Elion remained outside. He walked silently through the streets, keeping an eye on every corner, making sure there was no danger. Finally, he came to a small convenience store, one of those that seemed to have stood the test of time… though not the looting.
He entered cautiously. The interior was in ruins: empty shelves, broken glass, and the floor covered with trampled packaging. Even so, he opened his backpack and began to fill it with what little was left that was useful: a few cans, a couple of bottles of water, a half-torn package of rice.
He was almost done when he saw it.
A chocolate bar, dusty but intact, between the cracks of a fallen shelf. He smiled. Hael will be happy about this.
But just then, a sharp noise echoed outside. Footsteps, something dragging. He quickly closed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
He peered through a broken crack in the door. His body tensed. Several infected were moving nearby, perhaps attracted by a sound or his scent.
I can't stay.
He held his breath, gathered his courage… and ran out.
The infected immediately sensed him and began to follow him. Elion zigzagged through alleys, jumping over obstacles, turning corners, doing everything he could to lose them. His heart was pounding in his ears, but he couldn't stop.
Finally, he managed to lose them.
He was in a narrow alleyway. He was breathing heavily, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline. To one side was a rusty metal door. It was the back entrance to a house.
Quickly, he took a wire out of his pocket and picked the lock. Come on... come on... With a soft click, the door gave way.
Elion entered immediately and closed it behind him.
The interior was silent. It smelled of old wood and dust. The house had at least three levels, with an old, almost stately structure, but it was uninhabited.
He explored carefully. He checked every room, every corner. No one.
In the kitchen, he found some jars and an almost untouched bag of cookies. He put them in his backpack. He couldn't stay too long. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his chest... and Aslan. The image of his friend came to mind, weak, sick. Something was wrong.
He went back to the back door, opened it carefully, and scanned the street.
It was clear.
He left the house and started running again. He had to get back as soon as possible. His brother was waiting for him... and that uneasiness in his chest was only growing.
Elion ran through alleys, avoiding the main roads. The backpack bounced on his back with every stride, but he didn't stop. Something weighed heavier than fatigue or fear: the uneasiness that had been tightening his chest since he left the convenience store.
What if Aslan got worse?
He jumped over a low fence and landed awkwardly on the other side. His ankle hurt, but he kept going.
It wasn't normal for him to feel so bad. Aslan had always been strong. Even when we hurt ourselves in the old factory, he was the first to get up and say he was fine.
His steps quickened. He was no longer running out of caution, but out of necessity. He needed to get there. To see Hael. To see Aslan. To know for sure that his friend would be okay.
What if it's not just a fever? What if he was bitten?
He shook his head as he clenched his teeth. No... Aslan wouldn't be stupid enough to hide it... would he?
The sounds of the world around him seemed to fade away at times. All that remained was his heavy breathing, the echo of his footsteps, and that sharp buzzing sound that comes from fear.
He remembered the chocolate. He had saved it eagerly, thinking of Hael's smile. Now it seemed so small, so useless in the face of the threat that loomed over them like a shadow.
He passed through the abandoned square and crossed the main street, the same one they used to take to school. Everything was in ruins, covered with plants, old wood, and dust. And silence. A heavy silence.
What if it's too late?
The image of Hael, alone, without him... made him run faster. As if the ground were burning.
No. Not again. I'm not going to lose anyone else.
The neighborhood building appeared in the distance. Elion stopped for a moment, breathing heavily. He leaned one hand against the cracked wall of a store and closed his eyes.
—Please… let them be okay—she whispered.
He stood up straight, adjusted her backpack... and kept going.
He had to know the truth.
Meanwhile, at Stella's house, the tension was mounting. She knelt in front of Hael, looked him straight in the eye, and asked him calmly:
—Do you remember what we talked about when all this started?
Hael nodded silently. Then his memory inevitably took him back to that neighborhood courtyard.
Everyone was gathered there: Stella, Hael, Elion, Aslan, Javier, Julia, Enzo, and three other young people. They were exhausted, their clothes stained with dirt and dried blood. Some held sticks, others a makeshift axe. The air smelled of sweat and fear.
Enzo spoke seriously:
—From now on, everything will be monitored. Who comes in, who goes out. No carelessness.
Elion added, looking at everyone:
—It would be better to use codes to alert each other without causing a commotion. Something quick and easy to understand.
Stella nodded and suggested:
—We can use colors: yellow if we are invaded, black if there are casualties... and red if we discover an infected person among us.
Everyone nodded in agreement with the proposals. But a few hours later, those words took on an unbearable weight.
On the third floor, in a room with walls still intact, a window that let in the gray afternoon light, and beds that were poorly made but surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the building, the three boys shared laughter and conversation. Diego, Martin, and Samuel: inseparable friends, brothers beyond blood. That small space had become their refuge, a corner where they could still pretend that normality had not completely disappeared.
But the illusion was shattered suddenly.
Diego, tall and skinny, with messy hair and dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights, began to act strangely. First dizziness, then tremors. At first they thought he was just exhausted, until they saw the bite on his arm, the skin around it turning red and purple like a cursed mark.
Martín jumped up, ran to the window, and shouted with all his might:
—Red!
When he turned around, horror paralyzed him. Diego's body shook with violent spasms until, with a guttural roar, he rose from the bed transformed into something unrecognizable. His breathing was rough, his eyes glassy, his jaw trembling like a rabid animal.
—No… no, no, no! —Martín stammered, backing away—. Diego!
