Chapter 139: Scars fade but never go

Harry’s boots slammed unevenly against the forest floor as he ran. Every step jarred his body, every breath tore at his lungs, and still he held onto his father’s weight with everything he had left.

Or tried to.

Harold’s arm kept slipping from his grasp, his body heavier now in a way that had nothing to do with size. Dead weight. That was the term. Harry had heard it before. He just never thought it would apply to his own father.

“Keep moving!” someone barked.

“I am— I am!” Harry shot back, his voice cracking as his grip faltered again.

Branches whipped against his face. Twigs snapped under boots. Behind them, something else moved faster. Sloppier. Hungrier.

The red glow cut through the dark like scattered embers.

They were close.

Too close.

“Shit, shit, shit,” one of the men muttered, breath ragged.

“Hold him firm, damn it!” another snapped.

Harry tightened his grip, his arms screaming in protest. His back burned. His hands were slick, either with sweat or blood, he could not tell anymore.

“I got him,” Harry said, but his voice lacked any real strength.

The words felt like a lie the second they left his mouth.

His foot caught on a root.

Everything fell apart in an instant.

He went down hard, his knee slamming into the dirt. Harold’s body slipped completely from his grasp and hit the ground with a dull, heavy sound.

The others stumbled to a stop.

For a second, no one moved.

Harry scrambled, hands shaking as he tried to grab his father again.

“Come on— come on, get up—” he muttered, like Harold could hear him, like any of this still made sense.

A gunshot cracked through the trees.

One of the infected dropped behind them, its body folding awkwardly before going still.

Harry’s head snapped up.

They were right there.

Closer than he thought.

Way closer.

Another set of red eyes pushed through the dark, low to the ground, moving fast.

A hand grabbed Harry’s arm.

Hard.

His body jerked forward before he could react, his feet dragging across the dirt as he was pulled away.

“What the—”

He twisted, trying to wrench himself free.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”

“It makes no damn sense,” the man pulling him said, his voice flat, strained.

“We have to go.”

“No— NO!” Harry’s voice broke as he dug his heels into the ground, trying to stop himself.

His eyes darted back to his father’s body.

“We can’t— we can’t just leave him there!” he shouted. “Do you even know what they’ll do?!”

No one answered.

Not his mother.

Not the others.

Their faces were tight. Their movements sharper now. Focused on one thing.

Getting away.

The man’s grip on Harry didn’t loosen.

“Move!” he barked, yanking him forward again.

Harry stumbled, nearly falling as he was forced into motion.

“No! Let me go!” Harry fought back, his voice raw. “We can still— we can still take him—!”

Another gunshot rang out. Then another.

The infected were breaking through the trees now, bodies slamming into branches, tripping over each other in their rush.

They did not care.

They never did.

Harry’s resistance weakened as he was dragged faster, his body barely keeping up.

But his head turned.

He looked back.

And that was his mistake.

At first, he could not see anything clearly. Just movement. Shadows. Red eyes closing in.

Then they reached him.

Harold’s body disappeared under them.

Gone in seconds.

Harry’s stomach dropped.

Then the sounds came.

Wet.

Sharp.

Tearing.

A scream tried to claw its way out of his throat, but it came out broken.

“No…”

More sounds.

Flesh ripping.

Bone cracking.

Something laughing.

Not human. Not even close.

Harry’s vision blurred as tears flooded his eyes.

“NO!!” he screamed, his voice tearing apart. “NO—!!”

He tried to turn back again, but the man’s grip tightened, dragging him harder now.

“STOP!” Harry shouted, thrashing. “STOP YOU BASTARDS!! THAT’S MY FUCKING DAD!!”

The sounds did not stop.

They got worse.

Louder.

Closer in his head.

Each step forward felt wrong. Like he was abandoning something he could not afford to lose.

His legs started to give out.

His strength was gone.

Completely gone.

But the man did not let him fall.

He kept dragging him forward, forcing his body to move even when it refused.

“Keep moving!” someone shouted again, though it sounded distant now.

Everything sounded distant.

Harry’s cries turned into broken sobs, his chest heaving as he gasped for air that did not feel like enough.

Behind them, the noises faded.

Not because they stopped.

But because they were getting farther away.

And that made it worse.

Because it meant they had really left him.

Harry’s father.

