It had been a long time ago. Years. Before he had ever went to college. Before he went to high school. He still had dimples on his cheeks. He still had his hideous buck-teeth and his rosy cheeks. It was the time of his life where he preferred to be called Fred and despised his full name. He played outside with his toys and pretended. He came from a wealthy family. This was the reason for his very induction into college. But it was also his undoing. It was the sixties. A deep fear ran rampant throughout the nation. The fear of Reds. The fear of color. Espionage. Was old Mrs. Gittersburg across the street secretly a Soviet spy? Did she send coded letters through the mail? Was she watching all of them, waiting to send a signal for nuclear armageddon? Frederick heard them blaring in his dreams at night. Sirens. The ones that instinctively had his mind go "Duck and cover!" Fill the bathtub up so they had drinking water when the pipes stopped working. Get his little sister to wear her Mickey-Mouse themed gas mask. Dig a fallout shelter. Thoughts that plagued a little boy's mind when they had absolutely no place to. In the eyes of the government, it was for safety. Should the Communists ever do away with the Iron Curtain, should they ever invade South Korea, should the Cubans not fold and surrender their missiles, they had a plan. It was in this world that Frederick grew up. A world with segregation. A world where everyone was looked upon, regardless of social status or success. McCarthyism was the new black, and that was okay. It was right. And so, the future scientist grew up among arguments and screaming. He distracted himself in his bedroom in the evening, trying to drown out his parents' shrieking cries with an impression of a very loud rocket or Superman finally coming to save the day! No matter the "Have you talked to his teachers, Sandra? Have you? Do you know just what he goes to school with?!" or the "I should've never married you. You're never home. You're never here. Not for me or Fred. We used to wait for you. I used to wait for you. What happened?", he ignored it. His parents might fight here and there, but he knew they loved each other. After all, that was what parents did, right? They loved each other. And they loved him. They were a family. Weren't they? They were a family! Frederick would lay his head down at bedtime and hope for a better day. That he wouldn't have to go to school with the coloreds or the spics. That the Reds wouldn't nuke all of them. All through childhood, all through puberty, it was the same recycled narrative. Don't trust these guys, don't trust those guys. But when he was 14, everything changed. The everyday brainwashing had worked. He had succumbed to the machine. Not fully, but enough to make a difference. To be the difference. Frederick Walters was the ideal American child. He was looked up to. He was the top scholar of the American Hitler Youth. He hated anyone with a different skin tone. Anyone who kept to themselves just a smidge too much or the quiet old men and women in the back of the neighborhood. Leave them be for only a second, only a second, and that was all it took. Never take your eyes off of them. Where will they go? What will they do? Paranoia infested his senses. It invaded his mind. Everywhere he looked there was a potential double agent. The public was full of them. Couldn't trust the masses. Couldn't trust anyone but his family. Mom and Dad. Sure, they argued, but it was okay. Families did that. It was their way of love.
It was January 14th, 1967. The sun had just barely risen over the horizon. Prime time for Frederick to wake and begin his day. As he started his daily routine, he noticed something. Something wrong. There was a draft coming from somewhere. Did someone leave a window open? His parents never did that, and he didn't think he did. He jumped up from his bed and slid the window down and secured the lock in place. Frederick paused. Footsteps were heard. Heavy footsteps. Bulky footsteps. They were downstairs. After living with people for so long, you know how they sounded on the stairs. You knew how much they weighed. This was neither of them. Maybe there was a visitor? It didn't feel right. It was too early. Frederick trusted himself. He trusted his instincts. They hadn't led him wrong before. Now wasn't different. He tiptoed downstairs, careful to avoid the creaky stairs, hopping over him and balancing his weight on the staircase. The sound of rummaging could be heard. Things were being pushed and shoved and hurriedly dug through. As he reached the base of the stairs, Frederick saw something he'd never forget. In the dim light of the refrigerator, stood a tall, big, huge thing. One of them. It. It turned its big head and regarded him with giant nostrils and jaundice-filled eyes. It breathed sickly. Wheezing was the only sound now. Wheezing and the sound of Frederick's heart in his ears. It sounded like a dying animal. There had to be something wrong with it. Was it spreading disease? In his house? He couldn't take a chance. He ran. "Mom! Dad! Get the gun! There's a nigger in the house!" His deep voice protruded through the thin walls of the suburban home to no avail. He reached the backroom where his parents slept and stopped dead in horror. His dad had gotten the gun. His mom was right there with him. There they lay, cuddled together, in an embrace. It didn't protect them. It wouldn't protect him. It was evident from their caved-in skulls. How strong was this thing? And there it was. It heaved behind him. It wheezed hoarsely. Thick strands of snot ran down its face and past it's chin. It towered over the small teenager. Frederick was afraid. When would he die? When would this thing kill him? But it did no such thing. It didn't say anything. It slowly raised an arm. It raised a finger. And it pointed. Directly at him. No words. No sounds. It just pointed. And then it left him in the dark. He stood there unmoving. The boy sank to his knees unconsciously and fat tears silently fell. That was the first and last time Frederick cried. For anyone, for himself, for anything. 

Decades later, in the depth of the apocalypse, his childhood came rushing back to him. During his studies of the unknown pathogen that raged through the world, one little problem had occurred in its midst. One flaw. Daniel had been replaced, and his replacement? The very embodiment of his early years. Frederick would soon come to be enlightened by the fact that not only is the new replacement African American, but he also believed in socialist ideologies. Carlie would later write it off as a breath of fresh air, and needing to redistribute throughout the camp. Who better than a communist for that?
Everyone of relative importance was summoned to the lunchroom to sit through his speech. Lera had chosen to sit beside him. Their comradery was ever stronger and growing in the wake of their new partnership.

But, as cute as she was, Lera was ignorant to this new threat. It seemed I was the only one to recognize this plight upon us. It'd do no good to take care of now, but certainly, in the future, plans could be made. Oh, yes. Plans could be made. I turned to Lera and greeted her quietly. How was your day? Any new patients? Have a good morning? She was jolly today. Full of good spirits! I could only wonder. I'd have to ask after this inauguration.
I found the whole thing ironic. Even with the virus outside, we still found a way to bring it in. It may not kill us all immediately, but rest assured, it will happen. Of that I was certain. I kept up the pretense and smiled for the first time in a few months. My faithful nurse noticed and it brought a kick to her step. But then, something new had happened. Something entirely outside of my calculations. He, this new Daniel, the replacement, had begun to greet everyone! With a handshake and a smile, an orderly line grew to accept him into our society. I had no other choice but to fall in and be docile, if for nothing but to gain time. He shook my hand firmly and looked into my eyes with a firm conviction. "Hello, Frederick." His booming voice said. "I'm Ed."
I shook his hand warmly. Something had to be done. Fast. I smiled in response to his greeting and left to return to the sample I had procured earlier.
What happened to this place?