Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Chronical ❯ Wake Up ( Chapter 1 )

DISCLAIMER: I do not own DBZ, but all characters that I create are my own.

 

Author Note: Just an idea I've had for a while. It's loosely inspired by 'The Stand' by Stephen King. This is a Vegeta/Bulma story but is very post-apocalyptic in it's setting. Love in the ruins and all that...In other news, if you happen to read my fic 'Slave', I have finally worked out the ending and shall be writing the next few chapters soon!

 

 

 

File 109: The Chronical Virus

 

Compiled by Dr. Gero

 

Nobody knew where the Chronical disease came from, and for a long time nobody thought to wonder…By the time people did start asking questions, it was far too late to stop it. It was a virus like no other the world had ever seen. The first few cases reported were in America and Europe, but within days of the first few cases other reports were coming in from Africa, the Middle East, Asia and Australia. They were reports of a deadly sickness that was like no other ever seen.

 

The primary symptoms of this virus were the same symptoms of the influenza: headaches, dizziness, nausea, muscular cramps in the legs, respiratory problems, fevers, and blurred vision. However, after a week in this state the virus would worsen and the infected victim would show the secondary symptoms: hallucinations, high fevers, light and sound sensitivity, and rashes varying in color depending on which form of the Chronical virus the victim was infected with. The rash would appear on the victim's body, usually beginning in the face and upper arms and spreading from there.

 

Within two months of the first onset of the virus over two billion people were dead and a worldwide crisis had been declared. Houses were quarantined, and then streets, then towns, until finally entire states and sometimes countries were quarantined. It was, however, all in vain. The Chronicle virus was unlike any other form of virus ever before found, and preventing its spread was impossible.

 

Three months after the first reported case it became known that there were three different strains of the Chronical virus.

 

Chronical 1 was known to be the worst of the three. It caused a bright red rash in the face of its victims and the survival rate of this particular strain was less then one percent. To those who contracted this strain, it was a virtual death sentence.

 

Chronical 2 was the most common strain and it caused a black rash in the face of its victims. This strain, common though it was, was limited in it's spread and occurred only in America and Asia.

Chronical 3 caused a bluish rash in the face and arms of its victims. It was the least common of the 3 strains, but it had the highest survival rate.

 

Of course, by the time the government had established that there were three different strains, there weren't enough people left to do anything about it. Within a year of the first reported case more then 98% of Earth's population had been killed by the virus. Those that survived either had a natural immunity to the virus, or had somehow managed to recover from the virus before much damage was done. The victims of the Chronical virus were marked by their ordeals and a terrifying similarity was quickly identified between survivors of a certain strain.

 

Those who survived from Chronical 1 were left with a red-rash shaped like a triangle on their face that stretched from their jaw up to the eyelid, with the tip usually ending somewhere above the eyebrow. The survivors of Chronical 2 were left with black squares or diamonds around their eyes and those who recovered from Chronical 3 were marked either with a small blue triangle on a cheek, or blue stripes on their upper arms, occasionally both.

 

The markings were almost like a signature...

 

 

 

Wake up…

 

Instantly Vegeta was awake, or at least he thought he was. The ability to think and reason returned with a snap, but his body was slow to follow. Slowly, far more slowly then he should have, Vegeta surfaced from what felt like a deep sleep; his aching body forcing its way through thick syrupy unconsciousness as he struggled to wake. His breath rasped in his throat as if he'd just ran a marathon and his head thumped painfully in time to his heartbeat - he hurt. He hurt so badly. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, he opened his eyes focusing with great difficulty on the ceiling above. His entire body felt thick and slow - his movements were jerky and rough when he tried to wipe his blurry eyes.

 

Get up…

 

"Hello?" Vegeta coughed as his voice wheezed in his throat and came out a strangled whisper, barely audible.

 

His body convulsed and he clutched at his chest as he struggled to breathe more slowly. Eventually the pain faded and, gritting his teeth with effort, he managed to drag his body upright and sit up in bed, rubbing muscles that ached with stiffness, aware that he was panting from the heat…was it hot? He felt hot…as if he were melting…He had to get cool…Vegeta closed his coal black eyes and swayed unsteadily as the need for water roared through his body, overriding the pain he still felt dwelling in his body.

 

Instinctively he reached for the glass of water he always left by his bed, his hand fumbled and finally grasped the cool glass and he lifted it his mouth, greedily gulping down the water. His hand trembled unsteadily and the water - water that tasted stale and old - dripped down his chin and splattered on his chest. Vegeta opened his eyes again, not remembering when he'd closed them, and winced as he glanced towards the window only to have the faint light burn his eyes. He blinked several times as he concentrated on putting the empty glass back on the bedside table, forcing his body to cooperate. After a few more minutes of blinking his eyes, he succeeded in adjusting them enough so that it wasn't quite so painful for him to look around.

 

Vegeta felt his entire body become unnaturally still as he realized he wasn't in his bedroom as he had assumed…so where the hell was he? It was a bedroom, but it wasn't his own room and since the curtains had been pulled tight there was no way of looking outside…although, with his eyes in their current form, looking outside probably wasn't the best thing to do. Even the faint light streaming between the curtains made his head thump with pain.

