Chapter 18: The Awakened
"Parasitic necrosis?"
Richard's voice came out like a poisoned whisper, barely audible in the suffocating silence of the room.
Emma lay on the bed, so still she looked like an abandoned porcelain doll. Her skin had lost all warmth, turning cold and pale. The worst part were the veins: red lines, glowing like liquid fire, spreading across her face in twisted patterns, like the roots of a dying tree.
James swallowed hard, uneasy."W-what… is that?" he asked, but no one answered.
Richard didn't even look at him. His thoughts devoured him with the same intensity as the disease."This doesn't make sense…" he muttered.
He collapsed into the chair beside the bed, his body stiff, as if he had suddenly turned to stone. This illness wasn't ordinary. No, it had never been. Parasitic necrosis came only from a bite, from contact with the blood rain, or from exposure to a Monarch's mutation zone.
He had taken every precaution. Luna had already mutated before meeting them, which ruled out accidental infection. He himself had shielded them from the rain. Nobody had been bitten. Nobody… or had they?
A chill ran down his spine."Was Emma bitten?" he finally asked, his voice low, trying to hide his growing dread.
Rebecca stepped forward. Her face was tense, her hands trembling."No. She wasn't bitten by any infected."
She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing."But… she did touch the blood rain. When we were trying to cover the windows of the vehicle so the water wouldn't seep in, during the attack… Emma brushed against a few drops."
Rebecca lowered her gaze. Tears slid down her cheeks."We thought it wouldn't be a problem… it was just a few drops."
The silence that followed was worse than any scream. Richard stayed motionless for several minutes, his teeth grinding, anger building inside him like a volcano on the verge of eruption. He wasn't angry at Rebecca. No. The hatred was directed inward—at himself.
They were in an area far from the city where there shouldn't have been people. Who could have guessed that this place would turn out to be the most traveled route for those fleeing the city in a hurry?
"Damn it!"
The roar shook the room. His fist slammed into the wall, bricks giving way as if they were brittle bones. A deep crack spread from the impact, another scar to mark the refuge.
His mind spun. There were methods to cure parasitic necrosis… in the future. But that future did not exist yet. Here and now, Emma was doomed.
Or at least, that's what he thought… until James opened his mouth.
"If she's sick… I think my friend could help her."
Richard turned his head with inhuman slowness. His eyes burned with a dangerous gleam, the kind of look that froze blood. At that moment, he was a breath away from crushing James's skull just to force the truth out of him.
"What do you mean?" His voice dripped venom."You know someone who can save Emma?"
James took half a step back, trapped under the crushing weight of Richard's presence. The air itself grew heavier, as if Richard had filled the room with invisible blades.
"Y-yes…" James stammered. "The friend I told you about before… wasn't really a friend. She's my friend. I didn't want you to find her, so… I lied a little."
Richard's fury rose like a black tide."You lied?"
James lifted his hands desperately."She's an Awakened! A healer, or at least that's what she told me. She can help her."
The silence became unbearable. Richard's glare bore into him for several seconds, searching, demanding, daring him to be lying.
Finally, Richard stepped forward. He grabbed James by the shoulders with brutal strength, making him feel what it was like to be caught in the jaws of a serpent about to devour him whole."Where is she?"
James swallowed with difficulty. Despite his pallor, he found the courage to answer:"However… in exchange, I want to stay in the shelter."
The words detonated like a bomb.
He couldn't believe it. That brat had the audacity to negotiate, with Emma's life at stake.
His instinct screamed to kill him right there. His hand was already prepared to snap his neck. But deep down, Richard knew James was right: there was a chance. Small. Fragile. But real.
"How certain are you that she'll agree to heal her?"
"Eighty percent."
James lifted his chin with pride."She's my childhood friend. Having her in my life was the greatest blessing I ever received."
He even allowed himself a triumphant tone, as if he wasn't leeching off someone like a social parasite.
"…And with that, you just lost what little respect I might've had for you."Richard sneered.
