What was so special about Obie?

She wasn't special at all.

Looking in the mirror, Obie was unique in the most awful ways.

Three years ago, the nineteen year old girl was 5'8 and 160 pounds, satisfying the BMI criteria like a pro. Her limbs were thick with a proportionate amount of fat and muscle. Her high melanin epidermis was smooth like polished surface and bright like her skin was naturally hydrated with Shea Butter. The only breaches were the in-grown hairs on her thighs and legs, leaving noticeable but normal patterns to her skin.

She was known for her hair the most. The kinks in her curls amazed people; tight like an untouched slinky. It was long to her waist when wet, but shrunk to her shoulders when dry. Her hair color was deemed more interesting than the gravity defying texture, because the tone was different. It was not black or black brown or "if I go under the sun, my hair is light" kind of deal. Obie's hair was the exact color of her mahogany skin tone.

She never thought she had the "best" body, but her parents constantly emphasized that her face was beautiful and boys loved personality over looks. Her breasts were C's and if it was possible, her ass could have been the same measure. She remembered wanting the big boobs, small waist and fat ass type of thing.

Her dad said promoting a certain body image was a social construct, where men had the upper hand of manipulating and abusing women without physically assaulting them. It eventually spread like a disease amongst the female gender. She should love herself because society's image of an acceptable body regularly changes and women are forfeiting their control of security to the man.

Though, this wasn't a man's world now. Three years later, there was still judgment on looks and without the men's consent or women's influence. What remained in the world was an internal struggle; like Obie was having currently.

She remembered how she looked in the past and cursed how she looked in the present.

Three years later, Obie lost her finest attributes. Smooth, clear skin. Healthy weight. Long curly hair that shrunk like dry sponge.

Just gone.

Obie was 5'8 and lost over 50 or 60 pounds. She went from having a healthy physique to her bones damn near scraping against each other. Her outer layer of skin hugged onto the lean muscles that defined over the bones to transform Obie into a skeleton. Her chest went from a C to an A and of course, she could measure her ass the same.

The smooth brown skin, she raved over, was tainted with multiple scars, including her small face. She tried to wear long sleeve shirts and full coverage jeans. But she accepted those self-conscious thoughts as bothersome and groundless against the state of the nation. No one would care.

The beautiful large mane she had, a brilliant Afro to rival a lion, was lost in the memories of the past. The carefulness she adopted in fostering each strand, in avoidance of single strand knots or breakage was gone. The essential role of applying her leave in conditioner, cream and oil sealing routine, was gone too. The way of living became a threatening rivalry against her natural hair. The high maintenance to live was exceedingly vital. Thus, painfully, Obie cut down her hair till it reached two inches above her scalp. It was dry, itchy and broke off on its own.

She was a hot mess. The bags under her eyes evolved to natural aesthetic. The top of her ruby colored lips had a scar at the corner. Eyebrows bushier than ever, because evidently, there weren't any nail salons available to wax the disrespectful hairs into shape. The one feature Obie took from the past into today was her eyes; mahogany brown, like her skin and hair, with specks of bright green lines within the iris. They were just like her mother's.

So what's special about Obie?

Why was she attracting an infected person who had to feed to live?

Why was she also attracting an infected child who was ruthless too?

She shivered, remembering the feeling of someone's spine on her fingers.

She had enough to think about. Now she couldn't help but ponder if the little monster was killing people to bring their body parts to her.

Obie knew her looks were far from the truth of the question. Nothing was special about her there. If her assumption of Logan being gay was found to be ignorant, she doubt he'll even give her a second look.

She was afraid their interests were innate. Perhaps, Obie's internal physicality was familiarizing with these two vampires. Maybe she was turning.

Obie clapped her cheeks to snap her back into reality. "I'm sorry, B. I spaced out."

She was cross legged on her uncle's bed, eating a can of peas and two ketchup packets. To her surprise, she wasn't really hungry, but that was stress talking. Burrito was eating a pile of dead crickets she found in her uncle's drawers. He used to feed his bird with it.

Obie chewed, staring at the empty bird cage. He loved his bird, Keri. He wouldn't leave Keri alone. She checked the entire house and couldn't find any bones. She couldn't find remains of her uncle either.

He must have left.

She bit her lip, in replace of cursing out loud. "Son of a bitch."

It didn't work.

He must have left, but could have been killed.

She smiled at the imagination.

Though, she would benefit most if he was alive.

"Should we look around one more time?" Obie leaned on her side and drank the black peas juice. "I don't want to either."

Besides Little Monster showing up at her window, Obie had an uneventful day.

She searched the house through and through and found nothing but packaged food.

Nothing was here.

But before, she thought her own house was squeaky clean.

She had to look again.

Obie surveyed the house again, zeroing in on the most suspicious places.

Speaking of, she forgot to look under the bed.

She swallowed, while using her hips to swing her legs off the bed and bending her knees on the floor. She turned her head to the side and spotted a box.