 

"Hello?" Vegeta tried to speak again and was more and less successful this time. He was more successful in that the water had loosened his vocal cords and he could now speak with his chest and throat spasming, however his voice was low and hoarse and the sound of it sent splinters of pain racing through a different part of his body; his head.

 

Panting with pain and clutching his ears and head, Vegeta fell back against the sweaty sheets of the bed and tried to listen for a reply. He strained to hear and through the thumping of his head he could hear sounds - the ceiling fan slowly spinning above him and more distantly the ticking of a clock…but nobody, it seemed, was around to answer his call.

 

Kami...what had happened to him and where was he?

 

Suddenly and inexplicably Vegeta felt chillingly alone. He struggled with panic as it rose in his chest and slowly counted back from ten - using breathing techniques to calm himself down. He had no reason to panic…not yet.

 

What had happened? He could remember the street that Capsule Corp was on being quarantined with several outbreaks of a new disease that seemed to have the government mildly worried - the Chronical virus they had called it. But the authorities had told them not to panic and had assured them that they would all be fine and that the outbreak wasn't bad. But…they'd lied to them. He could remember Bulma's mother getting sick and being taken away by some suited-up government officials who claimed that they had developed an experimental treatment for the Chronical virus…but he and Bulma hadn't seen her mother again. They hadn't seen many people after that at all.

 

He'd focused on training and staying fit while Bulma cared for her father who had come down with Chronical. They'd had men from the government around several times to monitor them but they hadn't taken Bulma's father like they had her mother. Then one day the government men had stopped coming and not long after Bulma had become sick…and then…he could remember feeling ill and…nothing.

 

Vegeta swam back from his thoughts and swallowed hard. He could remember the splitting headache and the nausea of the original onset, but everything after that was a blur to him. He focused on the room he was in once more and almost sighed with relief - Bulma's room. He was in Bulma's room...but where was she?

 

A chill worked his way down his spine as he realised that the silence in the house stretched outside the house as well. He couldn't here traffic or children or animals...nothing. It was as though the entire world had flicked it's off switch and nothing was left but him.

 

Bulma had to be alright...didn't she? Just because he was alone in her room didn't mean that something terrible had happened to her. Kami, he couldn't even remember how he had got to her room or how long ago that had been.

 

Vegeta eased himself back up into a sitting position. If the virus was worse than they'd told them - if it was responsible for the silence around him there would have to be some sign of what had happened. And surely Bulma, who was the strongest and bravest human he knew, would somehow have made it through as well.

 

Groaning with effort, he managed to stand up and forced his shaky legs to walk across the room, taking it one step at a time. He opened the door and squinted against the light, which shone in through the hallway window.

 

"Bulma?" He whispered her name, unwilling to shout for fear that he would trigger off that horrible pain in his head again.

 

He slowly made his way to down the hallway, checking each room as he went. All the rooms were empty except the last room where he could see a shape lying in one of the spare beds. Vegeta paused by the doorway and rested against the door for several seconds before slipping inside.

 

He wasn't afraid. He'd seen death before...Kami, had he seen death before. But to lose Bulma...

 

"Bulma?" he whispered again, holding onto the door handle as the room rocked round him.

 

"Vegeta?" Her voice was faint and threaded with pain…She sounded so confused…

 

The Saiyan prince made his way unsteadily to her bed and looked down at her. Her blue hair was flat and lifeless, plastered to her face with dried sweat. Her lips were cracked and her eyes were closed, her forehead creased in pain.

 

"You alright?" He sank down onto her bed and reached for her hand, which was curled into a fist. He'd never treated anyone so gently in his life but Bulma was...special. Their relationship might have been based more on lust than love, but it was a relationship nonetheless and Vegeta would be damned if he'd let any harm come to her. She was his.

 

"Do I look alright?" Her voice was weak, but had its usual flare of sarcasm to it. Vegeta managed to smile to himself. The woman would be alright if she had enough strength to use sarcasm on him.

 

"Actually, you look pretty awful." Vegeta muttered truthfully as he caught sight of a jug of water a cup on he bedside table. He poured a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table and gulped it down before pouring another and passing it to Bulma.

 

"I don't think I can drink it." Bulma opened her eyes, hissed with pain, then closed them again.

 

"You have to, you're dehydrated and you'll get worse if you don't drink it."

 

"Probably."

 

Vegeta put the glass of water into her hand and helped her raise it to her lips. Bulma managed to swallowed a few mouthfuls before her whole body convulsed and she twisted away to be violently sick on the floor.

 

"Oh, Kami…" Bulma panted. "It hurts, Vegeta…I can't keep anything down and my whole body hurts."

 

"You'll be fine." Vegeta told her gruffly as he pulled her closer to him and helped her sit up. "Now we're going to try this again, okay? Just take a sip at a time." He raised the glass to her lips again and watched as she swallowed a little.

 

"That's good." He set the glass down on the bedside table and pushed Bulma's hair away from her face, for the first time noticing the red triangle shaped blotch slashed across her jaw. It looked like a cross between a rash and tattoo.

