Lunar Virus ✔️

Chapter Twenty-three: Elodie

My pulse pounds in my fingertips, and I feel slightly light headed as I inch the door open. Mercifully, the door doesn’t dare creak. I carefully poke my head out of the doorway, and my stomach unclenches a bit when I see that there’s no one there. The voices we’d heard before must have just been people going back to their rooms.

I look over my shoulder towards the others and silently take the time to absorb the stark fear on their faces. Each eye is given a sallow glow in the cast of the moonlight. I feel cold as Elie’s fingers leave my shoulder and try to ignore a sinking feeling that comes with it. I briefly look back at him. He catches my eyes with his and his lips tighten. “We’re right behind you,” he murmurs.

Without any further delay, I slip out through the doorway with the backpack firmly strapped to me. Above me is the dead, rusty-red glow of a weak neon motel sign, and farther down the parking lot, I spot our car just beyond a line of bushes. The lot is lined with dimming street lamps, not really doing a good job of illuminating anything. I make a run for it anyway, only looking back once to make sure everyone is following.

I run without thinking. I can’t feel my feet, and I’m going so fast that if I stop I just might fall. I just might stop forever. All I focus on is the line of bushes--it’s the halfway point to our car,which is parked right in the corner of the lot with another car parked in the spot next to it. Shit. Who’s car is that?

I’m just about to reach the line of bushes when Elie’s hand darts out to stop me. He grabs my hand and pulls me back slightly. I give him a questioning look, but say nothing, trusting in his instincts. Jayne on the other hand just sidesteps Elie and keeps running forward.

A flash of panic courses through me and I whisper-shout after her. “Jayne, come back.” She shoots me a crazed look and points to the car, which is only a few meters away. She crosses the line of bushes, and I sense a flurry of movement.

A crippling sensation of a mix of anxiety and terror grips my core with cold fingers and numbs my mind of all thoughts except one: save Jayne.

Elie’s grip tightens as if he realizes what I’m about to do, but I break free anyway.

And all of a sudden I’m exposed, vulnerable. I have no one behind me and no warm hand to encourage me, but I’m already there.

The figure rises--rises slowly as if through molasses--and I struggle through as the image sharpens in front of me. There’s an evil flash of a weapon in the person's hand, and I lunge. Everything I had ever learned about self-defense crumbles and is left to nothing but pure, animalistic instinct.

I feel myself fall as the figure crumples. We tumble into the bushes, which are taller than I’d previously imagined.

Branches snag my skin and comb through my hair roughly. We hit the ground hard and my head is strikes against the pavement. I moan as tendrils of pain shoot through my skull and a fog clouds my vision. Forcing myself to stay conscious, I push myself up as much as the bushes will allow and focus on the figure next to me. A woman. Her hair is splayed like a spider web around her and wound around branches.

Her hair.

Her hair is red.

Diane Warhol.

Like confetti, her hair clings to everything. Strands tickle my nose and my throat and tease my eyes, making them water.

Frantically, I try to rise up from out of the bush to get away while she’s down. My hair tugs me back and I realize that Warhol is conscious with my hair wrapped around her index finger. “Oh,” she sighs, “What beautiful hair.”

Stomach churning, I try to jerk my hair out of her grip.

“No!” She winds her fingers further into my hair, and she raises her other hand--the hand that wields the weapon that I had seen before--and runs the edge along a lock of my hair.

“You know,” her lips tremble as if she's about to cry, but her eyes--black, lifeless eyes, are void of any emotion, “I had a daughter once. She had pretty hair just like yours. But you know what? It started to fall out. It started to fall out just like mine is now.”

The knife inches downward and rests on the hollow in my neck. I feel the pulse under my skin jump to meet the knife.

“She was infected. She said that it was a good virus. That it was keeping her healthy. But it was only a matter of time before she started declining. That damn virus thought it was being merciful by stopping the spread in her body. Thought it was being merciful by not taking over and killing her straight.” The knife starts to shake. “But it wasn’t merciful at all. Nothing could stop just its simple presence inside her body from hurting her--making her suffer. Death was inevitable. Just like death is inevitable for me. And for your boy too--what’s his name? Eli? He’s going to die too. Just wait. You’ll get to see him suffer.”

I struggle to swallow with the knife against my throat, and in the wake of this news, I feel like I’ve forgotten just how I’m supposed to swallow.

“Darling,” her hand steadies, and I feel a trickle of warmth run down to my collar bone. “You’re scared, aren’t you?” She laughs harshly. “That’s what does it. That’s all it takes. An icy fear and a broken heart. And all of a sudden, you’re not alone in your thoughts anymore. There's a parasite right there to share your insanity with you.”

***

Author's Note:

Yes, another short one. But I thought it would be a good place to end. What do you think of the recent developments?

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