He walked into the apartment without seeing Morgan in the corner because he was too lost in his own thoughts to be careful. Chen walked around while he talked, waving his hands in the air like he was practicing a speech. "The Council gets it."
"Father Murphy sees it so clearly. We are not just survivors, but we are builders to build the future!"
"We'll make something clean and good for this world."
Chen walked toward the bedroom, probably to write in his journal again. "Tomorrow we start to find the weak links."
"Those who lived but don't have strong beliefs. If we let them, they'll ruin everything."
"Father Murphy says we have to be firm and act before doubt spreads like the Syndrome."
Morgan moved smoothly and with control as he stepped out of the corner. He had already made up his mind three days ago when he circled Chen's name and wrote the date.
There was no need to hesitate or second-guess now. The time for a moral argument was over.
"David, we need to talk."
Chen turned around, surprised but not scared. "Who the fuck are you—"
"He smiled and recognized Morgan right away. Oh... it's you, Morgan."
"Why are you in my apartment?" Chen looked confused.
"My father told me to visit you to discuss something important." Morgan answered without hesitation.
"I see. Speaking of Father Murphy... you should come with us!"
"Your father is doing something amazing that will change everything. The Council meets again tomorrow night, and I know he would be happy to see you."
"You showed us the kind of strength we need during the outbreak." He took a step forward, arms opening in a welcoming way, completely missing the point.
Chen thought Morgan could be a potential recruit, someone who could be persuaded and excited to join the group. Morgan's knife didn't register yet, or maybe Chen saw it and his mind wouldn't let him think about what it meant.
"I know what he is," Morgan said, and his voice was so flat and cold that it finally made Chen stop. "I'm sorry, David."
Chen's eyes went from welcoming to confused. He looked down at the knife and then back up at Morgan's face, trying to make sense of what he was seeing with what he thought should be happening.
The interaction was supposed to be friendly, and Morgan was supposed to see the light and join their cause. But the knife didn't fit that story.
"Morgan...? What are you—"
Morgan closed the gap in one step, moving with the skill of someone who had killed before and knew exactly how to do it quickly. Chen's hands went up in a defensive gesture, but they were too slow and too late because he was confused and didn't want to believe that Morgan meant harm.
The knife went straight into Chen's heart, angling up under the ribs to reach the vital organ with little resistance. Morgan felt the moment the blade went in, the resistance of flesh and muscle before it went deeper, and how horrible it was to be so close to someone as they died.
Chen's body went stiff, and his eyes opened wide in shock. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a wet, choking gasp with blood spilling out.
Morgan held him there, one hand on the knife and the other under Chen's weight as his legs started to give out. Morgan's hand felt warm as it gripped the handle, and the blood soaked into Chen's shirt, making a bigger stain.
"W... Why...?" Chen was able to whisper, but his voice was hushed.
There was blood at the corner of his mouth, a thin line that went down his chin. "I was finally... worth something..."
The words hurt more than any physical wound could have. Morgan carefully lowered Chen to the floor and knelt beside him as the life left his eyes.
Chen's face showed betrayal and confusion. He couldn't understand why this was happening when he had finally found meaning and purpose.
Morgan stayed with him until the end, forcing himself to watch instead of turning away. Chen deserved at least that much, to have someone there when he died, even if that person was his killer.
Chen's eyes lost their light over time, and his breathing got shallower until it stopped completely. "I hope... the god... forgave your sins..."
Morgan felt silent hearing that and answered. "That word is for you... and all the councils."
The apartment got quiet again, but this time it was a different kind of quiet. The kind of silence that came after violence, when death was all around and couldn't be ignored or explained away.
Morgan got up slowly, his body moving on its own because of training and muscle memory. With emotion that was put away, put in a box to be dealt with later when there was time.
He needed to set up the scene and come up with a story that would satisfy the police investigation and keep this death from being linked to Murphy's group. He put Chen's body in a way that made it look like there had been a fight, with the limbs arranged in a way that made it look like the victim had tried to fight back.
Morgan put Chen's wallet and watch in his pocket, which were valuable items that would be thrown away elsewhere to support the story of the robbery. He moved quickly through the apartment, seeking forensic evidence, wiping down surfaces he might have touched, and making sure that nothing pointed back to him.
The bedroom window opened easily, making it look like someone had broken in. Morgan threw things around, opened drawers, and made it look like someone had been looking for valuable things. The staging was professional and thorough, the kind of scene-dressing that would hold up under casual investigation.
He tried to stop the shaking, but it started in his fingers and spread to his whole body as he finished. Morgan made himself check the apartment one last time, made sure everything was in order, and then left the same way he came in.
The shaking got worse as he went down the stairs. Morgan could barely walk straight by the time he got to the street.
"I'm getting weaker and weaker with each kill I've done..."
He stumbled into an alley two blocks away, leaned against the rough brick wall, and felt his legs give out completely. He slid down to sit on the dirty pavement with his knees pulled up to his chest. His whole body shook uncontrollably.
"Is this one of that bastard's plans...? To manipulate my mind and morals...?"
Without warning, he started dry heaving, and his stomach was moving even though there was nothing to bring up. Morgan gasped for air between the spasms and tasted bile in the back of his throat. He had kept a professional distance during the operation, but that was completely broken, leaving him open to the psychological effects that followed.
"Two hundred lives," he said to himself, his voice sounding like a desperate prayer or mantra. "He would have taken two hundred lives."
"Two hundred people who are still alive because of this."
He said it over and over again, as if it were a spell that could somehow make things better, as if the math would make the guilt go away. "Families... What's worse is that he would have killed kids."
"The graves of many people... he planned killings..."
"I know this was necessary."
But Chen's last words were louder than any reason. "I finally meant something." The look of confusion and betrayal in his eyes, the real happiness he had shown just a few moments before Morgan pulled out the knife.
Chen was thrilled to see him and thought he was trying to recruit him. He died without knowing why someone would take away the reason he had finally found to live.
Morgan put his hands over his eyes to try to block out the images that kept playing over and over again. The knife going in, Chen's blood on his hands, and the horrible closeness of holding someone as they died.
The situation was not the same as killing transformed creatures in battle. In ways that made it a million times worse, this was different.
"I really need therapy if I can get it..."