She tapped the box with a rusting hanger.

"Shit, I think it's empty." Obie retrieved the box and peeped inside. "Yup empty."

Picking up the box, a paper floated from the bottom to her thigh.

It read.

Should be kept refrigerated (Epigenetics Lab)

What was Epigenetics?

"I don't know." She answered her own question out loud.

Burrito peeked over the bed and instinctively, Obie swiped her hand gently across her head.

"Dead end again." Obie said. "We can check the basement for the millionth time."

Obie wished they didn't have to.

She tried Logan's strategy. Searched in the places she wasn't allowed to be in as a child. Anything uncle George scolded her for, she finally raided through with the utmost disgust and anticipation. Every book was thrown off its shelf. Every CD bounced and cracked on the ground. Every playboy magazine...ew...was ripped and torn to pieces. Every lamp was pulled and smashed. Every button was pressed.

Everything was pulled, smashed, destroyed, flipped, and thrown to open up the gate to a mysterious laboratory. Her volatile search failed.

There was nothing else to do.

Obie detected a series of knocks.

She sighed. "Stay here. B."

Hesitantly, Obie trotted downstairs with her hand on her hip and inches from the gun in its hoister.

There was Little Monster, who was wide eyed and rocking side to side in excitement. As long as it didn't attack her, she could deal with a happy vampire. She hoped the Little Monster's infatuation would die out.

Her confidence was shaky as she approached the window and slightly pulled it up. She had to remember the child was an unpredictable vampire. Not only that, she could smell her old friend mister vampire nesting in the area.

It would be a strange coincidence if they were friends.

Obie scoffed.

Vampires can't be friends.

"Oh wow." Obie held her palm up towards Little Monster's mouth. "A finger this time..."

The finger dropped into her hand.

"Thanks."

Little Monster bent his head low.

Obie set the finger aside and patted it. He let out a squeaky moan in comfort.

Little Monster nudged her hand away before jumping from the garbage can clumsily and landing on his face. Unaffected from the fall, he sprinted to the streets.

"This is crazy." She murmured.

The garbage can wobbled side to side and at last, fell.

Obie was about to bust out in a run to find comfort in Burrito. Up till, a file box, beside the garbage can, caught her attention.

Could be empty.

Or could have vital information.

Did she want to take the chance at night?

Nope.

Should she?

Yeahhh.

Obie snagged the VBV, triggered the gas, threw one leg out the window, and then the next. Hopping down, Obie slipped and fell on her back.

"Ow." She raised the VBV in the air to keep incoming vampires from invading her space.

Wincing, Obie sat up.

There was a quick shuffling in the grass.

"Um...Hi." Obie said as she saw Little Monster's head peek from the tall weeds, curiously. Thankfully, the thing kept its distance because of the VBV.

"Let's get this done." Obie removed the covering.

Of course, there was nothing.

Fucking perfect.

Placing her hand on the dirty sack, the garbage bag sunk in and her body fell forward.

Jeez, she was clumsy tonight.

Obie started to molest the black latex skin and squeezed to get an idea of the materials inside. Her hands drifted to the adjacent bags to the feel the similar papery textures and paucity of stench, which excited her inner Nancy Drew.

Obie elevated each bag through the window, carefully pressing it against the wall and releasing them inside the house.

Little Monster stepped closer as the VBV shifted.

She double checked its movements.

Better hurry this up.

Obie pulled her body over the window and slid onto the garbage bags like bean bag chairs. She scrambled upwards, shutting the window; as if the vampire couldn't shatter the glass with one punch.

Obie already had one VBV out.

No need to waste another.

Little Monster ran back into the street, uninterested.

She closed her eyes in relief. "Okay, let's do this again."

For 30 minutes, Obie organized unimportant bullshit in one pile and possible important shit into one prioritized pile. She had to segregate the shredded files from the intact paper sheets, which earned her a couple paper cuts. There were burnt pieces sprinkled throughout the garbage bag that dusted on her skin.

She finished the last of the papers, crushing the bags into irregular balls.

Looking down on her new prearranged project, Obie apprehended more papers were in the unimportant pile than important. But, there was still a pile awaiting her diligent hunt.

Reading through a scientist's handwriting was as bad as reading a doctor's signature. Once she read past the horrible penmanship, she discovered lab reports.

Apparently, other than creating a killer vaccine, he was investigating the importance of dopamine levels in the brain in a model of autism. His younger patients, diagnosed with autism, had a series of reports, which he left in garbage. How unfortunate.

He probably assumed his findings didn't matter, because he was about to destroy the United States.

Obie proceeded to skim through the documents.

"Eureka." She said, spotting what she liked to see.

Obie saw a heavy folder labeled AIV. The four corners of the folder were burnt black, but luckily, the majority was unscathed.

The first paper she pulled out was a newborn baby.

