Vic screamed.
Tony fired. The muzzle flash lit the room white-hot for an instant. The round punched through Rawlings’ skull, dropping him instantly.
But the damage was done. And Vic, who had only tried to help, had paid the price.
Vic fell backward, clutching his arm. Blood poured between his fingers.
“No,” Veronica whispered. “Oh my God. No…”
Tony was already moving, dragging Vic to the couch as he screamed. “Ok. Ok. Come with me buddy.” Tony looked at Veronica who sat on the floor, eyes watering. “Veronica!”
Veronica snapped out of it and grabbed the first aid kit, settling to the ground next to Vic. Tony and Veronica cleaned and began applying direct pressure to the wound.
But they both knew it was too late.
They’d just watched it happen to Rawlings. They knew exactly how this thing moved.
Vic looked at Tony, eyes wide with the realization of what was coming.
His breathing grew increasingly shallow as he whispered “I’m sorry. I should have…I should have stayed back.”
“Don’t,” Tony said, taking Vic’s hand into both of his. “This isn’t on you. This is on me. I’m sorry, brother.”
Tony felt the weight of his decision to open the door for Rawlings. The decision to try to save someone.
Tony shook his head to refocus. He looked at JoeJoe, standing horrified by what had just happened. “JoeJoe. Take my gun. You and Memo go cover that back door.”
They nodded and disappeared into the rear office area.
The bite was deep. Ragged. Already swelling.
And the skin around it was changing.
Black veins began spidering outward from the wound, pulsing faintly, like something alive beneath the surface. The discoloration crept visibly, inch by inch, following the paths of blood vessels.
Michael stared. “That’s… that’s spreading.”
“Same thing that happened to Rawlings,” Hutch said quietly.
Vic saw it too.
“Oh God,” Vic whispered, eyes fixed on his arm as the veins crept upward. “Tony… please.”
Tony swallowed hard and went back to work with Veronica. He tightened the pressure bandage, gave Vic some antibiotics and painkillers, even put a makeshift tourniquet on Vic’s arm – but nothing slowed the spread.
In an hour, the black veins had spread past Vic’s elbow. He shivered violently. Sweat soaked through his shirt despite the cold air.
“I’m burning up,” Vic muttered. “Feels like fire in my bones.”
“I’m here with ya, bud.” Tony said, placing a hand on Vic’s shoulder.
The group was devastated. Everyone took a moment to come over and tell Vic how much he meant to them. Michael, who wasn’t particularly close to Vic, came over and he and Chelsey gave Vic a hug. JoeJoe and Memo took a moment to come tell Vic they loved him and each spent a few minutes with him. Jackie cried and Veronica told Vic how brave he was.
When everyone cleared, Veronica checked his pulse. It was very weak but very rapid. She flashed a concerned look at Tony who returned to his place next to Vic.
“I’m scared,” Vic whispered hoarsely. He looked at Tony, tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to die.”
Tony knelt beside him, hand in hand. “You won’t buddy. I’m right here with you.”
It was a lie. And they both knew it. Tony held his hand tightly with tears in his eyes.
Outside, something screamed off in the distance. A female, human scream from across the campground.
Then silence. Tony glanced around the room. Michael, Chelsey and Jackie had fallen asleep bunched together in the corner of the room. JoeJoe and Memo took turns looking in on Vic’s situation from the back office. Hutch maintained watch at the front.
By three hours post-bite, the black veins had spread from Vic’s wound well past the tourniquet and now reached his shoulder.
His breathing grew increasingly labored and his eyes fluttered, unfocused.
Hutch checked his watch. “Timeline’s fast.” He said quietly.
“How fast?” JoeJoe asked, voice tight.
Hutch didn’t look away from Vic. “Hours.”
Soon, Vic was unconscious. His breaths became quieter and spaced further apart. Hutch retrieved the pistol from JoeJoe and stood nearby. Tony wasn’t ready to shoot his friend. He appreciated Hutch volunteering for the duty without having to be asked.
