Alamort | Troy Otto

2.7

[2.7]

The sun was beginning to rise. Its light shone through the small hallway window illuminating the house little by little. The bright red liquid staining the ground started to shine in the light, not yet dried. Thena was seated on the ground, her back pressed against the wall next to the bedroom door. Both her arms were resting on her knees, blood staining the skin of her fingers, palms and wrists. Her jacket had been long forgotten, placed around Anita to help her sleep.

The woman glanced at her watch. The glass was stained red, the blood entering the small cracks that somehow emerged. The leather belt was stained with the same matter. Carefully, with a frown on her face, she brought her right hand to her wrist and opened the strap, letting the watch fall in the palm of her hand. With one last look at it, she hid the watch in the thigh pocket of her cargo pants, returning her gaze on Troy.

He was still staring at one of the bodies, the one that turned. A deep frown was stitched into his face, his eyes gazing the body below him. Arms placed on each side of his hips, he turned around to stare at the other two bodies.

"Does it match your calculations?" asked Thena as she pointed to the body, making Troy turn towards her. He let out a small nod, but something seemed wrong in the way his frown deepened when he looked back at the body. Thena's face mirrored his and she let her feet slide flat on the floor. "What's wrong?"

"it took longer than expected," he mumbled, taking his small notebook and opening it. His eyes fell on the pages, reading the few words he'd written beforehand.

"brain damage causes certain death right?" asked the woman. Troy turned to her and nodded slowly. "Then maybe he had something," she continued, pointing to the body, "brain tumour, maybe. Something we couldn't have known about. Something that caused the turning process to falter but not end."

"yeah," mumbled Troy with a small nod, but he didn't seem convinced.

"I've seen people turn in under five minutes, it took others more than three hours," said Thena as she got to her feet and approached Troy, "maybe there's no pattern."

Troy didn't seem convinced. He bent down, analysing the decomposing face of the body. The eyes were still wide open, a white pellicle covering the once coloured irises.

"There's a CDC further south," added Thena, "we could try to look for some answers there."

The man only shook his head. "We should get going," he said, stepping away from the body, "there's nothing here to figure out."

Thena didn't say anything more. She walked away from him, slowly opening the bedroom door to find Anita wide awake, looking at her. The girl's eyes fell on the woman's bloody hands, making Thena subconsciously try and hide her arms behind her body. Without a word, Thena made her way to the bed and grabbed her bag, putting it on her back, before taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

"Sleep well?" she asked softly.

Anita gave a small nod. She rose to sit, her back against the headboard, and turned to the small nightstand where the butterfly knife was. She pointed to it before looking at Thena, "Can I keep it?"

For a moment, the woman stared at the knife. She didn't want to give Anita the knife, knowing she wouldn't give her own brother a knife. But then she remembered the previous days and how both the dead and the living weren't what they used to be. Danger was everywhere, and Thena wouldn't always be next to Anita to help. So, the woman gave a curt nod to girl, letting out a small chuckle at the way Anita grabbed the knife, excitement written all over her feature.