The Bites

Chapter 21

Brea's heart raced as she flicked through the channels, her eyes scanning each news segment with growing dread. Reports of people falling ill and exhibiting bizarre behaviour had been cropping up sporadically across the country, dismissed by most as isolated cases of rabies. But Brea knew better. She had seen firsthand the horrors unleashed by the organization they had narrowly escaped from.

"They're covering it up," she muttered to herself, frustration and fear intertwining in her voice. "They're trying to keep it quiet.

"The muted boy emerged from the bathroom, his small frame engulfed in the oversized hotel robe. His expression was unreadable, yet Brea could sense the weight of their situation mirrored in his eyes. He quietly held out his soiled clothes, a silent plea for her to care for them.

"We need to clean these," she said softly, her voice betraying a mix of exhaustion. The boy nodded, watching as she gathered his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

Brea set his clothes on the sink, her mind racing with memories of their escape and the dangers lurking in the shadows. The sink was cold under her hands as she filled it with water, scrubbing away the dirt and blood stains with fierce determination. "We can't stay here forever," she whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion and fear. "But where can we go? What can we do?"

As the clothes soaked, Brea stood under the cold spray of the shower, the water cascading over her, washing away the physical and emotional grime of their journey. Brea slid down the tiled wall, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, silent tears mingling with the water cascading around her. She let the water mask the sound of her quiet sobs.

"We're going to make it through this," Brea whispered, though doubt lingered in her voice. "We have to."

They had escaped once and would do it again if they had to. Brea wiped her tears away, pushing herself to stand. She quickly put on the robe and washed and dried their clothes. When Brea emerged from the bathroom, the boy was sitting cross-legged on the bed, absorbed in a cartoon playing on the television. Sitting beside him, Brea wrapped her arms around her knees, her mind searching for a way forward. The boy leaned closer, resting his head against her shoulder.

In the quiet of the hotel room, with the cartoon's cheerful melodies creating a deceptive sense of normalcy, Brea slowly drifted to sleep. Her exhaustion weighed heavily on her, pulling her into a restless slumber. The boy sat beside her, his eyes flickering between the colourful animation and her serene face as if standing guard over her dreams.

As soon as Brea's consciousness slipped away, she found herself standing in the middle of a bustling street, the air thick with the sounds of honking cars and chattering pedestrians. The setting was eerily familiar, a cityscape from a past life, but something was off. The sky above was a sickly green, casting an unnatural hue over everything.

Her heart raced as she tried to make sense of the scene. People milled about, their faces blurred and indistinct, yet something about them filled her with a growing dread. As she moved through the crowd, her unease turned to terror. She could sense it before seeing it—the fetid stench of decay, the low, hungry growls that seemed to emanate from around her. Brea's breath quickened, her eyes darting frantically as she pushed through the crowd. The crowd felt like a living entity, pressing in on her from all sides. She turned a corner, and there they were—the flesh-eaters. Their hollow eyes locked onto her, their lips curling back to reveal yellowed, rotting teeth. They moved with a jerky, unnatural gait, their growls growing louder, more insistent.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din. Her feet felt rooted to the spot, her body paralyzed with fear. She could feel their cold, clammy breath on her skin, the stench overwhelming her senses. Panic surged through her, a primal fear that set her pulse racing.