The Blood Serpent

The Cabin

Jazzy awoke under a set of dim lights streaming down from above.

Aside from their names, she couldn't remember any of her classmates at her wake. Something about the blood wolf had changed her, and though its effects were loosening, her mind had to take a few minutes before she could process the memories.

"Do we have to wake up on time?" Natalie, who seemed to have been awake for about two minutes, let out a massive yawn. "Bruh, is this a school or something?"

Jazzy thought about that for a while. Although she had thought of the area as more of a shelter than a school, she'd also thought of the girls more as classmates than as friends.

It had never occurred to her that they would be closer over time, although she supposed that it would ought to be natural if they were going to spend the rest of their lives together in the shelter.

There was a part of Jazzy, however, that didn't trust any of these girls.

Maybe that would change, but Jazzy wouldn't know. She had always felt disconnected from life, something that she supposed would never change --- but now that she was bound inside an agricultural shelter where the outside world was terrorized by monsters, she assumed she would eventually receive the urge to feel... closer with her roommates.

Bea gave Jazzy a quiet stare that instantly made her go cold. "You don't think you're a little quiet today," she said, putting her gray hood up.

Jazzy had a gut feeling that someone wasn't acting right in this room, and she gave Bea a grim smile.

"I'm better with the medications now."

Her own voice seemed thicker, not unlike a pile of cold gray sludge, and Jazzy forced the corners of her mouth to lift slightly. It felt better to excuse her emotions as from the blood wolf's bite than to admit her hatred for the pandemic and the shelter.

Bea, however, was already talking cheerily with her new friends, and Jazzy decided to explore the books piled up on the room's various shelves.

She knew immediately that there would be no boredom there. Each page was printed on a neat-chipped corn husk, and each cover was tight-knitted with woven corn silk, while the white shelves, resembling clouds in the sky, were well-organized by their topic. Jazzy ran her finger through encyclopedias of herbs and spices, history magazines on the artificial breeding of corn, and even a college biology textbook explaining the classification of plants.

Jazzy found an unusual slit in the corn-yellow spine of the textbook, and aimlessly wandered her finger inside until she felt it make contact with a folded piece of paper that was surprisingly smooth. After sliding it out, she began to read.

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓵𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂. 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓬𝓸𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽...

The handwriting seemed slow and careful, but the ink was overrun. Jazzy felt a chill ripple through her spine as she examined the note, which seemed more like a college paper as her eyes wandered down the page. A pang of something familiar hinted in her head, but she couldn't put her mind to who her guts were telling her to watch for.

--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

So, we are kindred spirits. Sorry. Tester.

Who are you?

...

Shouldn't I be immune to this?

... in a way.

What's your name?

Floyd.

--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Jazzy's eyes travel down the page.

Blood wolves. Blood serpents. Blood hawks, that hunted in packs and took turns ripping open their targets. Jazzy felt the empty hollow in her heart grow.

The essay went on, and Jazzy felt a spring of hope swerve through her head.

... 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓾𝓷𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓿𝓲𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓾𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷 𝓫𝔂 𝓪 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 - 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷 𝓾𝓷𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴 𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓬, 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻. 𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓘𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓽𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓰𝓲𝓮𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓸𝓻 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓱𝓸𝔀.

... That didn't seem helpful, although Jazzy thought she felt a new respect blossom in her mind for the blood hunters, for their persistence against the true enemy. Unlike... Jazzy squeezed her eyes shut, and another tear splashed on the floor, directly under the spot where it had slid off her cheek.

Her sister. Her father. The Institution, where everyone who believed in carefully disguised assassination was welcomed in, and given full protection from the government.

But it was the blood hunters who had inspired the world to change, to resist, to fight against the grasp of the Infection. But it was the blood hunters who had worked tirelessly day after day, meticulously crafting watches for the Blood Monster Signals.

BMS watches. It was funny to Jazzy that they had been keeping her alive far better than any "Declaration of Inspiration" from the Institution had.

The irony was that it was the blood hunters who the Institution said to be the curse of the world, and so it was --- fight with the Institution, or fight with the blood hunters. You couldn't believe in fighting for both, and that was rule, and that was that...

... until Lily Minnie and Frederick Smith supposedly went to bed together, half a year before Jazzy's birth. They married the following week, and instantly clashed, never to be found again, which was why Jazzy was raised by her aunt, Jill, with her cousin, Natalie.

Hmm.