Chapter 8: The Bite

Val held up her hand in a gentle wave, still breathless from her recent leap of faith.

Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow pulls, lungs burning from the sprint. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered her hand back down and moved the other off the grip of her pistol.

The boy with the candle stood motionless down the hallway, the dim orange glow flickering across his face. He couldn’t have been older than eight—shaggy brown hair, pale skin, wide eyes. Behind him stood a woman—mid-thirties maybe—and a man just a pace behind her. All three were silent. Watching.

After a quick glance back at the broken door she’d just leapt through—as if to confirm those things couldn’t fly—Val opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, at a loss for words.

“Hey… I'm Val. Sorry to drop in like this.” she finally muttered awkwardly.

The boy didn’t move. But the woman stepped forward, placing a hand gently on the child’s shoulder.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” she said. Her voice was soft, but wary. “We didn't think there was anyone else.”

Val nodded, her spine shivering as she remembered the masked man in black outside her apartment.

Bracing herself against the hallway wall, Val pushed herself up. Her limbs trembled with the effort—every joint stiff, every muscle sore from the crash and sprint.

As she struggled to rise, the woman and boy rushed forward to help her.

“Come on,” the woman said gently, sliding an arm around Val’s waist. “Lean on me.”

Val draped her arm across the woman’s shoulders, grateful for the support. Together, they made their way across the hallway. The boy followed close behind, candlelight flickering against the walls.

The woman guided Val into a small room—modest, but organized. A battered chair and table sat in the middle, and a television stood anchored to the back wall.

“Sit,” the woman said. “You’re safe here. For now.”

“I’m Ellie,” the woman said, easing Val gently into the chair. “And this is Sam.”

The boy stood nearby, his candle still casting long shadows along the wall.

“My husband…” She glanced back toward the doorway as the man stepped into view, his expression gaunt. “That’s Thomas.”

“What’s happening out there? Is there anyone else alive? Are we the only ones left?” Ellie asked, the questions tumbling out of her in a breathless rush.

Val sat in silence, methodically picking a small shard of glass from her forearm. A thin line of blood followed, but she didn’t flinch.

“No,” she said at last. “There are others. I’ve seen a few. But the streets are packed with those things… unfortunately.”

Ellie nodded slowly, as if unsure whether to feel relief that they weren’t alone or dread that the nightmare remained at their doorstep.

“Can you tell me what day it is?” Val asked bluntly, glancing up from her arm.

“My husband’s phone is the only one that still has power,” Ellie replied. “It says it’s March 3rd. No cell service though, we’ve tried to get a signal everywhere we could.”

The 3rd, Val thought. Had I really been out for two days…?

She looked up, eyes narrowing with focus. “What happened to you when the fog came?” she asked, her tone quiet but intent.

"Sam, why don’t you give Mommy and the nice lady a few minutes to talk? Go to the other room and play with your toys, okay?"

The boy looked down, clearly disappointed, then turned and walked toward the doorway.

“Nice meeting you, nice lady,” he said softly, slipping past his father—who stood motionless, eyes locked on the floor, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his brow despite the cold.

“We were in our flat when the first reports started coming in,” Ellie said quietly. “The fog was forming north of Luton, and we knew we wouldn’t have time to get out of London—not with the roads already piling up. So we walked here, to my husband’s machinery shop. All the doors and windows have reinforced metal shutters so we figured we’d be safer here than back home.”

She paused, rubbing her hands together as if trying to ground herself in the memory.

“By the time the fog reached the city, the emergency broadcasts were already warning people to seal up windows and make makeshift gas masks. All useless, it seems, from the early footage we saw.”

She glanced past Val toward the dusty old television mounted on the wall behind her.

“When we got here, Thomas’s coworker, Abe, was already inside—watching the news unfold. We tried our best to shield Sam from it… but it was too much. The sirens, the screaming… when it all started, we just huddled in this room—holding each other—until the fog swallowed everything.”

"What happened when the fog reached the building?" Val asked, her voice tense.

Ellie’s eyes drifted toward the floor.

"The last thing we remember… was the smell. Just awful. Not smoke or rot—something else. Something unnatural. I’ve never smelled anything quite like it."

She paused, rubbing her arms as if the memory still clung to her skin.

"And then… nothing. Just black."

Val waited in silence.

"We came to earlier today," Ellie continued. "First me. Then Thomas a few hours later. And Sam—thank God—he finally woke up about an hour ago."

She looked up, her eyes glassy with the weight of it.

"I thought he wasn’t going to…" her voice cracking. "But he did."

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Val nodded in understanding.

"And Abe?" she asked, her voice soft but direct, eyes scanning the dim room for any sign of the man.

Ellie followed her gaze, then looked down, her hands folding tightly in her lap.

"He stayed downstairs praying in the shop when the fog rolled in," she said. "When Thomas came to, he went to check on him. Abe was already up—standing, just… staring at the front gate."

Her voice began to tremble.

"Thomas didn’t know yet. None of us did. There was no footage from inside the fog. We all just assumed… the fog took everyone. Not that it brought them back."

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the faint, distant creak of the old building settling.

Ellie’s voice cracked as she spoke, her eyes fixed on the floor like the memory was unfolding right there in front of her.

