Sometimes, the things we survive aren’t miracles—they’re warnings for what can be trusted and what cannot

I woke up feeling my body shaking, the humming sound surrounding me. My head throbbed, and my skin was clammy, a cold sweat clinging to me like a second layer. My arm—something was wrong with my arm. It burned.

I opened my eyes to realize—I’m in a car—a truck.

The ceiling light flickered above me, casting weak yellowish glows over the worn leather seats. The rhythmic vibration of the engine rumbled beneath me, but the sound barely registered. My mind was still trapped somewhere else, somewhere darker.

Blood. Screaming. Mom.

I inhaled sharply, my body jerking as the memory crashed over me like a tidal wave. My mother—her decayed face, her howls, the way her teeth tore into my flesh. My breath hitched. My fingers scrambled to touch my arm, finding fabric wrapped tightly around it. A bandage? No—someone had just torn a piece of their clothing and tied it around me. It was soaked through.

The front seat creaked.

“You’re awake.”

My eyes snapped forward. Kennedy. His hands gripped the wheel, knuckles white. His jaw was set, eyes locked on the road. He didn’t look at me, didn’t even glance in my direction.

My throat was dry. “Where—” My voice cracked, coming out weak and broken.

“Safe house.” His tone was clipped, flat.

I swallowed hard, trying to sit up, but a wave of dizziness slammed into me. My stomach churned. “I…” I didn’t know what I was going to say. My thoughts weren’t connecting. Nothing felt real.

Silence stretched between us, thick, suffocating.

Then I whispered, “My mom…”

Kennedy’s hands tightened on the wheel.

I turned my head to the window, staring at the blurred trees rushing past. The darkness outside felt endless, like if I opened the door, I’d be swallowed whole. My breath trembled as I spoke again, softer this time.

“She… She was still there, Kennedy.” I could hear how broken I sounded, how pathetic. “She—she looked at me. She…” My voice faltered. “What if she knew me?”

Kennedy let out a harsh breath, shaking his head. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

I clenched my fists. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what she was thinking.”

“She wasn’t thinking anything, kid.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy air like a blade. “She was gone the second she turned.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, trying to steady my breathing. “I should have done something.”

Kennedy’s grip on the wheel twitched, but he didn’t respond. The truck hummed forward, devouring the empty road ahead.

I looked down at my arm again, at the soaked bandage, and for the first time, a new thought whispered in the back of my mind—quiet, yet deafening.

I was bitten.

The realization sent ice through my veins.

I was bitten.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands shaking in my lap.

What happens now?

“Don’t worry, dear.”

I heard Sophie muttering softly to me, her voice like a distant echo, something warm in the cold fog of my mind. Slowly, gently, she ran her fingers through my hair—oily, tangled, stiff with dried sweat and blood. The touch was comforting, but it did nothing to stop the pounding in my chest.

I forced my heavy eyelids open. The world around me was a blur of dim lighting and muted colors. I wasn’t in the truck anymore. The scent of old wood and something herbal filled the air. A cabin? A house?

My body ached, my arm throbbed with every weak beat of my heart. I turned my head slightly, vision settling on Sophie’s face. Her usually kind eyes were lined with exhaustion, worry etching deep into the creases around them.

“There you are,” she whispered, offering a small, tired smile. “You had us worried.”

I swallowed, my throat dry and raw. “Where…?”

“Safe house,” she answered before I could finish, her voice calm but laced with something else—hesitation? “Kennedy drove all night.”

Kennedy.

My stomach twisted. The last thing I remembered was his voice, sharp and unrelenting, telling me not to do this to myself. The memory of my mother’s blood spraying through the air came crashing back. My breathing hitched.

Sophie’s hand moved to my forehead, her touch light. “Shh, it’s alright,” she soothed. “You need to rest.”

But how could I?

I was bitten.

My fingers twitched, slowly moving to my arm. The bandage was still there, but I could feel the heat radiating from underneath.

I met Sophie’s gaze. She knew.

They all knew.

“Don’t worry, young girl” Andy chuckled as Sophie hit him lightly.

“Honey, why are you laughing?” She questioned—not happy by her husband.

“That, youngster, Kennedy rubbed your bite in some bluish liquid he found in the truck we found earlier, when you blacked out.”

I blinked, my mind sluggish, trying to process what Andy had just said.

Bluish liquid?

“What…?” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Sophie shot Andy a disapproving look before turning back to me, her fingers still absently brushing through my hair. “Don’t listen to him, dear. He’s just trying to make light of the situation.”

“No, really!” Andy grinned, completely unfazed by the glare his wife was giving him. “Kennedy found some old bottle in the glove compartment. Didn’t have a label, just some weird blue stuff. He poured it right onto your bite like it was holy water or something.”

I felt my stomach churn.

Kennedy.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to sit up, though the motion made my head spin. “Where is he?”

Sophie sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Outside. Hasn’t come in since we got here.”

I glanced down at my bandaged arm, my fingers hesitating over the fabric.

Bluish liquid?

“How can he rub my bite in something unknown??” I yelled, not at them, but to express my anger.

“We understand, dear” Sophie sighed. “But look— you’re not infected, thank god!”

I froze.

Not infected?

Slowly, I looked down at my arm. My fingers trembled as I reached for the bandage, hesitating. My pulse pounded in my ears. It wasn’t possible. That’s not how it worked.

My breath hitched as I peeled back the fabric, expecting to see the angry red bite mark, the telltale sign of the infection creeping through my veins.

But…

The skin was still bruised, swollen, but there was no blackened rot, no spreading veins of sickness. My flesh wasn’t decaying.

I should be burning up by now, delirious, slipping away.

But I wasn’t.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Andy chuckled again. “I know, right? Thought Kennedy finally lost it, but looks like whatever that stuff was, it did something.”

Sophie shot him another warning look, then turned back to me. “We don’t know what it was, Alisha. But it’s a miracle.”

A miracle?

I clenched my jaw, my mind racing. That wasn’t how this worked. The infection didn’t just stop. There was no cure—or…AZI-1?

But here I was.

Alive.

And Kennedy… Kennedy had known what he was doing.

I pushed the blanket off me, forcing myself to stand despite my shaky legs. “Where is he?”

Sophie sighed. “Alisha, you need to rest—”

“Where is he?” My voice was sharper now, edged with something desperate.

Sophie hesitated, then glanced toward the door. “Outside. By the truck.”