"Ryan..." The voice called, drawn out and distorted in ways that made it sound both heartbreakingly familiar and utterly alien. The electronic distortion couldn't completely mask the underlying vocal patterns I recognised immediately.
Jason.
"Is that Jason's voice? It was his voice!" Jasmine exclaimed, her entire body tensing as she started to rise from our concealed position behind the concrete barrier. But I immediately grasped her arm and pulled her back down, my enhanced senses screaming warnings about the wrongness of what we were hearing.
"Jasmine, that thing isn't Jason," I replied, my voice filling a complexity of emotions I couldn't fully articulate. The devastating realization was settling over me dangerously—whatever had happened to Jason was far worse than simple death or infection.
"What do you mean?" Jasmine looked at me with confusion and desperate hope warring in her expression. "That was definitely his voice calling for us."
