next door was open. As I got closer, I heard suspicious


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noises coming from the bungalow. Carefully, I took a look inside, put my

hand into the pocket of my jacket and grabbed the revolver. A loud rumble

ran through the silence, a shy cat escaped from the house. Presumably she

was startled more than me. My hand, which francally held the shoong

iron, slowly relaxed again. A moment later I stood in front of the door of mygrandparents house. I was as excited as on the rst day of school. My head

was completely empty. I knocked on the door. No reacon. I knocked

harder; sll no reacon. I shouted for my grandmother, but the only thing

that was happening, was the shaking of a curtain on the rst oor of the

other neighbor's house. But even aer some me of waing and further

knocking aempts, there was sll no reacon. A queasy feeling came over

me, so I tried it through the garden at the back door.

Although it was winter, you could already see at a quick glance, with how

much love and devoon my grandmother took care of the garden. Even

without owers or foliage you could recognize the accurate cut shapes of

hedges and bushes easily. A few steps further, I stood in front of the pao

door.

To my surprise, it was not locked, so I entered the house cauously and

stood in the living room. It was died up; everything was in its place, just as I

had remembered it. My search led me further through the kitchen and the

bathroom, without any trace of my grandparents. Seconds later, I stood in

the hallway in front of the stairs to the rst oor. A careful Hello? directed

upwards unfortunately remained unanswered. Worried and anxious not to

cause unnecessary noise, I slowly followed the stairs to the rst oor. With

each step, the queasy feeling in my stomach grew. Actually, it was already

clear that something was not right, but being in such a situaon I refused to

believe it. Aer arriving on the rst oor, I stood before the door to the

bedroom. A slightly musty smell was in the air, I did prepare myself for the

worst.

I carefully grabbed the door handle and knocked soly with the other hand.

I did not know why, but I thought it was just right at this moment. Pressing

down the handle, I slowly opened the door. When it was open about half a

meter, I stretched my upper body through the gap and peeked into the

room. Then I saw my grandparents lying in their bed, covered with a blanket


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and completely moonless. They were dead, presumably fell asleep

peacefully and never woke up again. I hoped they did not have to suer. At

that moment, I felt a deep pain in my chest, as if someone would ram a

knife in my heart. In disbelief of what I just had seen, I closed the door

again; I could no longer endure what I saw, thought I wasnt real. With tearsin my eyes and uer empness in the head, I went down the stairs back to

the living room. On the second last step I stopped and sat down; the elbows

on my knees, the head resng on my hands.

Slowly I began to realize that I now was completely on my own. My parents

died in a car accident. I was just two years old. My grandparents were

always there for me, they were my last family support. Actually, I had hoped

to get some words of good advice from grandma and grandpa about how to

survive this dicult situaon, but now all hope was gone. The rest of the

day I spent on the stairs, alone with my thoughts of my grandparents and

many tears.

Aer some me I calmed down a lile and was able to get a clear thought. I

wanted to provide my grandparents a dignied funeral, but it was

impossible to be realized in this chaos. So I decided to let them rest in their

bedroom for the next days and, as soon as the situaon would normalize to

some extent, to resume this plan.

It was already dark when I searched the other rooms for useful utensils. I

knew that the remaining juice in the baery of my smartphone and the

installed ashlight app would be good for something. I could nd some food

cans and an almost complete case of mineral water in the kitchen. The plan

was to take these supplies back home on the next morning. Although I sllhad some supplies le, but by the looks of it, I had to hold out longer than I

inially hoped. Then I lay down on the couch and wrapped myself in several

warm blankets; it was prey damn cold and I was sure to not even get a

wink of sleep during the whole night. But soon fague that came with the

sorrow overcame me, and I fell asleep.


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Day 4: Zone B

Again, I woke up in the middle of the night. I thought I heard voices again.

With the blankets pulled over my head, I did not dare to risk a single look,

but a few seconds later, the ray of a ashlight shine through my coon

protecve shield. Then there were clearly noceable voices, two in number,

male. They sounded very young. Fortunately, they seemed to not have

noced me yet. Based on the noise I could clearly locate them in the

kitchen. Obviously, I now had two opons: Waing under the blanket unl

the two would disappear again or surprising them in the kitchen. Luckily I

sll had the revolver in the pocket of my jacket. Carefully, I freed myself

from the blankets, stood up silently, and approached the kitchen. There

they stood, examining the wooden, white wall cupboards. They looked very

young; I guessed them to be in their early twenes at the utmost. I pulled

the revolver out of the pocket, pointed it at the larger one of the two guys

and gathered all my courage.

