The Academy: Book 2 by Chad Leito Page A

healthy, and intimidating—but underneath the suit it was clear that there was a body consisting of more bones than anything. The gray skin was taut over his cheekbones and his thin lips were stretched over his teeth. He was balding, but not in the usual male pattern that started at the front and slowly crept back over the top. No, this was the spotted, diffuse balding pattern of someone whose body was undergoing such a biological struggle that it didn’t have the extra nutrients to waste on such superfluous things as hair growth. The thin, patchy hair that still existed on random areas over his scalp was a washed-out blond color. His breathing rattled into the microphones. Surrounding his eyes were dark circles, marking blood vessel degradation: this made him look slightly like a raccoon—a very sick raccoon.
                  Asa and Teddy instantly recognized the signs of the Wolf Flu.
                  Despite his illness and impending departure from the living, there was a determination in the man’s eyes. He was going to work and do his job to the best of his abilities until the disease dragged him to the grave. The chattering of the crowd ceased as the man began to talk.
                  “There is a long list of things that have led us to this point.” The dying man looked down at his notes before going on. “First, the citizens of this country and others began to be afflicted by the Wolf Flu, one of the greatest tragedies to afflict human kind. Secondly, one month ago, news stations across the globe were all sent a letter, from an unknown source. Each of the letters were written in the same, scratchy handwriting, and they all accused Robert King and Alfatrex of the Wolf Flu epidemic, pointing to the M1CR mutated agents that have been found in the water. Thirdly, after efforts from the Ivy League, and a series of Federal investigations, a large amount of evidence suggested that the anonymous letters were true.”
                  The man brought out a napkin from his pocket, and had a horrible coughing fit. He crouched over the podium for a moment, wiped his mouth, and continued on, his voice a bit more hoarse than before. “These things lead us to what happened last night, in which an off duty police officer, Los Angeles’s Troy Webber, broke into Robert King’s home and killed him.” He took a small sip of water. “There are a lot of unknowns regarding the incident last night, but there are some things that we can be sure of.
                  “Number one: The government did not, in any way or fashion, sanction the murder of Robert King. Number two: Troy Webber has admitted to the murder, both on a live internet broadcast last night, and by signing a form admitting guilt this morning, in the presence and under the guidance of his team of lawyers. Number three: The government has no current intentions of giving any unlawful, favoring treatment to Mr. Webber, despite whatever his intentions for the murder may have been. Thank you.”
                  He turned briskly and began to walk off stage as he was pelted by an uproar of unanswered questions from the crowd of reporters. The video still had half a minute left to play, but Teddy shut it off.
                  “Robert King is dead?” Asa asked.
                  “Yeah,” said Teddy. “But you’ve got to watch this next one now.” He typed an address into the URL box that Asa had never heard of before, and then punched in a long series of seemingly nonsense numbers and letters. The webpage loaded, and a second video was displayed on the screen. Teddy hit play.
                  An image of a sweaty man came on the screen. His face was lit with orange lamplight and he was crying.
                  “Hello, hello. One, two, one, two. This is Troy Webber, L.A.P.D. streaming to you live.”
                  From the background came