Samuel barely had time to react. With a muffled cry, he raised the broken wooden leg he was holding as a club, just as Diego lunged at them with brutal speed. The collision knocked over one of the beds, and in the confined space, the struggle began.
Martin tried to hold him from behind, as if he could still restrain him, as if there was still something of his friend left in that body.
—Diego, please! Listen to me! —he begged through his tears.
But the Diego they knew was gone. With monstrous strength, he threw him backwards. Martin fell backwards against a metal coat rack leaning in the corner of the room. The sound was sharp and heartbreaking: the rusty tip pierced his side. His scream was drowned in blood as he hung there, motionless, like a broken puppet.
—¡MARTÍN! —Samuel roared, his eyes wild.
Fury consumed him. He lunged at Diego and plunged the wooden stick into his chest again and again. Diego growled, writhed, and managed to bite his shoulder, tearing flesh from it. Samuel screamed in pain, but he didn't stop. With blood running down his arm and his breath coming in gasps, he pushed him to the ground.
In a final burst of desperation, he grabbed a piece of broken glass from the window and plunged it straight into the infected man's neck. Diego shuddered, let out a muffled growl, and lay still forever.
The room fell silent. All that could be heard was the dripping of blood staining the floorboards.
Samuel staggered, the skin around the bite already beginning to darken. He looked at the bodies of his two friends: Martin still impaled on the coat rack, Diego dead at his feet.
His lips trembled.
—Forgive me, brothers… —he murmured, his voice breaking.
With no strength left to resist the inevitable, Samuel took the still-bloody glass and, with a steady motion, brought it to his neck. Blood spurted out in a hot stream as he fell to his knees, collapsing next to Diego.
Heavy footsteps echoed on the wooden staircase as the rest of the group came upstairs, alerted by the screams and commotion. The metallic smell of blood hit them before they opened the door.
Stella pushed open the door and everyone stood motionless.
The room was a battlefield: the bed overturned, furniture broken, the wall stained red. And there, three lifeless bodies. Martin hung from the coat rack, his face frozen in a grimace of pain. Diego lay motionless, his skin still marked by infection. Samuel had glass embedded in his neck.
A deathly silence enveloped them. Only the wind coming in through the broken window dared to make a sound.
Hael, who had run after Elion, was petrified when he saw them. His lips moved, but no sound came out. His eyes filled with tears, and in a fit of desperation, he clung tightly to Elion's arm.
—No… no… them… —he murmured, trembling.
Elion hugged him tightly, covering his eyes, although it was too late. His jaw was stiff, rage burning inside him, but his voice sounded calm:
—It's over… calm down, Hael. It's over.
Stella took a deep breath, fighting the trembling in her hands. She took a black cloth out of her pocket and hung it at the entrance. The wind made it flutter in the darkness, a silent mourning.
No one moved. No one knew what to say. The weight of loss crushed them.
—They fought until the end… —Stella whispered, her voice hoarse.
Hael sobbed, shaking like a leaf. Elion leaned his face toward him and, in a grave tone that remained etched in his memory, whispered:
—Hael, listen… if you ever see a bite with red or purple skin, get away immediately. Don't hesitate. It's infected. Don't go near it. Do you understand?
The memory broke, and Hael returned to the present, the images still burning in his mind.
Stella looked at him seriously, her voice grave:
—Is it the same case as then?
Hael swallowed hard. He remembered the screams, the blood, the lost look in the eyes of his friend who was no longer human. In a faint voice, he replied:
—Yes… it's the same.
Stella's breathing quickened. She leaned toward him, her eyes fixed on his.
—Then tell me, Hael… who is infected?
Althea, upon hearing the word, was alarmed. She instinctively hugged Max tightly.
—Infected...? —she whispered fearfully.
—It's… Aslan —Hael replied, pressing his lips together in frustration.
—It can't be… That idiot! How did he let this happen to him? —Stella slammed her open hand on the table—. How is he?
—Very bad. He has a fever, he's burning up… and he's not getting any better—said Hael, looking down.
—Damn… —muttered Stella—. Where is he?
—At his grandparents' house.
—What?! Let's go right now! If he's really infected… he could hurt them.
—Don't worry, they went to the store for medicine and I don't think they'll be back yet.
—Thank goodness… —Stella sighed with relief—. But it's best to take care of this now.
Meanwhile, the grandparents walked toward the store, chatting about trivial things, until they reached the door.
—Pass me the key, Javier, so I can open it —Julia said, holding out her hand.
—The key? —he asked, scratching the back of his neck —. I don't have it.
—What do you mean? I gave it to you yesterday to keep.
—Oh… I forgot to keep it —he admitted, somewhat embarrassed.
Julia sighed.
—Well… then go back and look for it.
—Okay, but… where did you leave it? —he asked, trying to smile to lighten the mood.
—On the nightstand in the bedroom —she replied firmly.
—Are you sure? There was nothing there this morning.
—That's strange… —Julia muttered, frowning.
—Maybe… I put it in the closet without realizing it, when my clothes fell on the table and I wanted to put them away in the closet —said Javier, smiling nervously.
Julia closed her eyes for a moment, trying to maintain her composure.
—Oh, Javier… how can you be so clumsy? Let's both go, so I can help you look for it.
He smiled, with a hint of mischief.
—See, that's why I married you... so you can always save me from my forgetfulness.
—And I married you so I'd have someone to give me extra work —she replied, shaking her head, but with a slight smile.
They both turned around and walked back to the house together.