"Dios mío," Miguel muttered as he too stared at the vent. The moaning sound was now interspersed with a loud thumping that sounded rather violent. "I don't think that's what wacking off is supposed to sound like," he replied to Julian as he left the office, his brow furrowed as he made a beeline for the bathroom.<br/><br/>Ken, likely in a futile attempt to drown out the sounds coming from behind the locked door for the sake of the customers, had raised the volume on the miniature television set mounted up against a soffit above the front desk. The news was on - no surprise there - and the same reporter Miguel remembered seeing earlier in the day was once again addressing the camera, though if he had to guess, he'd have said she had nothing new to say. The news was usually about 20% new information and 80% repeating the same thing over and over.<br/><br/>"Ben, did you come in with Wes in the morning?" he asked as he neared the door; he usually carpooled with Wesley, and perhaps he could shed some light on what was wrong with him. Ben, who had only just brought in Father Rafael's car, walked over shaking his fiery-haired head. "Nah, Miguel. He didn't pick up his phone this morning. I assumed he'd called in sick or something, but then when I got here Ken said he was in the bathroom. Kinda weird for him to come in early on his own without telling me."<br/><br/>Miguel could only frown, confused; after a moment he turned to Ken, who was watching him without much more in the way of certainty on his visage.<br/><br/>"Did you actually<span style="font-style: italic">see</span>him go into the bathroom? "<br/><br/>"Uh, no, I just kinda assumed…"<br/><br/>With a shake of his head the elder de Santa decided he'd investigated enough; he strode over to the locked door just as an alarmingly loud thud echoed from the other side of it, followed immediately by another, slightly more muffled one. The latter sound reminded Miguel very strongly of a body hitting a floor.<br/><br/>"Urgent Development: The CDC has issued a<span style="font-style: italic">mandatory</span>curfew on the Mojave region; all citizens are instructed to get indoors quickly and in an orderly fashion. If you encounter a person who is behaving strangely,<span style="font-style: italic">do not approach them</span>. Call 911 immediately, and if-"<br/><br/>Miguel tuned out the words blaring from the television as he pressed his ear against the small gap between the edge of the door and the frame, only to hear nothing but utter silence on the other side. "Ey! Wes!" he shouted, pounding the door with his fist as he stared around at the others, unable to hide the worry he was feeling. Something was clearly not right.<br/><br/>"Wesley! Are you okay in there?"<br/><br/>When there was no answer, Miguel took two steps away from the door with his hand wrapped firmly around the knob, and pulled his body into the wood shoulder-first. There was a creaking sound as the door shifted in its frame; one more blow sent the door banging off the adjacent wall, and Miguel felt his jaw drop as the scene within the room revealed itself to him.<br/><br/>The mirror over the sink was bloody and cracked, the sink itself was shattered on one side, and some tiles looked like they'd been ripped away from the floor. But the damage to the room wasn't what caught Miguel's attention and held it with a vice-like grip.<br/><br/>Wesley was sprawled out on the floor; there was a small puddle of blood near his head, and on the edge of the sink, and his fingers were also covered in it as well. His skin was riddled with dark lines, which, as Miguel squinted down at him, ended up being blood vessels that had darkened and swelled grotesquely. Miguel took an involuntary step back, tasting bile in the back of his mouth; as if it was struggling to spot something that wasn't outright horrific and inexplicable, he felt his attention lock onto a bump on the back of the man's neck that looked like a bad bee sting. But no bee could do<span style="font-style: italic">this</span>.<br/><br/>"Santa María, Madre de Dios," he whispered through dry lips as he struggled to process what he was seeing. Could this be the illness that had the region in a state of near-panic? Because if so, the response wasn't<span style="font-style: italic">nearly</span>as panicked as it needed to be. But the bigger question that loomed was whether or not the man was dead.<br/><br/>Unsure if what he was doing was incredibly stupid or not, Miguel took a ginger step forward - he froze in place a second later, however, as Wesley moved.<br/><br/>There was a deep, rattling breath, and then the person that had looked very much like a corpse merely a moment earlier was rising jerkily to his feet. The veins, already a gruesome sight, were bulging even more than before, and they turned a jarring jet black in color as a pair of glazed over eyes fixed themselves on the people crowded around just outside the bathroom. A low, mumbling moan escaped parted lips as Wesley took an unsteady stride towards them.