5 Chapter 5: Death is an Inconvenient Thing

[A couple of minutes before]

Barry descended the staircase, his assault rifle strapped to him, and reentered the dim underground cell. As he descended, he found Jill still on the bed inside the cell, convulsing more violently than before. The ground trembled with the monster's approach, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. Turning left, he rifled through the desk's drawers in search of the cell's key, his patience waning. Time was running out; the building could crumble any second, or the monster could catch them while he searched. At last, he secured the key and dashed to Jill's cell.

The door swiftly slid open, but as Barry neared her, Jill's spasms intensified. "Jill?!" Barry cried, closing in. She suddenly awoke, gripping his shoulder, her eyes now a pitch-black void.

"Oh no, Jill!" Barry exclaimed, pushing her away, and forcing her onto the bed she had lain on earlier. He quickly locked the door behind him. 'Jill' promptly rose, rushing the cell door in an aggressive frenzy. Her skin bore ominous black veins, her eyes tainted, and her aggression palpable. Yet, despite these signs, she still appeared human; the infection hadn't fully taken hold.

Barry stepped back from the door, his emotions in turmoil. He aimed his gun at the woman within the cell, took a deep breath, ready to pull the trigger, but then, he hesitated. He couldn't do it. "Damn it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry, Jill. We'll return for you, with a vaccine, if we can."

He knew the chances were slim, but even a slim chance was still a chance. He finally turned and fled the cell, retracing his steps up the stairs to regroup with the others.

—

When Chris pulled up at the garage, the rendezvous point for the group, he took in the scene before him. The Sheriff embraced his family, the deputy sheriff peered out the window with his double-barrel shotgun, Claire rested against the wall on the floor, and Barry stood with his gaze fixed on the ground, a look of desolation etched across his face. But one face was conspicuously absent.

"Where's Jill?" Chris inquired, his eyes locked on Barry.

Barry hesitated, then turned to meet Chris's gaze. "Sorry, Chris. She attacked me. She's on the brink, but not there yet."

"And you just left her?" Chris retorted, his anger flaring as he lunged at Barry, grabbing his shirt and fixing a steely gaze on him.

"What else could I do?" Barry shot back, pushing Chris away. "I can't risk bringing her along if she might infect me. Calm down, Chris. If we can reach the facility in time, there might still be a chance to cure her."

Chris retreated, leaning against the wall and slumping to the ground, his temples throbbing from exhaustion.

"Where's Agent Hunter?" Claire suddenly interjected.

Chris remained silent, sweat trickling down his face.

Claire observed her brother's demeanor and movements, piecing together the grim truth. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God... Is he really—?"

"Damn it, not another one," Barry cursed. "Is the monster dead?"

"The building collapsed, so probably," Chris sighed.

"Collapsed? That means—"

"Jill might be buried beneath the rubble by now," Chris nodded wearily. "But she's underground, so maybe it's more structurally sound."

"God..." Barry muttered. "What do we do now?"

---

Ethan's lifeless body lay among the debris of the radio station, a tendril still impaled through his stomach. The RPG had turned him into a charred husk, and the monster, though barely alive, remained trapped and writhing in pain.

Superficially, there was little movement except for the agonized monster. But on a molecular level, something extraordinary was unfolding within Ethan. Dormant genetic sequences, untouched throughout his life, came into contact with the foreign invader trying to infiltrate his body – the virus responsible for turning people into the living dead, stripping control of their muscles and nerves. A complex cascade of reactions occurred as these dormant genes awoke, commencing a relentless transformation of Ethan's entire body.

But the thing is, he's already dead.

Yet, the peculiar properties of the virus did not escape these genes; instead, it began to reshape the virus, making it Ethan's own. Rapid assimilation occurred as the virus mixed with the genes, spreading throughout Ethan's corpse.

Gradually, Ethan's body underwent a miraculous recovery. But as his healing progressed, the half-dead monster shrieked in agony. It could sense its biomass being siphoned away by Ethan, transferred through the still-embedded tendril in his stomach. As the monster dwindled, Ethan's charred skin and flesh regenerated. The screams of the monster echoed through the process until, finally, it was fully absorbed, not a trace of its biomass remaining. Ethan, on the other hand, appeared healthy, as if he had just awakened from a nap.

And awakened he did, with a jolt. His eyes flickered open as the sinister taint receded. He gasped for air, feeling a painful flood of memories surge into his consciousness, memories that he was about to be drawn into.