* * *
The roar of the engine filled the inside of the vehicle.The windshield was smeared with dried dirt from the road, streaked with dark drops of crimson rain. The van rumbled forward through the wreckage. Forgotten cars and torn bodies littered the abandoned highway.
All of it had been forsaken by the hand of God.
Richard's eyes were locked on the steering wheel. After everything that had happened, he refused to make another mistake. Still, he broke the silence:"So… why don't you stay with your friend, knowing how important she is?"
James swallowed hard."I've got pride…" he answered, uncomfortable. "I don't want to live knowing I'm just taking advantage of her."
Richard raised an eyebrow."Isn't that exactly what you're doing right now?"
The accusation fell like a hammer. James forced a bitter smile, raising his hands in an awkward gesture."Come on… she'd understand. It's not like I'm selling her. She'll help us, and then she'll go on with her life. Who knows… maybe she's even found someone by now."
James clenched his fists, a sad smile still hanging on his face."After all… she was always talented. And me… I'm still pathetic."
Richard glanced at him from the corner of his eye. That self-pity irritated him, but at the same time he understood the weight of those words. In a world like this, he too wanted to believe everything would turn out the way it had in his past life.
He thought of Emma. In his past life, he had loved her, cared for her, held her through the chaos. But now… could he do it again? Could he keep being that attentive young man who had smiled with her in the first days of hell? No.
He was a different man now. A bitter old survivor who had endured wave after wave of the infected, carrying a mindset he could no longer escape. He had tried to be the old Richard, but Emma had noticed the truth quickly enough.
He sighed, weary."I understand you…" he admitted at last.
* * *
The van jolted violently as it rolled over something. Everyone was lifted a few centimeters from their seats."What was that?" Rebecca asked, terrified, her eyes darting to the window in search of the impact.
She didn't have to wait long. A woman's face appeared in the rain, her voice cracking with unrestrained fury:"You ran over my husband, bastard!"
Rebecca froze. Ethan tightened his grip on his weapon."Are they infected?" they all asked at once.
Richard shook his head with a sharp gesture."No… they're much worse."
He gritted his teeth and slammed down on the accelerator."They're Awakened."
The engine roared as the van picked up speed."Damn it, this route's turned popular!"
He shifted gears, but a metallic crash rang out behind them. Richard glanced in the rearview mirror and saw it: a black vehicle tearing down the asphalt in pursuit. At least two Awakened were inside, if his senses weren't failing him.
A heavy sense of dread anchored itself in his chest."Buckle up," he ordered before jerking the wheel.
The van skidded dangerously around a curve, its tires slipping over the rain-slicked road. The headlights of their pursuers cut through the darkness like knives.
"Remind me, Ethan," Richard growled, eyes fixed on the road, "to let you modify this rust bucket next time."
Ethan gave a nervous smirk."Sure… if we make it out alive."
A metallic slam shook the chassis. Their enemies had rammed them from the side. The whole vehicle shuddered violently; Rebecca screamed, and Ethan had to brace himself with both hands.
"Richard!" James bellowed from the back seat. "We're not gonna last much longer!"
"Shut up and hold on!" Richard roared back, steering with lethal precision, his driving skills honed by escapes far deadlier than this. This was nothing compared to fleeing a Class 3 horde.
He yanked the wheel hard. The van swerved, nearly flipping, but somehow managed to slip past the rusted carcass of a truck sprawled across the road. The tires screeched, shredding the wet pavement.
Their pursuers weren't so lucky. The black car slammed headfirst into the truck's rear end. The crash thundered through the night—metal against metal, flesh against iron. Richard caught a glimpse of it in the mirror.
Several bodies were hurled from the wreckage. But not all of them had died.
One figure launched itself from the debris in an unnatural leap, landing squarely in the middle of the road ahead of them.
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
The figure raised its hand, and a crimson glow ignited in its palm, swelling like a living torch.
The fire burst forward, a brutal wave of flame. Richard reacted without thought: he spun the wheel hard, and the van slammed into a concrete barrier. The impact rattled their bones, but it spared them from being incinerated head-on. Heat scorched the side of the van, leaving black scars on the metal.