Bloodlines of Survival

Chapter 17: The Asshole

Gwen's eyes flew open, a throbbing ache radiating from her neck. Disoriented and weak, she struggled to sit up, her vision blurring as she took in her surroundings. She was in a dimly lit room, concrete walls looming around her. A single, fluorescent bulb buzzed overhead, casting harsh light that sent sharp pangs through her sensitive eyes. Panic began to rise as she realized her hands were bound to the arms of a metal chair. She tugged at the restraints, her wrists sore from the unforgiving cuffs.

Memories flashed before her—sneaking a few hours of sleep by the fire, Kohl and Samantha tucked close beside her. The footsteps. The sharp, searing pain in her neck.

She turned her head, scanning the small room. No windows. A heavy metal door, bolted shut. The hum of machines somewhere behind the walls. Her stomach twisted; this wasn't some makeshift camp or outpost. This was a military facility.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped in, dressed in dark tactical gear with an insignia she didn't recognize. His face was hard, unreadable, but his eyes held a cold curiosity as he studied her.

"So, you're awake," he said, folding his arms.

Gwen clenched her jaw, forcing herself to keep her gaze steady despite the burning hunger gnawing at her insides. "Where are my kids?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Your children are safe for now, though I can't promise they'll stay that way." He pulled up a metal chair across from her, his movements deliberate, calm. "Your condition, however... that's another story."

Gwen glared, her pulse pounding with a mixture of fear and rage. "What do you want from me?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Your eyes give you away, you know. The virus has... changed you, but you're still in control, and that makes you valuable. We've seen the infected mutate, some holding on to parts of themselves, others..." He paused, glancing down as if he were choosing his words carefully. "Others becoming something else entirely."

"Get to the point," Gwen snapped, her voice hoarse.

He smirked, unimpressed by her defiance. "You're one of the few who've held off the virus's effects, maintained some semblance of humanity. We're... curious as to why."

Gwen's skin prickled. "So you abducted me to study me? To what—experiment on me like a lab rat?"

"Something like that," he said, his voice unyielding. "You may have information, antibodies, anything that could give us an advantage. And you'll cooperate... or your children will pay the price."

Her heart plummeted, fear flooding her veins. She bit back the urge to lunge forward, to fight, to scream. Her vision wavered with black edges as she fought to keep the darkness at bay. "If you hurt them, I'll make you regret it."

The man's smirk faded, replaced by a colder, harder look. "If you cooperate, you'll be fed. We know the jerky worked... for now. But that's a temporary solution, isn't it?"

The reminder of her hunger clawed at her, sharp and relentless. She forced herself to stay composed, though the ache gnawed at her insides, leaving her breath ragged.

"What do you want me to do?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We're going to run some tests, starting now," he replied, gesturing toward the door. Two guards entered, standing on either side of her. They unfastened her wrists, but one of them kept a tight grip on her arm, his expression cautious.

"Follow me," he said, leading her down a stark, sterile hallway. The walls were lined with observation windows, each revealing rows of empty examination rooms and glass-enclosed cells. The sight made Gwen's skin crawl; she wasn't the first "patient" they'd held here.

They stopped at one of the rooms, where a cold metal table and an array of medical tools waited under blinding fluorescent lights. Her stomach twisted as she took in the sight. The guards nudged her forward, their grips firm as they guided her to the table.

The man from before reappeared, now gloved and holding a syringe filled with a dark, viscous liquid. He held it up, meeting her gaze with unsettling calm. "This won't hurt... much. It's just a sample, something to see how your body reacts under certain conditions."

Gwen swallowed, her resolve hardening. If there was any chance to get back to her kids, she would endure this, hold on through whatever they threw at her. For Kohl, for Samantha.

As the needle pierced her skin, she clenched her fists, focusing on the image of her children, her family. She could feel the virus stir inside her, the hunger flaring with a violent intensity she hadn't felt before. She wouldn't give in. She would fight this... and, somehow, she would find a way to escape.