 

"What's wrong?" Bulma had noted the hesitation in his hands and she opened her eyes again, this time, like him, managing to keep them open by blinking and squinting.

 

"You have a red...rash on your face…" Vegeta touched it and noted that the skin was burning hot to the touch. He decided to change the subject. "Do you know if you're getting better or worse?"

 

"Better, I think." Bulma coughed violently "I can't remember much about being sick. I remember you came into my room and passed out and then I...I went to find someone but I only got as far as this room."

 

Vegeta nodded "That's good…I don't want you to die on me." He started to say more but stopped himself, settling for giving her a weak smirk.

 

Bulma reached for the glass and managed to take a sip herself, although her hands were shaking from muscle fatigue. She paused and looked around her. "Do you hear that?"

 

"What?"

 

"That." Bulma gestured around them.

 

"I don't hear anything."

 

"That's what I mean…I can't hear any traffic or people…Just, nothing." Bulma's eyes looked worried. "Oh God...is everyone sick? Is everyone dead?" Her voice took on a hysterical edge and she clutched at his arm desperately.

 

"Don't be stupid, woman! Of course other people survived." Vegeta stood up and looked around. "I'm sure everyone must be indoors…or at the hospital, or something."

 

"That doesn't make sense. They quarantined our street when families started getting sick so we should be able to hear the people who were left behind."

 

"Well, maybe they lifted the quarantine…Maybe they found a cure and that's why we both got better!" Vegeta nodded to himself. "That must be it."

 

Bulma looked doubtful. "I don't know…Why can't we hear anyone?"

 

"Maybe everyone is still getting over it like we are." Vegeta looked around Bulma's room, feeling more confident with every passing minute. "Do you have any sunglasses I could wear?"

 

"Sunglasses?" Bulma raised an eyebrow.

 

"So I can look outside without the light burning my eyes." Vegeta rolled his eyes. Did the woman think he just wanted to look 'cool' or some such thing?

 

"Oh, yeah, sure. Try in the second drawer over there." Bulma pointed at her dresser.

 

Vegeta opened the drawer, then, with open relief, pulled out two pairs of sunglasses and tossed a pair to Bulma. "What do you keep so many pairs with you for?" He put his own pair on and inwardly winced as he caught site of himself in a mirror. He looked stupid in the glasses; they were far too small for his head and were extraordinarily feminine in shape and color.

 

That hadn't been why he'd winced, no, he winced because he had a sliver of red rash slicing across his own cheek. The red rash, he recalled dimly, was one of the signs of the Chronical virus...he was sure.

 

Bulma put her own pair on and managed to giggle softly when she saw Vegeta in his. "Don't worry about them, 'Geta, at least they help your eyes."

 

Vegeta grumbled to himself. "At least I'm starting to feel better."

 

"Yeah, me too…Although, I still have a shocking headache. It feels like somebody is pounding on my head with a mallet." Bulma sank down into her blankets. "You go take a look around…I still don't feel well enough to move."

 

"Okay." Vegeta paused by the door of her room. "Don't die or anything while I'm gone."

 

"I won't."

 

"Promise?"

 

"Yeah, I promise I won't die." Bulma smiled weakly then took another sip of water as the saiyan prince slipped out the door.

 

"Dr Briefs? Anyone?" Vegeta walked as silently as he could towards Bulma's parents room, hesitating at the door and knocking softly. "Are you in there?" He slowly opened the door. "Hello?"

 

He took a step into the room and quickly pulled back as the stench of decay hit him.

 

"Oh my God…" Bulma's father, Dr. Briefs, lay stretched out on his bed, his body twisted at an unnatural angle as if he'd died convulsing and thrashing. Vegeta looked a little closer at Dr. Briefs' mouth, which was still open in a silent scream, and swallowed hastily; there was no doubt he had died convulsing. It was a terrible way to die - sick in bed. Not the death of a warrior.

 

Slowly, He backed away from the room and the smell of death…Surely, if a cure had been found, they would have given it to Dr. Briefs as well…Surely they would have moved his body…He hadn't died recently, that was for sure. How long had he and Bulma been ill?

 

"Hello?" Vegeta slowly started down the stairs to the bottom floor of the house, griping the handrail tight as his legs threatened to give away again. Kami he was weak. He barely had enough strength to walk, let alone summon up any ki.

 

He found one of the Capsule Corp scientists lying face down on the kitchen floor; her body covered in the horrible red rash that was the signature of the Chronical virus. Keeping away from the woman's body as though she might be able to reinfect him he opened the kitchen door and stepped outside.

 

Out in the bright light the silence was much more pronounced. Not only that, but the sky, which was usually hazy from pollution and fog at this time of the day, was clear.

 

"Hello? Can anybody hear me?" Vegeta shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoed around and finally died down. The only answer he received was a gentle breeze that stirred in his hair, and the cry of a few distant birds.

 

Vegeta sighed and closed his eyes - stretching out with his senses he tried to detect any power levels at all - any sign that someone was still living nearby. But there was nothing. Either everyone had left or everyone was dead...

 

 

 

A/N - Let me me know what you think :) Poor ol' Bulma and Vegeta are going to have their work cut out for them!