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Chapter 8 - Chapter 8 - Suspicion

A week later

The camp became a strange kind of home. The survivors welcomed the four teens warmly at first, offering hot food, warm fires, and places to rest.

For Brian, the camp was both a relief and a prison. He hated the way people stared at him; an injured boy clutching a leather notebook like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. He spent long hours sitting near the fire or propped against a log, flipping through the pages of the notebook again and again, memorizing his mother's words. Sometimes he thought about tearing the notebook apart, scattering the pages into the flames. This was the only evidence they had to discover the truth about Project Revive.

Ella spent much of her time among the women of the camp, helping them prepare meals and play with the children. In return, they gave her softer blankets and helped her wash and comb her hair. They didn't know about the child growing inside her, and she didn't tell them. At night, when Jason stood watch at her side, she pressed a hand to her stomach and whispered to herself. She wondered if bringing a child into this world was selfish or if this child would one day save the world.

Jason remained quiet, cautiously watching the camp's routines: men splitting logs for firewood, women boiling stew over iron pots, children laughing as they chased each other between tents. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard laughter like that. His hand never strayed far from his pistol, though. Safe or not, he trusted no one here, not even Alex's father.

Alex, however, carried the heaviest silence of all. Reuniting with his father should have been the blessing he'd prayed for since the outbreak began, but it was poisoned by the truth he couldn't share. He hadn't told him about being strapped to a table in the Unit 8 medical sector, about the serum burning through his veins, about the black tendrils crawling up his neck every other day. He couldn't. Not when he saw the hope in his father's eyes every time they sat together by the fire.

Instead, Alex smiled when he had to, laughed when people teased him, and slipped away when the sickness came.

The first time it happened in camp, he was splitting wood with one of the older men. His vision blurred, his chest tightened, and his hands shook so violently that the axe nearly slipped. He muttered an excuse about feeling dizzy, stumbling toward the tent he shared with Brian. He collapsed on the old mattress, gripping his arms as black veins spread like spiderwebs just beneath his skin. Cold sweat was swallowing him. The burning lasted an hour before fading, leaving him pale and exhausted.

When he emerged again, the others noticed.

"Kid, you alright?" someone asked."Just tired," Alex lied with a strained smile.

But it happened again the next day. And the day after that.

Brian was the first to cover for him, though his excuses were sharp and unconvincing. "He's sick from the cold," he snapped once when questioned. "Mind your own business."

Ella was gentler. She told Alex's father that his son needed rest, that the trauma of losing Sarah and Max had left him weak. Jason said little, but whenever Alex disappeared, Jason planted himself near the entrance of their tent, daring anyone to push further.

Still, whispers began to spread.

"Why does that boy keep vanishing?"Always pale. Always sweating."You don't think he's—infected...right?"

The word infected spread faster than fire in dry grass.

Alex's father dismissed the rumors at first, bristling whenever someone hinted at it. "He's my son," he said firmly. "He's fine." But doubt lingered in his eyes.

At night, Alex lay awake, staring at stars above him, guilt clawing at his chest. He wanted to confess everything to his father, to tell him about Zombifera-X, about being strapped to the table, about the parasite that still pulsed inside him. But every time he opened his mouth, the words died. His father had already lost too much. He couldn't take away this last fragile hope.

Brian's anger boiled hotter with each passing day. He didn't hide it. When Alex returned from one of his "episodes," Brian glared at him.

"You should've told him," Brian muttered once when they were alone.

Alex turned away, not answering.

Ella tried to soothe the tension. She reminded Brian that Alex hadn't chosen this, that blaming him wouldn't fix what had already happened. Brian only tightened his grip on the notebook.

5:45 pm

Ella fell asleep with her head on Jason's shoulder near the fire. He stroked her hair gently, his gaze drifting to the families huddled together around their campfires. Children giggled as one of the men told a story about life before the outbreak. For a fleeting second, Jason wondered if this was what the future could look like—if he could build something here with Ella, with their child. He wondered if the world could go back to what it used to be. But then he saw Alex clutching his stomach in the shadows of his tent, fighting another wave of burning veins, and the illusion shattered.

That night, Alex's father confronted him while the others were in the tent.

"You've been hiding something from me," he said, his voice low but sharp. "I hear what the others say. I've noticed the way you keep disappearing. Tell me the truth, Alex."

The others remained silent.

Alex's mouth opened, but no words came. His throat burned with everything he wanted to confess.

"I'm fine," Alex whispered. "Just… tired. That's all."

His father stared at him for a long, unbearable moment before turning away.

Brian swore under his breath, throwing the notebook down in frustration. Jason's jaw tightened, his hand hovering near his pistol. Ella reached for Alex's hand, squeezing it tight.

A week had passed, and the comfort of safety was beginning to crumble.

Alex's secret was bleeding through the cracks, and sooner or later, the camp will find out the truth.

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