The bite had clotted over, a distinct fungal coloring scabbing over the raw flesh, iron pulsing underneath with the fading pain. Riley leaned the tip of the switchblade at the edge of the wound, holding it just so the blade's tip brushed the base of her thumb. With her lips pressed shut she pushed down, splitting the skin back open.
Before the first drop of blood dripped out, Riley pulled the blade away and clamped her mouth over the bite, the taste dissolving into a disgusting mix of fungus and iron. She sucked the liquid down her throat until her tongue hurt and her hand throbbed in agony, and then she ripped it away, slumping back against the wall behind her.
Her stomach was tossing like the surf that was bound to be hundreds of miles across the country. Los Angeles had always been a pipe dream, but it never felt so hopeless of a destination until now. That wasn't the worst of it though.
Blood continued to trail down her hand, a slow descent of red warmth following the lines on her palm and the curves of her wrist, mocking her with its lack of fever, her mind still vivid with the memory of… of everything.
"Don't do this to me," Riley begged the empty air above her. "Please don't do this to me."
The world around her faded to static, and she reached for the backpack beside her, dragging it on her lap, ignoring the blood running down her skin. With her clean hand—cleaner, not clean, she had used both hands to hold Ellie and no, that name is… she's gone—Riley fished through the inside of the bag, and pulled out the Walkman.
She slipped the buds into her ears, hitting the power button once, twice, because she didn't hit it hard enough and she was trembling still, and the music began and started swimming through her ears
It should have been the perfect ambiance to send her off, and she tried to relax and give into the sound. Riley was numb, but her chest ached to open up and sob with the whelm of feeling stirring within her.
Riley took a breath, lifting her hand back to her mouth, "I'm right behind you, Ellie."
Too much time had passed since she was bitten. Cordyceps Brain Infection took a maximum of two days to completely destroy the body's original host, yet here she still was.
It was a fluke, Riley was sure. She had witnessed others, so many others. An incredible agony they suffered through, some begged; to put them out of their misery, to let them live, until they weren't themselves anymore.
So she drank. And the more blood Riley took in, the worse her stomach twinged, and her throat shivered with nausea. She kept at it until her hand began to tingle at the loss of feeling. She took one last empty swallow and let her arm drop.
Riley hugged her backpack to her chest, cramming her face against the material and taking in the lingering smell of her best friend. She didn't cry. She thought of Ellie, who certainly wouldn't mind her crying, but thinking that made it worse and she shut her eyes until the tears burned back into her eyeballs.
It had to just be a little longer. The music was still buzzing in her ears. Riley couldn't help the thought that this wasn't such a bad way to go, lost in the static as she tried to feel herself slipping away, but then hunger began to gnaw from her belly, and she woke back to the world beyond her bubble.
A dissatisfied grunt erupted from her, and Riley squirmed where she sat, the idea of relaxing now too foreign for her body to grasp. It was no use. She had enough strength to move still, and that was enough of a thought to get her on her feet.
White noise crackled from the Walkman, and Riley reached for up to the left bud in her ear, but there was no shift meaning the crackling wasn't from the headphones, but the Walkman itself. It must have gotten busted with the infected running all over the place.
The idea of turning it off doesn't sit well with her, thinking it might be standing on its last legs, but she pushed the thought away. She kept a firm hold of the Walkman as she travelled through the mall. If nothing else, walking around meant the infection in her blood would travel faster through the rest of her body. Everything would be over then. No more static.
The surrounding air felt more polluted than ever, stinking of foul water and dust that might as well have been spores. But the infected weren't nearby as far as Riley could tell. She kept close to the walls, afraid of losing her balance. When she came to the escalator leading down to the first floor, she stopped, palm hovering over the rotating hand rail, feeling the material brush her skin, the friction grabbing for her, trying to drag her down before she was ready.
Riley took a deep breath, staring down at the bottom of the cycling stairs and focusing on nothing else but making it down there. She raised her leg slowly, letting her sole rest down on one of the passing steps and pressing her hand onto the railing at the same time, the same lurch in her stomach as before when the escalator carried her, made only worse by the hunger still sitting inside her stomach.
She was lucky—that's what she tried to believe anyway—seeing as she had no trouble making her way out of the mall. Whatever infected were still in there didn't cross her path, and for better or worse, Riley was back in the streets of the Boston Quarantine Zone.
Her worry transferred over to soldiers. She was bitten, but she was still alive, and if she was seen… The front of her shirt was stained in red, and dried rivulets of blood were caked into the skin of her arm. The soldiers wouldn't even bother looking for a bite if they spotted her like this.
Riley quietly moved to a dark alley, slumping her pack over her shoulder to the ground. She yanked the ear buds out, resting the Walkman on the ground, music still playing, and she shrugged off her jacket, her tank top following seconds later. Getting the old grimy clothes off her sweaty body was a relief she tried to find joy in, but it was short lived. Her motions were mechanic, focused only on the task at hand.
She pulled out a rolled up shirt, opening it up, refusing to stare at the design at the center. The red fabric felt cool over her skin, if not a bit itchy from doing nothing but collect dust for the past two decades.
Next, she took out the switchblade and cut off another strip from her jacket, wrapping it around her left palm, doing her best to conceal where she had been bitten. It probably drew more attention to her hand than before, but it was something. If she was spotted by a civilian at least, perhaps it would make them hesitate long enough for her to get away. At any rate, Riley didn't want to be reminded of what happened every time she looked down at herself
She rolled her old clothes and placed them in Ellie's—her—backpack, then moved to zip it shut. She hesitated, glancing down to the Walkman lying on the ground. She reached over and turned the power off, carefully putting it back into the pack as well.
