Prologue

Late at night, on the property of a white-trash home within the outer circles of Indianapolis, three days after his seventeenth birthday, Leo collapsed in his front yard while home alone. He lay there in the grass shaking, sweating, and wishing whatever it was to be over until he slipped from consciousness. His skin flared to a temperature of over 120.
He awoke around 3:30 a.m. and attempted to drag himself into the house. He made it inside the door and crumpled himself onto the floor, slumping against the couch. He shut his eyes and willed himself to pass out again, but his mind could not escape the horrible stabbing pain between his shoulder blades. The pain finally started to subside in slow waves; the opposite of how it had come.
He kept his eyes closed and sat frozen where he sat. He didn’t want to risk the pain coming back. When he lifted his eye lids, he read the microwave clock at 4:06. His skin was still scorching, but the pain had faded to only a lingering soreness. His body was exhausted but he decided to head to the bathroom and take inventory of himself.
When he stirred and stood up, he realized a piercing hunger in the pit of his stomach. He went straight to the kitchen instead and flung the refrigerator door open. He shoved the first thing he saw – a package of hotdogs – into his mouth and scarfed it down, barely missing the wrapper. What was wrong with him? He was still starving but he went to have a look at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked terrible. The dark circles under his eyes contrasted with the scarlet flush on his cheeks. Wait, what was that? What were those?