Just before dawn, Vic convulsed.
His back arched violently. His jaw clenched hard enough to crack a tooth. A wet, animal sound tore out of his throat.
His eyes snapped open. Clouded. Discolored. Empty.
Hutch fired the Glock. Clean into Vic’s skull.
The sound echoed through the ranger station like another small explosion.
When it was over, Hutch handed the pistol back to JoeJoe and returned to the front door. No one else moved. JoeJoe and Memo shook their heads with tears in their eyes. Michael and the girls sobbed quietly and hugged each other. Tony held Vic’s hand on the floor for a few moments longer, quietly sobbing.
Four hours. From bite to… monster.
Tony stood slowly, exhaustion settling into his bones. He wiped the tears from his face and turned to address the group.
“Rule one,” he said quietly. “A bite is a death sentence. Four hours…” He looked at Hutch, who nodded. “Four hours from bite… to this.” He indicated the dead infected on the ground. That wasn’t Vic and Rawlings on the ground anymore. They were monsters.
No one argued. They had learned the truth the hard way.
Four hours, from bite – to monster.
The sky outside had shifted from black to grey. First light was coming, but the sun hadn’t crested the horizon yet. The world existed in that minimal space between night and day where nothing felt fully real.
Memo stood at the threshold between the lobby and office, arms folded, staring at Vic’s body. He hadn’t moved since Vic died. Hadn’t spoken. Just watched the body lying on the couch with the expression of a man cataloging his own mortality.
Tony understood what Memo was thinking because he was thinking it too: That could have been any of us.
Tony stepped beside him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
“Lucia…” Memo said finally. His eyes glistening.
“I know,” Tony said.
Memo’s jaw clenched. “We have to get there. Now. Before things get worse. Before-”
“I know.” Tony said, nodding. He placed a reassuring hand on Memo’s shoulder.
Memo turned to look at him, eyes raw. “Before something happens to her.”
Tony met his gaze. “Something’s already happening to her. It’s happening everywhere. Right now, in this moment, your daughter is at her grandparents’ house. She’s scared, probably. But she’s hopefully alive. And she’s not alone.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” Tony said. “But it’s the truth. And we work with truth, not fear.”
Memo looked away.
Tony continued, voice steady. “Listen to me. We can’t move today because we don’t have enough information. We don’t know what’s between here and the valley and we don’t know how fast this is spreading or what we’re going to face.”
“So what? We just wait? And hope?” Memo asked, incredulously.
“No,” Tony said. “We plan. We figure out the safest route. We gather what we need and we move deliberately instead of desperately.”
Memo’s fists clenched. “You’re asking me to not go get my daughter, bro.”
“No,” Tony said. “I’m asking you to give us a few days to try to get organized. Let the worst of this – whatever it is – die down. Then, together, we’ll plan and go get her.”
Tony paused, letting that land.
“I will get you to your daughter,” Tony said, tears in his eyes. “But I’m going to do it in a way that gets you there alive. And that means we can’t move until we have more information and a solid plan.”
Memo was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “What if we don’t make it?”
“Memo,” Tony said, unwavering. “We ARE going to make it. You’ve got me and Hutch, and we know what we’re doing. And you’ve got a reason that matters more than your own life, which means you’re equally focused.”
Memo nodded slowly. They’d been friends for decades and Memo had always trusted Tony.
“How long till we actually move?” Memo asked.
“Days,” Tony said honestly. “Maybe a week. But we do this right, and your daughter gets her father back.”
Memo swallowed hard. He looked at Vic’s body one more time, then back at Tony, tears streaming down his face.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
The sky continued to lighten. Behind them, the others were beginning to stir. Exhausted and traumatized, but alive.
Tony knew what the day would bring: difficult decisions, hard truths, and the constant weight of keeping people safe when safety could no longer be guaranteed.
But it would bring something else too: purpose.
And purpose, Tony learned during his many years as a Non-Commissioned Officer in the U.S. military, was the only thing that kept people moving forward when everything else was falling apart.