Riley threw the backpack over her shoulders, standing up, and checked around the corner to make sure it was clear. All she needed to do now was lay low and not do anything to draw suspicion her way.
Moving through the city was slow. The paths Riley normally used were too conspicuous to chance during the day. With the sun beating at her back, she carefully made her way to a building and found an unlocked window, pushing it open and reaching through the frame, grabbing the inside wall and pulling herself through in a swift jump, feet hitting the floor and bringing dust into the air. She inhaled and barely managed a cough, exhaustion making it easy to ignore the struggle to breathe.
She was only halfway across the room when she noticed something odd about the walls. Her vision blurred, the room distorting and spinning around her. Riley nearly buckled over from the rush of vertigo. She tried to reach a wall but her knees went down. She didn't feel any pain. The sound of a voice echoed in her ear: please, please, Riley, I need you to—Riley shut her eyes, trying to block out the memory, please—I don't want to tear you apart.
There wasn't enough time for Riley to cry before she blacked out.
x
Oddly enough, she didn't remember waking up. Her body felt drained, and she knew right away that she'd been out for more than just a few minutes. But how long she had been awake, she didn't know. It was as if she had just been placed into a moment of consciousness without her consent. It should've been more disorientating than it was, but she grabbed her bearings quickly.
In her hands was a bowl of rat soup. It didn't burn to hold, but there was steam rising from the top. Riley realized she was sitting in a wooden chair, the kind that made one conform in an uncomfortable posture, but she was just glad to be off her feet and not on the ground.
"Eat up." Marlene said, and Riley noted that she wasn't surprised to see her. Marlene had gotten her the soup, right? She had her sit down at least. Marlene was sitting in an identical chair across from her, probably a few feet of space between them. Riley found she couldn't focus on her face right away.
"I need you to tell me what happened."
Food for information then. Riley tried to think. She was trying to figure why she hadn't been shot on sight. But knowing Marlene, she probably knew already. Killing Riley was unnecessary then.
"How long…?" She let the question hang. Finally she looked at the woman's face, but Marlene's expression told her little. Riley wondered which version she was talking to. Was this Marlene the same one who showed her fondness, willing to share stories about Ellie's mother with her, or was this the Queen of the Fireflies, interested in nothing but tests and order?
"Eat." Marlene said, so she did. The broth was heavy and the meat had been freshly cooked. Riley's hunger took over, forgetting everything else as she consumed her meal. The whole time Marlene was quiet. She went between watching Riley to staring at the far wall.
When Riley finally paused, her body feeling better already, that was when Marlene started talking.
"We think it's only been a few hours." She began. Riley had a little broth still at the bottom of her bowl. She brought another spoonful to her mouth.
"Qasim and Melanie found you and brought you here," Marlene went on." They hadn't thought to check you beforehand. I don't know if I blame them. You weren't running a fever."
Riley didn't know how she hadn't noticed. The makeshift bandage around her hand was gone. She unfolded her fingers, staring at the wound. It didn't look entirely like a bite mark anymore. Where she had split the skin was starting to heal over, distorting a few of the teeth marks. It wasn't enough to fool someone upon close inspection, but if they hadn't thought to look at it properly, they could mistake the bite as some other kind of injury.
"I'm immune." Riley said. The bite was still raw and pale and it hurt but that was important. She couldn't forget the ache that came with it. The price that came with finding out something this important.
Marlene's face looked pained. She eased back in her seat, studying Riley… to see if she was lying?
"And Ellie?"
"…" Oh. Riley traced her index finger along the empty bowl halfheartedly.
"She wasn't."
Her words were a curse. Marlene closed her eyes, defeat sinking into her features.
Riley bit her lip.
"How did you find me—
"I can't…" Marlene choked out, and Riley's heart plummeted. If only things were backwards, if Ellie was here instead of her. Ellie's laughter rang in her memory, and she swallowed to keep the tears from breaking free.
She felt terrible and foolish. This was all her fault.
Marlene leaned forward. She was shaken, but she took the bowl out of Riley's hand, then placed her hand over Riley's knee.
"I can't believe I didn't lose you too."
Riley looked to her, waiting for the sure to follow anger, the disappointment, but there was none. It was almost unable to register. Her mouth opened, and before she knew it tears were rolling down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry." She said. It was Ellie all over again, apology after apology tumbling from her mouth while she did what she had to do.
She was given more food, and Marlene was asking her questions. About leaving, about going to Ellie—how could you, what were you thinking—that should have come from Marlene at least once. She wasn't asked to stop crying. It made Riley question if any of this was real. Marlene should be yelling, should be damning her for what she did. She should—
Marlene was hugging her now, and the questions fell away. This couldn't be happening. This wouldn't be happening. Riley desperately wanted—wished—for this to be a horrible dream. First her parents, and now Ellie. She didn't want to do it again.
"Please," Riley said, "Please, I'm sorry."
She couldn't stop breathing, the air shaking its way through her lungs, begging, useless, and Marlene held her tight.
"It's okay, I know, I know." Marlene soothed, her voice at Riley's ear, hands at her back. "But you'll get through this. I'll make sure you get through this."
Riley could only believe her. The need to hold onto something, after everything, convinced her that Marlene meant what she said. So she grabbed Marlene by her selves, the friction of the fabric roughly rubbing against the bite, and clutched with all that she was.
From beyond Riley's sight, Marlene opened her eyes and looked ahead in indifference.