I welcomed the two boys with a determined: "Don move! Who are you and

what are you doing here? Startled, they turned around and looked at me,

saw my revolver and literally froze to pillars of salt. They probably were

assuming to be alone. I demanded an explanaon of who they were. The

smaller of the two guys was jusfying himself to me. They were brothers,

came from the neighborhood and sll lived in their parents house. The

family ran out of food. Without fuel in the tank of their car and several miles

to the nearest supermarket, they had no other opon but loong

supposedly abandoned homes during the night. The house of my

grandparents was not the rst one they visited this night. So far they had

been lucky, never got caught and never encountered the homeowner, told

me Mike. His bigger brother Jason kept himself discreetly in the background.

They did not want trouble. I put away the gun and we decided to connue

the conversaon in the living room on the couch at candlelight.

Then the two told me things I inially did not believe to be true. Meanwhile,

the whole world has been aected by this aggressive u virus. The order as

we knew it had collapsed. Millions of people lost their lives; the world was

descended into chaos. Mike told me about a conversaon between two

neighbors, which he had picked up the day before. It is believed that


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terrorists bred the virus in a laboratory and were responsible for the

pandemic. What movaon should be behind all this? To this queson he

had no answer. It was possible that even the criminals had no idea what

they bred and what would be triggered by this bizarre creaon. It made me

feel sick. I did not want to hear any further details.

I oered the brothers to take a part of the supplies with them. They were

very grateful, grabbed two bags full of food and beverages. When they le

the house, even Jason said a word. A quiet but honest -sounding Thanks. I

tried to fall asleep again, but the rest of adrenaline in my body knew to

prevent that eciently.

When the rst rays of sun hit the old-

fashioned 70's wallpaper on the livingroom walls, I also gathered together a few supplies and made me on my

way back home to my apartment, sll being prey red from the restless

night. I did not dare to take a further look into the bedroom, but I would

come back to enable my grandparents the promised funeral.

I le the house and locked the door. I was aware that this simple lock would

be no obstacle for even more looters, but it felt damn good to get back a

lile bit of order.

It was another ice-cold morning, but the sky was clear and blue, and the

sun's rays warmed my face. I almost thought, it was a normal day and the

last 72 hours would have been just a really bad nightmare. I le the

neighborhood on the same way as the day before, hoping the borrowed van

would sll wait for me at the same place right before the roadblock. It

actually stood there; I was lucky!

Aer about ten miles towards the city center, I saw military vehicles on the

road. Slowly I approached the soldiers. One of them waved to me and

shortly aerwards he called me via megaphone to stop the car next to him.

Apparently it was a kind of a trac control. I did not mean any harm,

followed his command and stopped the car in front of the soldier. At that

moment my biggest concern was that the soldiers could nd out that my set

of wheels was only borrowed. I hardly came to a halt, when they

screamed at me Get out, now. So I got out. Two soldiers with respiratory

masks grabbed my arms and pressed me against the van; I felt the cold of


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the B-pillar on my right cheek. They seemed to be interested only in me,

dedicated the car not even a single glance. Aer a short but thorough

search and taking away my revolver, they dragged me in direcon of a small

tent, which was set up next to the military vehicles. I had weak knees, but

then I saw a label on the side of the tent, a big red cross. I was relieved andthe feeling in my knees came back. In the medical tent they introduced me

to a military doctor. I do not remember his name, but for sure his brief but

concise explanaon of what purpose should be served by this acon:

Prevenng the further spread of the virus. In the past days one has tried to

seal o the town center as completely as possible, limit the spread and

isolate infected persons. The city should be healed from inside out. For this

purpose, quaranne zones have been established. Now one wants to

prevent that people from outside carry the virus in the city core again. At

least this was the plan of the government. Apparently, the doctor was not

really convinced, but as a member of the military, you follow commands,

you do not doubt them. He prepared a quick test, wiped with a test strip

over my forehead and hands. A few seconds later, the result of the test was

already available. He looked at me with a deep frown and waved the two

soldiers. Then everything went prey fast. They grabbed me again by the

arms and xated me. Surprised and nervously I asked what was going on.

