Page 147 of Juniper Unraveling

He steps forward on a limp, and his movements remind me of a curious animal. A wounded animal.

I raise a trembling hand to my mouth, watching Rhys reach out for the monster that was once his brother. One so torn and improperly sewn together, it’s painful to think he was just like Rhys at one time.

Brenin’s black eyes flick toward me, and back to Rhys, twitching with either confused recognition, or the pain of realization. Tears fill my eyes, distorting him, as he flinches away from Rhys’s fingers, recoiling at the touch of his face.

Rhys sniffs, and with his hand still outstretched, he wipes his eyes across his bicep. “Brenin, it’s me. Rhys.”

The shine of tears reflect the light, softening the deep black of Brenin’s eyes. He hobbles forward again and reaches, his fingers just brushing Rhys’s face.

“I’m sorry, Brenin. I’m sorry I wasn’t there that day. That I didn’t protect you,” Rhys whispers.

A whimper escapes him, as Brenin inches closer, the corner of his lip lifting to the slightest smile. He reminds me of a child, lost in a mix of emotions, happiness and sadness. For a moment, my thoughts drift to Abel, and the tears in my eyes spill down my cheeks.

Brenin opens his mouth to a wail, a sound so agonizing, brimming with pain and suffering, and I weep for him.

A shot bounces off the walls, and a small black hole explodes across Brenin’s forehead. Eyes wide, his head kicks back, his hand slipping out of Rhys’s, and he falls to the floor in a slump.

“No! No!” Rhys lurches on the bed, halted by the belts across his legs and the barrel of the gun pointed at his skull.

Albert pushes to his feet, gun in one hand, the syringe in the other. His shoulder carries the gore of teeth having ripped away his flesh, glistening with dark red clots of blood and bone peeking from beneath.

“You’ve been bitten,” I say, hoping to distract him. “You’re infected.”

“Lucky me, I have the cure, right?” Gun trained on Rhys, Albert jabs the needle into his arm, dispensing all of the liquid from the syringe.

“Lockdown will commence in T-minus five minutes. Prepare for decontamination protocol. Lockdown will commence in T-minus five minutes.”

“It’s time to part ways. This place is going to seal like a tomb, trapping you inside with them.” He lifts the gun and frowns, grabbing hold of his chest. His head rolls, and he stumbles forward. “Whassa?”

Beside me, Rhys unlatches the restraints across his legs.

Falling to the floor, Albert clutches the chair in front of him to prop himself. “Whasapenin t’me?”

I watch him twitch and tremble, and it all comes together. For years, Papa joked about cyanide being the only cure. He didn’t mean the cure for Dredge, or the savages. He found the cure for real monsters.

Albert’s skin turns a deathly shade of blue.

Dies Irae. Day of Wrath.

Rhys scrambles forward across the gurney and climbs atop Albert. He hammers his fist into the bastard’s face, until splotches of red cover the blue and Albert stills beneath him. What’s left of Albert’s eyes, nose and mouth comes together in a swollen purple mass, no less disfiguring than the alphas.

Covered in blood and shaking, Rhys takes his brother’s hand and strokes the top of Brenin’s head. He lets out a roar of pain, as he presses both fists against his temple and rocks back and forth.

“Lockdown will commence in T-minus three minutes. Prepare for decontamination protocol. Lockdown will commence in T-minus three minutes.”

I nab my satchel with Papa’s journal inside from the floor, along with Albert’s gun, and crouch beside Rhys, cradling his head. “C’mon,” I whisper and plant a kiss to the back of his ear. “We have to go. We have to get out of here.”

Tucking my arm beneath his, I help him to his feet, and we rush toward the door. Through the window, the alphas fill the hallway, in a sea of blue uniforms. What remains of Doctor Ericsson is scattered among them, each of them feeding on a piece of him.

Tears fill my eyes once again, as I slide my hand in Rhys’s, and my heart sinks with despair. “There are too many of them. We won’t make it out in time.”

I don’t know how many bullets are left in the gun, but even if I shot every one of them, it wouldn’t be enough. Albert said they’d attack Rhys to get to me, like bait on a hook.

I remove my hand from his and choke back the tears. “Go. You have to get out of here.”

My feet fly out from under me, and Rhys lifts me into his arms. He kicks through the door, and I tuck my head into his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, as he carries me through the crowd of the infected. Every nerve ending across my skin is prickling with volatile energy, and my muscles twitch, poised to fight for my life. The cold hard thumps against my ribs come from my heart, ready to beat right through my chest, as we pass deformed, mutilated faces—like a sea full of monsters. Ones who were once human boys just trying to survive, like everyone else.

They hiss and back away from him, none of them daring to come near, as we keep on.