On the other side, Reize and Stella were also settling into their room. It wasn't as spacious as the boys' room, but the warmth of the blankets and the familiarity of the place were enough to give them a sense of temporary relief. Reize let out a long sigh, letting herself fall onto the bed, arms open and eyes fixed on the ceiling.
—Finally, a safe place... even if it's just for today —she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment as if that would allow her to leave everything she had experienced behind.
Stella sat down gently on the other side, her gestures always measured, her back straight, and her hands in her lap. Her gaze swept calmly around the room before she nodded with a small smile.
—That's right... Just for today, that's enough.
Reize turned her head slightly toward her, pursing her lips in a thoughtful expression.
—You know? Sometimes I wonder if we'll get used to this... —she whispered—. To running, hiding, seeking refuge for a few hours before starting all over again.
Stella looked away toward the window. The pale moonlight cast soft silhouettes on the walls.
—Maybe... —she said quietly—. But I don't think you ever really get used to something like this. We just... learn to endure it.
Reize smiled wearily.
—You seem very wise, Stella...
Stella shrugged slightly, with natural humility.
—I'm just speaking from what we've been through. Every time we find a place like this, even though we know it's temporary... I prefer to be grateful that we can still have a break. Even if it's small.
Reize was silent for a few seconds. Then he sat up a little, leaning on one elbow, with a raised eyebrow and a brighter smile.
—I'm glad to share a room with you, you know? You're like that sensible little voice in this crazy world.
Stella let out a soft laugh, covering her mouth slightly with her hand.
—And I'm glad to be here with you. If it were up to me, I might never leave the hideouts. But everyone reminds me that sometimes you have to run... and fight.
Reize let her head fall back onto the pillow, this time with a lighter sigh.
—I guess we make a good team, huh?
—I guess so —Stella replied, her voice filled with a warmth she rarely showed.
They looked at each other for a moment, knowing. Something more than simple camaraderie had emerged: a strong, silent friendship. They didn't need to say much more. Words were unnecessary when the bond was so clear.
Little by little, the conversation died down. Their breathing slowed and became more rhythmic. The stillness of the room, the warmth of the blankets, and the soft murmur of the wind outside enveloped them. Finally, they both fell asleep under the dim light of the moon shining through the window, allowing themselves, at least for that night, to let their guard down.
In the second-floor bedroom, Althea settled herself on the bed with slow movements. She placed Max at the foot of the bed and covered him with a small blanket. The puppy immediately curled up, letting out a soft sigh that made her smile.
Delma, lying next to her, watched her tenderly. Her gaze reflected deep affection.
It was then that Althea broke the silence, her voice low and sincere:
—I'm glad to see you again, Delma.
Delma slowly turned toward her. Her features were serious, although the usual hardness in her expression melted into a small, sweet smile.
—Me too, Althea... —she replied softly. A shadow crossed her gaze—. I'm so sorry about your parents. It must have been horrible for you.
Althea pressed her lips together. The words hit her right in the chest, as if the air had suddenly become denser.
—My mom... —she began, her voice breaking—. She died to save me. And my dad... he stayed behind. Those men said he was dead, but I... — couldn't do anything for them.
Tears began to fill her eyes, glistening in the light of the fire. She lowered her head, trying to hold back, but her voice came out broken, barely a whisper.
—I tried... I really did... but it all happened so fast...
Delma reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.
—Shh… —she whispered—. You don't have to say any more. You're not alone anymore, okay?
But Althea couldn't stop the sobs from reaching her. Her shoulders shook as tears fell freely down her cheeks. Delma didn't hesitate for a moment: she leaned toward her and hugged her tightly, enveloping her in a warmth that came not from the fire, but from the silent promise of protection.
—Cry as much as you need to —she whispered close to her ear—. I'm here for you. I won't let anyone, not those people or those creatures, hurt you again.
Althea clung to her, burying her face against her chest. Her shaky breathing mingled with the steady rhythm of Delma's heart, which rocked her as if it wanted to erase every wound with its calmness.
—Why are you so good to me... after everything? —Althea asked through her tears.
Delma smiled, barely perceptibly.
—Because, like your parents, I love you very much, and just as they would, I will protect you and be with you to remind you that there is still light, even after so much pain.
Silence returned, but this time it wasn't heavy. It was a soft silence, full of comfort. Little by little, Althea's sobs subsided, replaced by slower and slower breaths. Delma continued to stroke her hair, in a constant, protective motion.
Finally, exhaustion overcame the pain. Still embracing, they both fell asleep, breathing at the same pace, as if the world outside had ceased to exist for a moment.
The next morning, dim light began to seep through the curtains in Arika's room. The air was cool, and the house was still silent.
Arika slowly opened her eyes. She blinked, still drowsy, and sat up slowly.
As she turned her head, she noticed the note Koen had left her next to a cookie and a bottle of water. She smiled softly, picking up the food with her hands. After eating slowly, she stretched her arms. Something was different. The pain... had almost completely disappeared.
She frowned, suspicious. Her body felt strange, lighter. Her muscles didn't hurt. Her breathing was deep, steady... too steady.
That's when, without warning, her cell phone vibrated on the table.
The sound startled her. She knew there had been no signal for a long time.
With growing unease, she picked it up.
An official message appeared on the screen, stamped with the government seal:
Citizens: After failed containment efforts, the infection has crossed our borders. Several cities have fallen. Strategic bombing is authorized to eliminate infested areas. Survivors are ordered to evacuate the following cities...
The bombing will begin one week after this message is broadcast at 6:00 p.m. We wish you luck.
His fingers trembled. His throat closed up.
One week...
It was too little time. Far too little. They had to flee as soon as possible.
Without thinking, he began to remove the bandage from his arm. But as he did so, he stopped.
Her skin... smooth. Perfect. Without the slightest scar.
The air seemed to disappear. His heart began to pound so hard in his chest that he thought the whole room could hear it.
It couldn't be. It couldn't be.
With a frantic movement, she pulled the bandage off her thigh.
The result was the same: smooth, intact skin, no scar, no bruise, no pain.
As if she had never been injured.
A chill ran down her spine, so sharp that it made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
—What... what is this? —susurró, con la voz rota, temblorosa.
she whispered, her voice broken and trembling.
Then she realized something: the wound she had sustained when the glass cut her was too large and deep, causing her to faint. And when Koen checked the wound, it had decreased in size, although its appearance indicated that it was getting worse, but that was because of the movement. She thought she was wrong, downplaying its importance, but now...
Her lips parted slightly. Her breathing became irregular, ragged. Everything inside her screamed that something was wrong, something impossible, something that shouldn't be happening.
At that moment, the door burst open.
Koen burst into the room, his face pale and his breathing heavy, his expression a mixture of fear and urgency.
—Arika —he said, barely catching his breath—. You have to listen to me, something has happened...
But his words died when he saw her. His gaze immediately fixed on her.
Arika turned slowly, her large eyes filled with fear.
Koen stopped, his heart sinking.
Why do you look like that? he thought, his stomach in knots. Was she in pain? Had her injuries perhaps worsened?
His eyes instinctively dropped to his arm... but the bandage was gone, replaced by flawless skin, without a single scratch.
Then his gaze moved down to his leg... the same thing.
Silence fell over them, so thick you could feel it on your skin.
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
Koen stood motionless, his eyes wide, his soul in knots.
—Arika… —he whispered, his voice breaking—. What's wrong?
She stared at him, her eyes wide open. Her face was pale, her hands trembling.
She wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.
Koen stood frozen, swallowing hard, his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched.
He knew something strange was going on with Arika. He just didn't know... what it was.