Follow Carol's and Irina's experiences

When they have finished the first bottle of champagne each, Carol and Irina are well on their way to lose even the last tiny remnants of their former self-composure. "Fuggid", the Russian declares bluntly. "I guesh I'm as drung as Shaned Shensen." Carol giggles and fights for her balance. "Naw, it'sh nod that bad", she asserts resolutely. "Becaushe noboy can possily ged as drung as Shaned Shensen, that fuggin alloholig." - "Ogay", Irina concedes after a second, "but it'sh definly nod ladylige to ged that shidfased." - "Whadever", Carol waves her hand. "I don' wanna be a lady anymore, I shus' wanna be drung." Irina nods so violently that she has to hold onto her friend for support. "Me too, hunny. Bud thing of the gosship and the pabbarassi! It'sh bedder if no one elshe notishes thad we're shloshed. Don't wanna read aboud me on TMZ." - "That'sh prolly ride", the blonde woman muses. "Let'sh tage the pardy to my houshe!" - "Gread!" Stumbling over to Carol's Jaguar F-Type, the wealthy socialites don't forget to take the last two bottles of champagne with them. Carol starts her car and shakes her head, but to no avail. Her brain is still foggy and her vision blurred. "Ya know, ish a long dime sinse I drove thish drung", she explains to her companion. "But onshe you ged the hang of it, it'sh no prollem anymore." Irina smiles in drunken elation. "I'll tell ya what, I'm alsho a gread drung driver", she boasts proudly. "Come on, girl, led'sh hid the road!" Cheering and hollering, the elegant women dance around on their seats when Carol revvs the engine and speeds off. But a few minutes later, swerving down the dark country road and drinking champagne in little sips, they have somewhat mellowed down. The blonde at the wheel feels very tired and has a hard time fighting her double vision. "Fugg, I need a shmoge!" she finally slurs. Clumsily lighting a cigarette, Carol steers her car trough the night in meandering lines. Her droopy eyelids begin to close, but just before the car leaves the roadway, the drunken woman is jolted awake by her passenger. "Fuggid, Carol, are you crasy? Do you wanna kill ush, girl?" Braking hard and uncontrolled, the driver breathes deeply and shakes her head. "Shorry, Reena", she apologizes. "I alwaysh ged tired when I'm drung. Lettush swab blases, hon, you gotta drive." Irina has no qualms getting behind the wheel, and a few seconds later, the drunken joyride continues. In fact, the brunette Russian is driving just as wildly and dangerous as her blonde friend, who is now falling asleep in the passenger seat. "Fuggin lidewide", she whispers contemptuously before she raises the champagne bottle to her lips again. Closing her eyes while she is drinking, Irina crosses the yellow center line and drifts into the opposite lane. And because the oncoming car ist doing just the same at this same moment, the result is a terrible near-frontal crash. Suddenly awakend by the pain in her leg, a shocked Carol discovers her **** friend hanging over the steering wheel. Pulling all her strength together, the newly sobered blonde manages to take her blood-spattered cell phone into her trembling hands and call 911. At midnight, Carol, Irina and the other driver, a certain Annabelle McCormick, remain in serious but stable condition at the county hospital, awaiting further medical treatment and a bunch of criminal charges.

REPORTS #8651A, #8653A & #8654A: THREE INFECTED PERSONS SELF-DECONTAMINATED