Boy Meets Beast

✧ 48 ✧

There, by the window, stood Pig. Tall on his feet. Large enough to cover the view. He held a long metal object on his shoulder, aiming it at the darkness ahead.

Two more shots were fired.

BANG! BANG!

The rifle recoiled on Greg's shoulder with sparks flashing from its muzzle.

"Goddamnit, Greg!" Billy yelled, with his hands on his ears. "Are you trying to turn me deaf?"

"It's them," Greg said, lowering his rifle. "They know about the boy."

Ilya was in shock, shivering with a thin layer of sweat combing his loose strands of hair on his flushed cheeks. He watched Billy's demeanor change from anger to concern. He watched as the bulky man stood up and headed to Greg, whispering something.

"Don't tell me—"

"Yup," Greg confirmed Billy's worries. "It's the vamps."

"Vampires?" Ilya spoke, pulling the two men's attention away from the window. "What d-do they want f-from me?"

Ilya was trembling. Something was happening to his body. Chills. Hisses. Twitches. And a wince. Something didn't feel right.

Billy and Greg stared at the boy with worried gazes.

"Kid," said Billy as he carefully approached. "You're shaking."

Ilya squeezed the bandages on his shoulder. It burned. The pain was growing fast. It was there before, but now it was unbearable. It was as if a creature was eating his flesh with a mouth full of acid.

"I don't... feel so good..." Ilya held his stomach and hurled, "Blarg!"

The kid threw up on Billy's bed. The food that entered his stomach just an hour ago had left it. The liquid oozed out of his mouth, and not a moment too soon, he vomited again.

Billy backed away from the fountain of digested food just in time. Hearing these distressing voices ripping the kid's stomach, forcing food out of his malnourished little body, pained him. 

"Holy hell!" Greg shouted.

Billy hurried to pull the kid's hair away from his mouth. He gently pressed on the kid's forehead.

"Greg." Billy turned to say, "He has a fever."

Ilya stopped to take a breath, then he heaved and threw up the acids of his stomach. There was no more food left in him.

"Fuck..."

Greg noticed how pale and sweaty the boy was. His gaze shifted to Billy, giving him a look that the latter immediately understood.

Devastated, Billy said in a low voice, "No."

"Yes," Greg responded. "He's infected."

Ilya started breathing heavily. His inhales and exhales sounded harsh and closer to gasping instead of normal breathing. But luckily, he stopped vomiting.

"That's impossible!" Billy yelled. "There're no bite marks on him! I checked him myself."

But Greg replied, "Are you sure?"

Billy held the boy's head between his hands. He felt the warm breaths fanning his face. He checked those teary eyes; the white was turning yellow, but the irises held their beautiful colors.

"Whatever. There's still time." Billy ordered with a demanding voice, "Bring the antibiotics!"

Greg was quickly on it, as quick as his heavyweight could carry him.

"What's going on?"

Ilya's voice came out tired. Fear changed his pretty features. Sweat covered his pale skin. And his eyes wavered as they searched Billy's for answers.

"What's happening to me?"

Billy, still holding Ilya's face, said, "Were you bitten?"

"No," Ilya said between his gasps. "But she drooled on me."

"Drooled?"

Billy let go of Ilya and gave him a glass of water.

Ilya wiped his mouth and drank it down in sips.

"A redhead woman... I think she was a zombie, but she could talk."

Billy's eyes grew wide. He used to know a redhead. She was a nice lady called Debra. It had been a while since he saw her. This only meant that she met her fate while Beast was taking over his body.

And not long ago, she must've turned into a talker, the first phase of the Z virus.

Billy snapped out of the past and into his present problem. Did the kid get infected by coming in contact with her saliva only? No bites? No wounds to enter?

But then Ilya twitched and squeezed his shoulder. A hiss alerted Billy to the source of the problem.

Of course.

With a swift move, Billy pulled Ilya's loose shirt and tore it open.

"Hey!" The kid gasped and tried to protest, "What are you doing?"

Billy effortlessly pinned Ilya down and continued stripping him until his upper body was exposed. He felt butterfly punches on his abs that tickled him more than it bothered him.

He stripped Ilya down to his briefs, just in case. The boy was pale as snow with bruises coloring him like a canvas. Under the many bandages were cuts and stabs, but no bites.

Greg came back with a clear liquid in an IV bag and a syringe.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The situation in front of him caused a gasp of utter revulsion to come out of his mouth. A mid-forty old man on top of a defenseless sick teenager was a tasteless, if not disgusting, scene to walk into.

"Get the hell off of him!"

Greg grabbed Billy by his neck and was ready to strangle him and pull him away when Billy suddenly turned.

"Look."

He pointed at Ilya's shoulder. The bandages were removed, and a slimy infected wound was on display.

Greg stared with awe.

Ilya stopped struggling and answered their questioning gazes:

"She stabbed me and then drooled on the cut." His chest raised and fell. "Am I going to turn like her?"

They looked anywhere but at him and didn't answer.

Ilya repeated, "Am I turning into a zombie?"

Oh no! This can't be happening! 😱

What's gonna happen to our sweet boy?? 😭😭😭

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