1. Bitten

I was sixteen years old when I was infected. My father, trying to make up for forgetting my mother's birthday, planned a family summer hiking trip in Europe. That's what they did on their honeymoon.

Neither one of my parents spoke German. I was taking Spanish in high school, so I wouldn't be much help. The main reason I agreed to go was the passport. The Spanish Club at my school was planning a trip to Spain for the juniors and seniors the following summer, and I desperately wanted to go.

My mother wasn't very big on going back to Germany, and she spent the entire time complaining about the smell of the college students staying in a room two doors down or the fact that she'd rather be in Paris, France shopping.

On the morning we decided to hike, she faked a migraine. "Go on, Gary," she said, covering her head with a blanket. "You and Quinn have fun."

I liked hiking, and that was the other reason I came along. My father's job kept us moving from city to city but he had convinced his company to keep him in Arizona until I graduated. I enjoyed hiking in Arizona, but it was just too hot. Europe had the potential to be cooler.

We got out to a trail head in a village whose name I couldn't pronounce at sunrise. My father had me help with his pack. He wasn't as fit as he was twenty-five years ago, but he still occasionally took the the stairs at work.

We hiked maybe a mile when he stopped, out of breath. "You go ahead, baby. I'll catch up."

I wasn't allowed to call my parents Mom and Dad. "Gary, we're in another country. Either one or both of us could get lost." I walked over to the tree he was leaning on. "Catch your breath and then we'll go back to the car. I won't tell Mary."

"No, Quinn. I'm not going to ruin this trip for you." He squeezed some water into his mouth.

"I think we'll get back to town in time for lunch."

Gary slid onto the ground with a loud thump. He started gasping for air and I instantly knelt down beside him. "Go…" he wheezed.

"There is no away I'm leaving you alone out here," I replied. "And we can't speak German. What do you want me to do?" He opened his mouth. "That doesn't involve me leaving."

Gary still couldn't get up when the sun came down. I quickly built a fire, only leaving his side only for a few moments. I said a silent prayer of thanks for the Girl Scouts and the full moon and sat down beside my sleeping father.

--

Next thing I knew, I heard foot steps coming in from our left. I tried to shake Gary awake. "Gary! Wake up! Somebody's coming!"

Gary pulled his jacket over his face. "Five more minutes," he groaned.

"Over here!" I called toward the footsteps. "It's my dad! He's hurt! Help!"

As they got closer, I recognized that they weren't footsteps, it sounded like an animal. I shook Gary. "Get up, Dad! It's an animal!"

Then everything went black.

--

I woke to an unbelievably sharp pain in my side. My shirt felt wet to touch and judging by my light-headedness, it was blood. Suddenly, my head was clear. I sat up and screamed, "Gary!"

An unfamiliar hand pushed me back onto the wet ground. "Rest, Little Moon," he said in a deep unrecognizable accent. "The Infection is still spreading."

I tried to push myself up, but he was either too strong or I was too weak. "Where's my father?" I asked in a surprising soft voice.

"I'm afraid I might have scared the poor man to death."

"He's dead?" I demanded, moving quickly enough that he couldn't stop me. I scooted to the back wall of the dark little cave. "Stay away from me, you—you monster!"

"I cannot leave you alone, Little Moon. You cannot possibly understand what is happening, my love." He reached for me and patted my leg.

At his touch, I felt something that was thrilling and unhealthy at the same time. Fear. Oh god, he's one of those guys who thinks he can get into a girl's pants by scaring the crap out of them. I took a deep breath. Don't let him know he's getting to you.

He didn't even look handsome, his hair was long and dirty and I couldn't even figure out what was clothing and what was skin. He was impossibly clean shaven and his features were sharp but still somehow gentle. He pushed my black hair out of my green eyes. "You feel what's in your veins. We call it the Infection."

The context behind those words was foreign, but I knew he was right. The wound on my side hurt like the dickens and the blood stain looked like a bite mark. "You—you bit me!" I said, spitting in his face. "You sicko!"

He restrained my failing arms. "You need to stay calm, or the Infection will spread too quickly and kill you."

I wailed with no discernable words and kicked his chest with both feet. He fell back and scrambled to his feet. He winced as he lifted up his shirt.

I had to close my eyes. I refused to gape at the six-pack I knew was there. It was too much. I was not going to develop captor dependency. I opened my eyes, unsuccessful in blocking my curiosity. I had been right. This guy was ripped, like major hottie ripped. He even looked good with the two boot marks on his chest.

As the heat rose to my face, he slid his shirt back down. "Pardon my manners, Little Moon. You appear younger then your reaction gages you."

I almost couldn't speak, "I—I—my name is Quinn, not Little Moon."

"Quinn, of course. I found this in the bag. I wondered if it was yours." In between his hands he held a tiny blue folder. Although I could not read the writing in the dim light, I knew it was my passport.

I growled at him as he threw in a previously unnoticed fire. "Hey, I need that to get home!"

"You can't go home." He knelt beside me. "Now, let me get a look at that bite."