The doctor said he was not sure, needs to give me a shot, but I should not

be worried. I was sure to be healthy, felt physically t, could not remember

myself to feel even one of the typical u symptoms. A feeling of anxiety

pierced bone and marrow. Before I could say anything else or defend

myself, I felt the needle of the syringe permeang my skin and fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was lying in a bed. Opposite to me there was a clock on

the wall. It was just before nine, I had slept for more than half a day. My

eyes wandered around the room. It seemed to me as if I were in kind of an

improvised hospital. Plasc curtains on the door, a disinfectant dispenser

right next to it. However, the furniture of the room appeared to be from a

hotel. I wanted to get up, but my hand was ed to the bed with a cable e.

Instead of panicking, I tested my body for any tubing for infusions and the

like; fortunately without success. However, I was wearing a strange

nightgown. I sll felt completely healthy, but very insecure because of the

doctors statement and wanted certainty. The door opened. A young


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woman in a white coat and respirator was approaching my bed. She said I

should have no fear, would be safe. I took the opportunity and asked her

where I was and how things stood with me and my health. She said she did

not have much me and, being a nurse, had to take care of many other

paents, but would give me a brief overview.

I learned that the result of the quick test outside the city was not

unmistakable. And because they did not want to take any risks, I was

brought here for further examinaon. Here this was the Plaza, right on

the edge of the Central Park. This luxury hotel has been transformed into

one of many quaranne facilies and is part of the so-called Zone B. While

I was asleep, further tests were made, but the results and hence the total

certainty about my condion would not be available unl the next morning.

The nurse le me a bole of water, a paper cup and a sleeping pill. She said

it would be beer to rest for the night rather than racking my brain about

the pending test result. I decided to take the pill and fell asleep a few

moments later.


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Day 5: Enrollment

The morning aer I was awakened by the medical round and was not really

awake, but knew that the following diagnosis could decide on my life. So I

did my best to concentrate on the words of the doctor.

His name was Woolsey, as he introduced himself to me; the typical name

tag on his white coat was missing. His handshake was very rm, his voice

deep and sober. He made a decisive impression at rst glance. Beer that

way than any quack doctor, who beats around the bush, I thought.

The quick test was not unmistakable. It has been found a small number of

inuenza viruses on the test strip, but the number was not sucient to

detect a disease with certainty. For this reason you were moved here,

considering the quaranne requirements for naonal emergencies, and

subjected to addional tesng. Yesterday, we have taken a blood sample;

the result has been available since a few minutes. I have good news for you.

We could not detect the dangerous virus in your blood; you are healthy. We

assume that you must have had contact with infected recently, which is why

a few inacve viruses stuck to your hands and the forehead. explained doc

Woolsey.

Suddenly I had to think of my grandparents, the virus cells must have come

from the doorknob of the bedroom door, what would explain everything.

But I did not tell him the story; I did not want to talk about it. I thanked him

sincerely for the good news; a huge weight was lied from my mind. The

next queson I wanted to ask him was, when I would be discharged from

hospital, but before I could ask him, he said: "You have to leave now, we

need every single bed." He sounded very harsh. Fortunately they washed

and even disinfected my clothes overnight.

Aer the medical round le my room, I got up and dressed in my own fresh

clothes. A look out of the window told me that I must have been at least on

the tenth oor and revealed the view on the Central Park. The usually very

popular aracon for locals and tourists was deserted. It was a truly bizarre

scene. Even more cars than the days before blocked the streets and piles of

garbage began to pile themselves. Within only a few days, New York City

transformed from a vibrant metropolis into a second Detroit. Then I walked


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into the hallway. In spite of the short me, the hotel was converted into a

fully funconal hospital. Among other, I spoed signs labeled X-Ray, OP

and ER. The laer seemed to be on the ground oor, as well as the exit.