Left behind in the dark.

Torn apart by things that used to be human.

His vision dropped to the ground as he ran, tears hitting the dirt without him noticing.

His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms.

Something inside him twisted.

Tight.

Ugly.

Burning.

And it did not go away.

It stayed there.

Growing.

—

I closed my eyes tightly as the knife punched through the wooden door, splintering it near my head before ripping back out.

It missed me.

Barely.

“Last chance, cocksucker!” her voice rang from the other side, warped and excited. “Let me in and I won’t kill you that hard!”

Another slam shook the door. The frame groaned. Dust fell from the hinges.

I forced my eyes open.

The lighter I had dropped was still burning on the floor. The small flame had started to catch, licking at the dry wood beside it.

Oh, fuck me.

“Hey— hey— hey!” she called, almost playful now. “I’ll make the death thing worth your while! Wanna see my honkers?!”

My body pressed harder against the door.

Like that would help.

Another hit.

The wood cracked louder this time. I felt it shift behind my back.

I gritted my teeth, pushing with everything I had, but it didn’t matter. Whatever she was, the infection had given her strength I couldn’t match.

The door gave.

It burst open and threw me forward onto the floor.

I hit hard, breath knocked out of me as I scrambled to turn around.

She stepped in like she owned the place.

Tall. Blonde. A cowboy hat sitting crooked on her head like some kind of joke.

My eyes dropped without thinking.

My stomach turned.

“Ah?” she said, tilting her head. Then she smiled wider. “Ahh???”

She grabbed at her exposed chest, lifting it like she was showing off something worth seeing, and started walking toward me.

I pushed myself back, hands scrambling against the floor as I reached for my bag.

My fingers barely touched it before her boot slammed into it and sent it sliding across the room.

“Ah ah ah,” she said, wagging a finger.

My heart dropped.

My mind raced.

This wasn’t normal. Even for them.

Was this one of those strains that could think? That could hold itself together just enough to play with its food?

Or was she just completely gone and enjoying it?

She lunged.

Her hand clamped around my leg and yanked hard.

I hit the floor again and she flipped me onto my back like it was nothing.

If she got on top of me, it was over.

I knew that.

I fought.

Kicked. Twisted. Threw my weight around in any way I could.

But every movement only seemed to make her worse.

Her grin stretched. Her breathing got heavier.

Like she liked it.

“Yeah…that’s it…” she muttered, voice shaking with something that wasn’t right.

My chest tightened.

Was this it?

After everything?

After surviving all of that?

I was going to die here. In a rotting cabin. Pinned down by a half-naked infected who looked like she walked out of some twisted fantasy.

Not zero my ass.

She leaned in closer—

A shot rang out.

Her body jerked.

Then went slack.

Warm liquid hit my face. Drool. Blood.

Her full weight collapsed on top of me.

For a second, I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

I just lay there, staring up at nothing, breathing hard while her warmth started to fade against me.

Then I shoved her off.

Hard.

Her body rolled to the side with a dull thud.

I pushed myself up, wiping my face with the back of my hand as I turned toward the door.

The light was bad. The fire barely helped.

All I saw was a silhouette.

Gun raised.

Still.

My chest tightened.

My heart stuttered once.

“…Lila?” I said, my voice quieter than I expected.

Something twisted in my chest. Something heavy as tears had already threatened to burn my eyes.

I got to my feet and took a step forward.

The gun snapped up.

Right at my face.

“Don’t,” the voice said, sharp and steady. “Come any fucking closer.”

I froze as the woman stepped into the muted light.

That wasn’t her.

Not even close.

The figure stepped forward just enough for the firelight to catch her face.

And then it hit me.

Not slowly.

All at once.

St. Louis.

The crucible.

The blood. The screams. The things I had to do just to keep breathing.

Her face was burned into that place.

Into me.

The worst part was, I never remembered the last thing I would’ve done to her that’d make her act so hostile.

My stomach dropped.

“…no way,” I muttered.

She didn’t lower the gun.

Didn’t blink.

Her eyes stayed locked on mine like she’d been waiting for this.

Hailey’s former enforcer.

The one who never hesitated. Never questioned. Just followed orders no matter how bad they got.

Loyal to the point of being dangerous.

Naomi.

“You…?” I said, the word leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

What the fuck was she doing here?

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