“We’re almost there!” he shouted over the howling icy winds.  “We’re late for the party,” I say.  Being almost a week late and needing to travel 562 miles in two days, took all the pressure off the guy who was trying to prevent a global catastrophe.  We were supposed to get here a week ahead of time to be able to plan confidently.  Justin looked grim.  He face was pale as if a ghost had replaced his soul on the plane.  He glanced at the driver and ordered, “Turn right into this Taco Bell drive through.”  Really?  We come all the way from Mexico to Russia to have more Mexican food?  The truck slowed to a stop at the window.  A few minutes later, we all had a burrito of our own.  The burrito didn’t sit well in my stomach.  Then again nothing did when you were facing death.  The plan was even more hazardous than the previous one.  The car started making grunting sounds and it slowed to a stop.  Justin got out, his eyes clouded with fear and confusion, went around the back and started unloading the car.  I went around to help him, only to be confronted by a gun stuck in my face.

“Justin what are you doing!” I gulped.

“It doesn’t matter now, Escobido will be here shortly.” Justin beamed in a perfect Mexican accent.

The clouds above us started to fray and a sudden booming sound pierced my ears.  As the dark figures came into visibility, the whirring sound got louder.  Once the mist cleared, the two stealth helicopters had become visible, positioned on both sides of our van.  Roberto and Pyez stepped out of the helicopter on the right, walking towards me shoulder to shoulder.  They stopped twenty feet away from me and stepped once away from each other, to reveal, Escobido.

Escobido, a cruel figure, scars in several places, was dressed in black clothes, and glasses that read on the outside, “Keep calm and eat burritos”.

I woke up in the bathroom stall of a Starbucks in New Mexico, my clothes drenched in pickle juice.  I emerged from the stall and walked out into the waiting room only to find Justin Justin Fletcher and the rest of my team, calmly sipping pumpkin spice lattes.  Justin was wearing black sweatpants and a corduroy shirt.  His hair was matted with sweat, his expression sombre.  I couldn’t believe that Escobido let me live.  But now I only have one mission, and this mission will put the fate of the world on my shoulders.  Escobido is planning something extravagant, like party with the gods extravagant, and I need to stop it.

Stalingrad, Russia, May 8th, 2020

“We’re almost there!” he shouts over the howling icy winds. “We’re late for the party,” I say.  Being almost a week late and needing to travel 562 miles in two days, takes all the pressure off the guy who is trying to prevent a global catastrophe.  We were supposed to get here a week ahead of time to be able to plan confidently.  Justin looked grim.  He face was pale as if a ghost had replaced his soul on the plane.  He glanced at the driver and ordered, “Turn right into this Taco Bell drive through.”  Really? We come all the way from Mexico to Russia to have more Mexican food?  The truck slowed to a stop at the window.  A few minutes later, we all had a burrito of our own.  The burrito didn’t sit well in my stomach.  Then again nothing did when you were facing death.

Ebola has been around for a billion years, and now ebola broke out in the west of Africa.  An perfect virus is a virus that is able to reproduce itself without killing its victim.  The ebola virus is the perfect virus for a bat.  Viruses are experts at carrying disease.  They try to use every canal or path to try to poison the human body, and other animals.  The ebola virus is an expert at passing from cell to cell without causing the nervous system in the human body to send out an alarm.  Since the ebola’s genetic code is wrapped in a protein shell, it gives the virus an advantage over the bodies first line of defense, giving the virus time to reproduce.  The race to help with the cause and cure for ebola is tough, but hopefully we will find the cure.