He shook his head, eyes wide with fear when he looked into her eyes. Eyes that spelled out his death. “Lemme go, lemme go. Please!”
Dylan laughed, her gaze flickering to his throat. It looked soft and inviting. Vulnerable. With a growl, she lunged forward and sank her teeth deep into his jugular. Blood spurted into her mouth and washed across her tongue. Hot, fresh, and oh so delicious.
Her eyes drifted shut as ecstasy overcame her, and she sucked down deep mouthfuls of the warm fluid. Her victim thrashed beneath her, his horrified screams turning into gurgles as his life left him in a crimson stream.
Dylan’s eyes snapped open when he stilled, and his struggles grew weaker and weaker. She tossed him aside like a rag doll, one hand wiping away the blood that ran down her chin. It covered the front of her jersey in a red waterfall, and she sniffed at it with disgust. “Ugh. So messy.” She sighed. “And I just had a shower.”
A frightened voice drew her attention, and her gaze traveled to Ray. He stared at her with wide eyes, and his voice shook when he asked, “What the hell are you?”
“What am I?” Dylan asked. “I’m your worst nightmare.”
He attempted to pull his gun from its holster, but Dylan reacted in a flash. She leaned over and snatched it away.
Ray shook his head and pushed open his door. “You’re a monster.”
He struggled in his seat, attempting to climb out, but it was futile. He was pinned in place by the engine block.
“Oh, dear. It seems like you’re stuck,” Dylan said. “I’d help, but you know, I’m just a monster. Besides, I don’t think there’s much anybody could do for you now.”
Ray gaped down at his broken legs, aware of his awful injuries for the first time. “Oh, God. Help me, please. I don’t want to die.”
“You should’ve thought of that before,” Dylan said as she searched the cab for more weapons. Both his friends had been armed with handguns plus they’d brought along a rifle. “Nice stash. Thanks.”
Afterward, she fished inside her pockets for her cigarettes and lighter. She hadn’t had one in a long time.
Dylan lit one with relish and inhaled the acrid smoke deep into her lungs. Ray kept begging for help, but she ignored him as she searched the back of the truck until she found what she was looking for. A jerry can.
Opening the nozzle, she poured gas over the truck with methodical care. Ray watched with growing fear and realization. “No! No, please.”
“Oh, yes.”
“You can’t do that. Please! I’ll do anything, I swear it,” he screamed. “Just name it, and I’ll do it.”
“The only thing I want from you is to die,” was her cold reply.
Dylan stepped back and flicked the remains of her cigarette onto the ground next to a puddle of gas. With a swoosh, the fumes caught alight, and flames raced along the path she’d laid.
Ray continued pleading, but his blubbering cries soon turned into agonized screams when the fire enveloped the cab. He twisted and turned as his flesh blackened in the searing heat, his clothes, and hair a blazing inferno.
Dylan watched for a couple of seconds before turning away. The fire was as hot on the outside as she felt on the inside. A boiling pit of lava sat inside her stomach, ready to erupt at any moment. It made her feel strong, invincible, and she liked it.
With determined strides, she walked back to her car, taking her new weapons with her. She tucked Ray’s fully loaded Beretta into her holster and stored the rest of the handguns in the glove compartment. The rifle she placed on the backseat. Then it was time to go.
As Dylan moved to start the engine, she caught sight of her reflection in the rearview mirror and froze. Her face was covered with drying blood, her teeth stained red, and her clothes soaked. The eyes of a stranger stared back at her, cold and callous.
In an instant, Dylan’s mind cleared, and the haze of blazing fury that had fueled her so far faded away. She pressed one hand against her lips and choked back a horrified sob. “Oh, my God. What have I done?”
The sensation of blood flowing down her throat returned with awful clarity, and her stomach rebelled. She pushed the car door open and fell onto her hands and knees, not caring when sharp stones cut into her palms. Her body heaved, and copious amounts of blood splashed onto the road, the congealing fluid as black as tar.
With a cry, Dylan got to her feet and ran to the trunk. Along the way, she ripped off her soaked jersey and tossed it aside. Grabbing a bottle of water from her precious supplies, she washed the blood from her hands and face. Every time she caught sight of Ray’s truck blazing in the distance, she retched. That carried on until she had nothing left in her stomach but bile and acid. Even then, the echo of his screams rang in her ears, over and over until she thought she’d go crazy.
Finally, she collapsed into a little ball. “I can’t believe I did that. How could I do that? I’m a monster. A cannibal.”
She stared at her hands, turning them this way and that. Her gaze traveled to the bandaged bite wound on her arm, and she traced the black veins to her chest. Realization dawned. “It’s the infection. It’s making me act all crazy. That’s what it is.”
Dylan checked the watch on her wrist. Forty-two hours remained. “I’m on the second day. From here on, it’ll just get worse and worse. The fever, the veins, the psychotic episodes. If I want the cure, I’d better get moving. I have to get there before I’m too far gone to act human anymore.”
She got to her feet, feeling weak and shaky. Her forehead burned, and her cheeks were flushed. The virus was progressing, working its way through her insides
