I remember the pain before the silence.
I died in a lab, surrounded by people in white coats and surgical gowns.
Wires ran into my arms. Or were they tubes?
"We're losing him. The contagion isn't latching."
Voices filtered through the haze, panicked and sharp. My body was numb, paralyzed, but I could feel something attacking my insides, writhing through my veins like liquid fire.
I wanted to scream. Desperately. But I couldn't.
"His vitals are crashing, pull the sample! Cut the feed!"
A wave of cold flooded over me. My heart stopped. Then… nothing.
Sometime later, I woke up in the dark.
Dirt in my mouth. Rocks in my lungs. I couldn't breathe.
I was buried.
I clawed upward. My fingers scraped through soil and stone.
Nails snapped. Blood spilled. Still, I climbed.
I refused to die… again.
Then my hand broke through.
Cold night air slammed into my lungs as I pulled myself from the earth like something reborn.
I lay there, gasping, my eyes stinging.
And the silence…
It was gone.
Because I wasn't alone anymore.
***
"Oh my God! Are you okay, young man?"
The voice hit like a splash of cold water.
Lee rubbed his eyes, clearing them of soil and sludge. Rain hammered down, soaking his clothes, drenching his matted hair. Everything felt numb, like his body wasn't really his.
Where am I?
He tried sitting up, but his limbs betrayed him.
A woman crouched beside him, lowering her umbrella.
"Oh, you poor thing! You poor, poor thing! What happened to you?!"
Lee's mind raced as he took in his surroundings. Streetlights flickered overhead. Tall buildings loomed above. Cars rushed past in a blur. People moved around like ghosts - distant, blurry figures in a world that felt half real, half nightmare.
I'm in a city… How?
The woman hooked her arm around his and helped him up, but he stumbled and nearly fell. She caught him quickly.
"Don't worry, I've got you! What's your name, young man?"
Lee's throat tightened. He tried answering, but his voice came out rough and cracked.
"Lee…"
He barely recognized it himself.
The woman gave him a warm smile.
"Lee… a good name. I'm Natasha. Come on, let's get you help."
They staggered away from the park, and Lee's mind churned with a storm of questions.
What happened to me? Why do I feel so… different?
Natasha waved her umbrella high to hail a cab. Two sped past as if she were invisible. Finally, a sleek black Hackney carriage glided to a stop at the curb.
A London cab? I'm in London?
Natasha reached for the passenger door, but it was locked. The driver rolled down the window, his eyes narrowing as he scanned them both like potential trouble. His gaze lingered on Lee - pale, filthy, and soaked - before flicking back to the woman.
"Sorry, lady, but he's not getting in my taxi. Look at him, he's a mess."
Natasha wanted to swear but held her tongue.
"This young man needs a hospital. Right now."
The driver snorted.
"First, he needs a shower…"
An uncomfortable silence stretched as Natasha stared daggers at him.
"For Christ's sake, fine. Put your coat on the seat. He can sit on that. I don't want him getting dirt on anything; I only just had this cab cleaned."
Natasha nodded, cheeks burning.
After a long moment, the driver unlocked the doors with a reluctant click. Natasha spread the worn coat across the backseat.
Lee hesitated. His limbs were leaden, his soaked clothes clinging like a second skin. With the woman's help, he eased himself down onto the coat.
Natasha shut his door with a firm slam, then climbed in beside him.
"How old are you, Lee?"
London's lights blurred like restless spirits as the taxi drifted through the rain.
"Nineteen."
He whispered, looking at the backs of his muddied hands. Many of his fingernails were missing, jagged stumps stained dark with dirt and dried blood, but there was no pain. None at all.
Natasha gave a small, sad smile.
"Nineteen? You're still so young."
The woman delved into her purse, searching for fare money and her phone. Her fingers brushed against the cereal bar she'd packed earlier.
She pulled the bar out and held it toward him.
"Are you hungry, Lee? You can have this if you want."
Lee looked at her. His stomach started growling, and he nodded.
She peeled back the wrapper and presented it again.
"Go ahead."
Lee glanced over it, but his eyes quickly shifted - drawn, almost compulsively, to her arm instead. Deep within, an ember stirred, throbbing like an invisible hand closing around his heart.
The soft, tanned skin. The delicate fingers. The faint pulse beneath her wrist.
Strangely, that seemed more real. More alive. More appealing.
He swallowed hard, fighting the strange craving. But the hunger gnawed deep beneath his ribs, and the cereal bar wasn't going to be enough to satisfy it.
What's going on with me?
His breath quickened. He didn't want to look at her hand, but he couldn't stop. The snack she was holding might as well have been plastic.
Lee's hand shot forward before he could think. He gripped her wrist tightly. Too tightly.
"Lee?"
Her voice was soft, confused. Concerned.
"Hey! No eating in my taxi!"
The driver's yell cut through the moment, angry eyes flashing in the rearview mirror.
But Lee didn't hear him.
His vision tunneled. Natasha's pulse throbbed, echoing in his ears like a war drum. His mouth opened.
And he bit her.
Her scream ripped through the cab. Blood hit Lee's tongue like lightning. It flooded his senses, and everything went white.
Natasha yanked her hand back, horror etched across her face. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
The driver slammed on the brakes.
"What the bloody hell's going on back there?!"
Lee stared down at his trembling hands, mouth stained red.
Delicious.