The Last Girl Standing (#1)

Bite Marks and Blurred Lines

Noami

A primal growl ripped from my throat, a sound raw and unfamiliar. My vision tunneled, the world around me reduced to the woman and her feral hunger.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to attack, to unleash the monstrous strength I could feel coursing through my veins.

Just as I lunged, a small voice pierced through the haze. "Please! Don't hurt them!"

I whipped around, my growl sputtering out into a surprised gasp. Rosalie, the little girl with blood-stained hair, stood there, her eyes wide with terror.

But something else flickered in them too - a flicker of… pleading?

The woman, momentarily distracted, faltered in her attack on Leo. He seized the opportunity, shoving her back with a grunt.

The man and the little girl, who I vaguely remembered them calling Sarah, stood frozen, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and confusion. The entire scene felt surreal, a bizarre pause in the middle of a fight.

Frustration gnawed at me. My body thrummed with a potent urge to fight, to test the limits of my newfound strength. But Rosalie's plea, her vulnerability, held me back.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to step back, the growl fading into a low rumble. The woman, sensing the shift, narrowed her eyes, but didn't advance.

"Let's go," Leo said, his voice strained. "We don't have time for this."

Part of me agreed. We had a long road ahead, and these people, these strange, manipulative survivors, were only a complication.

~

The sun beat down on the dusty windshield, turning the highway ahead into a shimmering mirage.

Inside the truck, an uneasy silence hung in the air.

Leo gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Sarah, the woman we'd rescued, sat beside him, her face drawn tight with worry.

In the back, Rosalie, the little girl with fiery red hair and eyes that shone an unnatural orange, was telling me about her life before the apocalypse.

Her words painted a picture of a chaotic world, eerily similar to our own.

"We were hiding in the basement," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "There were so many of them, banging on the door. But then, something changed."

A shiver ran down my spine. "What do you mean?"

"Mommy and Daddy… they weren't the same anymore," Rosalie continued, her voice trembling slightly.

"But they weren't like the others either. They were stronger, faster, but they still… loved us."

"Loved you?" I echoed, my voice laced with disbelief.

Rosalie nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "They said it was a gift, a way to survive. But they said they needed others, more like us."

My heart hammered in my chest. This echoed my own experience, the bite that had changed me, the desperate need for a cure.

But there was something more, something Rosalie wasn't saying.

"And then you?" I asked gently.

"They said you were special," Rosalie replied, her gaze meeting mine for a fleeting moment. "The key, they called you."

The blood drained from my face. Key? To what? Before I could press her further, a loud bang erupted, shattering the back window.

Glass rained down on us as the truck lurched to a halt.