Bloodlines of Survival

Chapter 5: Oh Shiitake mushrooms

The days following Gwen's return from the pharmacy were tense, filled with an underlying dread that neither she nor Jamie spoke about. The world outside was crumbling, but inside their home, they were holding on to the last threads of normalcy. Or at least trying to.

It was late in the evening when Gwen first noticed something was off with the twins. Samantha and Kohl had always been bundles of energy, but now they were different—quieter, more withdrawn. Gwen watched them closely as they sat at the dinner table, picking at their food with little enthusiasm.

"Mom, can you turn off the light?" Samantha's voice was soft, almost pained, as she squinted up at the overhead bulb. "It's too bright."

Gwen's stomach dropped. "But it's not that bright, sweetheart," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Are you okay?"

Samantha just nodded, her eyes downcast as she continued to push her food around her plate. But Gwen could see it—the discomfort etched on her daughter's face, the way she flinched at even the slightest noise.

Kohl wasn't any better. He had been unusually quiet all day, his usual chatter replaced by a tense silence. Now, he sat with his hands over his ears, wincing every time someone moved or spoke. "Mom," he finally whispered, his voice trembling, "it's so loud. Can you make it stop?"

Gwen's heart pounded in her chest, the implications of their symptoms crashing over her like a tidal wave. The heightened senses, the aversion to light—it was the same as what she had experienced in the early stages of her infection.

Her breath caught in her throat, panic surging through her. *Oh God, no. Please, not them. Not my babies.*

She glanced over at Jamie, who was watching the kids with a worried frown. "Maybe they're just tired," he suggested, though his voice lacked conviction. "It's been a rough few days."

But Gwen knew better. She could feel it in her bones, the sickening realization that the virus had somehow spread to her children. *It's my fault. I did this to them.*

The thought hit her like a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs. She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as she backed away from the table. Jamie looked up at her, concern deepening in his eyes. "Gwen, what's wrong?"

"I..." She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Her vision swam, the room spinning around her. How could she tell him? How could she admit that she had brought this horror into their home?

But she had no choice. They needed to know the truth—no matter how much it hurt.

"I'm infected," Gwen blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been infected for days."

The room fell silent, the weight of her confession hanging heavy in the air. Jamie stared at her, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't want to believe it at first," Gwen continued, her voice trembling. "But it's true. The virus... it's changing me. And now... now it's happening to them, too." Her voice broke as she gestured to the twins, who were watching her with wide, fearful eyes.

Jamie's face paled as the reality of her words sank in. He looked between Gwen and the kids, struggling to process the situation. "You've been... you've been hiding this from us?"

Gwen nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I thought I could protect you. I thought... I don't know what I thought. But I was wrong. I'm so sorry, Jamie. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want to hurt any of you."

Jamie's hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as he fought to contain his anger and fear. "So you've just been... lying to us? Letting this thing spread? What the hell were you thinking, Gwen?"

"I was scared," Gwen whispered, her voice thick with guilt. "I didn't know what to do. I was trying to figure out a way to stop it, to control it, but... but now it's too late."

Samantha whimpered, drawing both their attention. "Mommy, what's happening to us? Why do we feel like this?"

Gwen knelt beside her daughter, brushing a hand through her hair. "I don't know, sweetheart. I wish I did. But we're going to figure it out. I promise."

But even as she spoke the words, Gwen knew they were empty. The virus was relentless, a force of nature that couldn't be reasoned with or controlled. And now it was tearing her family apart from the inside.

Jamie turned away, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to keep his composure. "We need to do something," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "We need to find help. There has to be someone who can—"

"There's no one," Gwen interrupted, her voice hollow. "The world's gone to hell, Jamie. Hospitals are overrun. The government's collapsing. There's no one left to help us."

"Then what do we do?" Jamie demanded, turning back to face her. "Just sit here and wait for it to kill us? To turn us into monsters?"

Gwen flinched at his words, the truth of them cutting deep. But she forced herself to stand, to meet his gaze head-on. "No," she said, her voice firm. "We don't wait. We fight. We find a way to survive, no matter what it takes."

"And what if we can't?" Jamie asked, his voice trembling with emotion. "What if there's no way out?"

Gwen swallowed hard, the weight of the question settling over her like a shroud. "Then we protect each other," she said softly. "We stay together. And we don't let this thing take us without a fight."

For a long moment, the room was silent, the tension thick and suffocating. Then Jamie nodded, a grim determination settling over his features. "Alright," he said quietly. "Alright. We fight. But you have to promise me, Gwen—no more secrets. No more lies. We do this together, or we don't do it at all."

Gwen nodded, tears still streaming down her face. "I promise."

But even as she made that promise, a cold fear gripped her heart. Because she knew that no matter how hard they fought, the virus was inside them, spreading through their veins like poison. And sooner or later, it would win.