The elevators were indeed funconal, but could only be used by the

personnel for paent transport. So I took the lile detour via the staircase.The ground oor looked like a baleeld. The emergency room lived up to

its name. The oor was covered with blood, wounded screamed panicked in

pain, at every corner was coughing and sniing, desperate relaves sat in

sort of a provisional waing room, separated only by curtains from the

scanty and anything but clinically clean treatment rooms. War could not be

worse. I was shielded from all this by a simple Plexiglas window, which

divided the foyer into two halves. So apparently one wanted to make sure

that you could not get infected.

When I arrived in the fresh air, I le the quaranne zone. As expected, it

was bierly cold and although I was innitely happy to be healthy and to be

able to go home, I somehow longed aer the warm bed in the Plaza. Aer a

few steps I turned around, saw the former hotel in its full glory. It was

wrapped by a huge tarpaulin with a cross on the front side and Zone B

leering at the corners. At a distance of about ten meters, they built abarrier of barbed wire fence around the hotel. Addionally, the area was

guarded by the military.

Then the weather turned. A stormy wind moved through the streets, huge

snowakes slapped me in the face while clouds of steam rose up over the

manhole covers. Despite the scarf in my face it was damn uncomfortable;

the way home seemed to be endless. The fall of the snow was so dense;

somemes you could not even see the next three houses. When I nally

approached my front door, I could see that something was scking to it. A

moment later I stood in front of the door and could not believe my eyes.

POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS was wrien on a yellow band, which was

aached to the frame and stretched across the door. I feared for my home,

my belongings, all that was le. At that moment I did not care about the

barrier, I tore o the tape and entered the house. I took the staircase step

by step and ulmately was on the rst oor, standing in front of the door ofmy apartment. I heard several voices from inside. I had the vague feeling


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that my apartment was occupied. Even if it should prove to be a mistake, I

opened the door without thinking and rushed in. I was confronted with

three gures in squalid clothes, my furniture was totally devastated.

One of the three came up to me and pushed me to the ground. The other

two drew their pistols. One of the two armed men stood next to me and

pointed the barrel of the gun at me. My heart was pounding like crazy. He

shouted at me, asked me what I wanted from him. Before I could answer

him, I heard a loud Weapons down and don't move! from the stairway.

The two guys with their weapons let up on me and aimed towards the door.

In that moment several shots in quick succession fell under deafening noise.

All three occupants were hit and went down to the ground. Pools of blood

formed on the laminate instantly. Then two more guys with machine guns

entered my apartment and looked at me, perceiving how paralyzed I was.

Don't worry, sir. We will not hurt you. We are here to help. said one of the

men. I did not know who they were, they did not wear uniforms, only had a

patch on the right sleeve of their jackets with a bird of prey and the leers

SHD as well as strange watches with luminescent rings. They tried to

reassure me, brought me a glass of water.

Then one of the men told me that they were eld agents of the Strategic

Homeland Division. The main dierence from any other agency,

organizaon or department was that the Division is a last resort measure. As

such, the members of the Division supersede any other operave, agent or

federal employee in the eld. They have a form of execuve power and

answer directly to the President. Another major point was that the Division

is a covert organizaon in peace me; its members are embedded within

society all across the naon, waing and preparing for acvaon. The

Division must ensure that the key infrastructures and people that remain

are protected. During their patrol they had heard the suspicious noises

coming from my apartment and saved me not a second too late. I was

relieved and surprised at the same me that such organizaons really

existed.

To ensure that I was not a troublemaker, they quesoned me and wanted to

hear my story. I told the agent from me and the experiences of the last ve

days. I think I have impressed them in a certain way. The taller of the two


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slapped me on the shoulder and wished me all the best. Gratefully, I

accompanied the two agents down to the front door of the building.

Aer arriving downstairs, they oered me to join them. They were looking

for reinforcement, and I would have a good chance of joining SHD, but had

to take some tests and a hard training before I would become a Division

agent. The idea appealed to me. I hesitated, but then I realized that I had

lost all that was important to me: My family, my home, my job, everything.

Only faith in humanity and a beer future remained. To go with them might

be the only way to really change something, to give my life meaning again. I

did not know what to expect or what risks I would take, but sll I decided

for the Division.

The only queson le is: What will it take to save what remains? This is

where my story begins.


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Dark Winter Prelude

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