Disbeliever

Things had started to go bad.

Walt had been sitting in Willard's Pharmacy waiting on a prescription when it began.

Outside the plate glass window, the woman had begun violently vomiting.

Walt spun around in his seat as the deluge swept against the window. Especially unnerving was the fact that she was looking straight at him.

Vomiting straight at him.

"Look what you're making me do!" screamed the woman between fits. She was dressed in what could only be described as green and brown rags, and her hair had a greyish-yellow tint you often found peppered through the beards of shopping mall Santa Clause's.

She started slamming at the window with the flats of her hands, which were slick with puke. "LEMME IN YOU PRICK OH GODDAMMIT WHY WON'T YOU LEMME IN!!!" she screamed, with her eyes never for a second leaving Walt's.

Something cold and sour happened in his stomach.

It was then that a pair of burly cops came rushing across the street. "What's the problem miss?" bellowed one of them in that accusatory way cops tend to have when they're pretending to want to help. Each grabbed an arm and she struggled with a demon vitality that was nonetheless impotent in the face of their bovine mass.

"We'll be together soon Walt, you wait!" she screamed as they dragged her off and away, away towards whatever entry-level hell they had cooked up for her.