She started to pull out one photo after the other photo. Photos of newborns and photos of teens. She was positive some of these were the same children. And as Obie peered on the back, she recognized the "E00000" labels.

They were the experiments.

Only a handful.

One caught her eye.

A paper clip attached about five photos to five sheets of documents with a significant amount of red penmanship. It had to be details of the same child. These photos were perfectly stacked in a pile of attachments unlike the other scattered documented pictures.

The first image was a newborn baby on a lab table with tubes hooked into the nostrils. The document behind it basically explained the well condition of the child. The race, name, gender and the parents' names were written as inconclusive. The words written on the dotted lines claimed the baby was in good health and successful after the delivery. In bright red ink, there was an order in the bottom to draw blood immediately and authorized by a bunch of signatures.

Signed by Liam Brock. Devon Darby. George Moore. Osier Holloway.

Date: 3/21/2002

She frowned.

The second photo was a five year old child.

Obie observed the face.

She thought it was the same child. Adorable too.

The child had an olive brown tan that went along with his black long hair. The mane was tightened in a ponytail, emphasizing his chubby face and big blue eyes. This document solidified the child as a male, four years old, and healthy.

She held her breath once discovering the name of the child.

E000002.

Obie touched the photo.

The child had the blanket she found in her basement in his little grip.

She gulped.

The end had an authorization to initiate the first order of Recombinant DNA in advancement towards the Artificial Intelligence Vaccine.

Signed by: Liam Brock. Devon Darby. George Moore. Osier Holloway.

Date: 3/21/2007

The poor baby.

She took a deep breath before continuing.

Next were pictures of reddened eyeballs, slit like pupils, and the incisors grown into fangs. The document claimed the child was ten years old and other medical stuff she couldn't understand. His white blood cell count, thought to be beneficial for fighting off inner infections or viruses, was abnormally high. Elevated white blood cells should indicate a serious infection in the body, but his white blood cell count existed perfectly on its own without being an effect of a present infection or emotional and physical stress. Slit pupils and eye testing indicated the child's field of vision advanced to capture different colors of light. The growing incisors were properties of reptilian DNA.

The end authorized for the child to be removed from his room to the Brazilian Amazon prototype center. He was to be watched for observational data in animal interaction and environmental adaptions.

As in the jungle? They put this child in a room that replicated a jungle?

Obie cursed.

Signed by: Liam Brock. Devon Darby. George Moore.

Date: 03/21/2013

Wait. Obie stopped.

Her dad didn't sign.

Obie ignored the other photos and flipped through the bottom of the papers to look at the increasing date and signatures.

Her father last signed in 2007.

If only she could show Logan.

She knew it. Her father must have stopped participating with the other doctors around 2007, which was why the lab was empty.

However, her dad will never be innocent. In any of this.

Although, she had more questions as she looked at the previous photos.

Slit pupils. Fangs. Strong immune system.

These characteristics sounded pretty familiar in today's world. Also, they were present under the supervision of three scientists who weren't her father.

Obie chewed on her lip, uncertain of her new discovery.

She wanted to look into the documents in detail before trying to focus her suspicion on the other doctors.

Obie skipped to the last document. It claimed the boy was supposedly fourteen years old. Behavior: showing signs of aggression and sudden calmness. Food was an attribute. Physically: sensitive to light, can lift over 1000 pounds, climb walls efficiently. Cognition; slowly declining. Must be taught constantly to help with memory. Then, there were other readings like keeping chalk away from him or it'll trigger an episode. Highlighted in red; virus transmission failed. Surgery successful.

The end authorized for the next virus to be tested.

Signed by Liam Brock. Devon Darby. George Moore.

Date: 3/21/2016

No dad.

"So where's the photo?" She mumbled.

Obie lifted the paper in the air and a small photo fell out of nowhere.

"There it is."

Obie turned the photo upside down.

She choked on her spit in disbelief.

Is that...

Is that...

She flashed her light on the photo.

Couldn't be.

It looked just like the vampire.

Obie should have been amazed. The coincidence was one in a million, but she somehow got lucky with the chances. Her assumption could have been wrong and lacked any accuracy, so she shouldn't put her faith in it. On the other hand, the resemblance was uncanny.

As Obie gazed at the photo longer, the amazement had yet to arrive. Replacing the astonishment was an overwhelming sense of guilt and sadness for the child he once was. Also, for the vampire he was now.

She clenched her eyes. "God damn it, dad."

A/N: You guys get a clear picture of what Obie looks like. Usually in apocalyptic movies or books, the main female character is somehow ruggedly beautiful or just beautiful. I couldn't do that, because Obie had to look like she struggles cause the girl does. Doesn't mean she's not pretty. Just different than how she was before. Anyways, Obie finds out E000002 is the vampire and that's his blanket? So what's with the pills? Is her father somehow redeemed based on what she found? What will Obie's guilt lead her to do?

Vote, comment, enjoy and let me know what you think!