“I… I heard the screaming while trying to wake up Sam,” she said quietly. “When I got downstairs… Abe was on top of Thomas—biting into his arm. Hard.”

She swallowed, her hands now trembling in her lap.

“I screamed. I didn’t know what else to do. I grabbed one of the hammers from the workbench—and swung it once. Caught Abe across the side of the head… It dazed him I think. It gave Thomas a second… Just enough time to shove him off.”

She looked toward the hallway, where her husband stood solemnly in silence.

“That’s when Thomas grabbed the hammer and… finished it.”

A long pause stretched between them.

“He’s still down there,” she said, voice thin. “Wrapped in a tarp.”

“Can I see your wound?” Val asked, turning her attention directly to Thomas. Her tone was calm but firm. “I only ask because I’m a Combat Medical Technician with the British Army.”

She offered the faintest of dry smiles.

“I wasn’t always this beautiful, either.” Val tapped the tender skin just beneath the freshly stitched bite on her cheek. “You want proof of my work? Look no further.”

“What happened to you?” Ellie asked, her voice laced with quiet unease.

“One of them bit my face, unfortunately,” Val said bluntly.

Ellie’s eyes widened. “That’s from a bite? How long ago?”

“Several hours, by now,” Val replied, though the truth was she wasn’t entirely sure. Time had become slippery in the fog.

“Thomas, show her—please,” Ellie pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas didn’t respond right away. His jaw clenched as he stared at the floor, the silence stretching between them like a held breath.

Finally, with a slow nod, he stepped forward and began unbuttoning his flannel shirt.

As the fabric peeled away from his arm, Val restrained her reaction as best she could.

The flesh was missing in jagged patches, congealed into blackened boils of bile and pus. Veins running from the wound up his bicep and toward the base of his neck had turned dark as oil, spreading like necrotic spiderwebs beneath the skin.

Whatever infection had taken hold in this man was well beyond what her meager medical training could manage. Val doubted even the best hospital in the country could reverse whatever monstrous concoction was brewing inside him.

“I’m so sorry,” Val said, holding back the tears forming in her eyes.

Thomas gave a stiff nod, saying nothing as he buttoned his shirt back up with trembling hands.

Ellie sat silently nearby, her eyes beginning to tear, one hand still covering her mouth.

“I don’t have much time,” Thomas said, his voice trembling but resolved. “I can feel it… taking over. I can’t explain it, I just know. I can’t risk becoming like Abe. I won’t hurt you. Or Sam.” he said looking at Ellie.

Ellie began to sob.

“Will you help me?” Thomas asked, his eyes now fixed on Val.

She had known it was coming—expected it even—but the words still hit her like a dagger through the heart.

Sadness swept over her like a wave, crashing into the parts of her still too raw to defend. Her throat tightened. Her grip on the armrest of the chair went white-knuckled.

Was she really being asked to do this?

To grant a dying man his final wish—or risk him turning into a monster and tearing his family apart as his last act on earth?

There was little choice.

But still… she struggled.

Val couldn’t speak, but managed a single nod as her tears began to pour down her ruined face.

“Ellie—go get Sam… Hurry,” Thomas grunted.

Still sobbing, Ellie rose to her feet and ran to the other room. A few moments later, she returned, Sam close behind. The look on both their faces was enough to break Val all over again.

Thomas hugged his wife tightly with his good arm, then dropped to one knee and embraced his son.

“Sam… Dad has to go somewhere,” he said, his voice strained with both emotion and pain. “I need you to look after your mum, alright?”

Sam looked up at him, confused and already crying. “Dad?”

Thomas grunted, wincing as the infection flared within him. “Just… remember… I love you both. So much.”

“Stay with your mum… son,” he added, giving Sam a final squeeze. “Always.”

Then, rising slowly, he turned to Val.

“Val… now. Let’s go. Now!”

Without a word, she followed the stumbling man as he rushed down the stairs to the lower-level shop.

Reaching the edge of the workshop, Thomas stumbled toward a blue tarp laid out across the floor—what Val could only assume was the remains of their friend, Abe.

He collapsed to his knees, facing the wall.

“I’m sorry I had to ask this of you, Val,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry… but I can’t hold… on… much… longer.”

Val fought back the despair rising in her chest. Her hands trembled as she drew her weapon, heart pounding like a drum in her ears.

Thomas gritted his teeth as a low, guttural scream pushed through his clenched jaw.

“Thomas,” Val said calmly, stepping closer. “Remember your family.”

For a brief second, clarity returned to his eyes.

He nodded once—just once.

And Val pulled the trigger.

Name Val Occupation Combat Medical Technician (CMT) Health 25% Hunger 45% Thirst 95% Gear Light Clothing, Flashlight, Handcuffs, Lighter Backpack 2 Water Bottles, 3 Granola Bars Weapons Glock 17, Taser Ammo 9mm – 50 rounds Skills Battlefield Medicine, Standard Weapons Trained Kills 5

Name Ellie Occupation Unknown Health 100% Gear Light Clothing

Name Sam Occupation None Health 100% Gear Light Clothing

Name Thomas (Deceased) Occupation Machinist Health 0% Gear Light Clothing