CHAPTER 66: DAWN’S UNCERTAIN LIGHT

The morning air hit us as Rachel and I emerged from the pharmacy’s cramped confines. I had expected to find the street still crawling with Infected—those grotesque creatures that had been drawn by the Fire Spitter’s otherworldly beacon just hours before. Instead, we were greeted by an almost eerie silence, broken only by the distant moans.

The Infected horde that had surrounded the building was gone, dispersed back into whatever dark corners they called home during daylight hours. It was a small mercy.

"Let’s go, Rachel," I said, turning to check on her. She had been unusually quiet since we’d hastily dressed and prepared to leave, and I was beginning to worry about how she was processing everything that had happened between us.

"Y...yes," she stammered, her voice catching slightly when her eyes met mine.

I caught the way she quickly looked away, a flush creeping up her neck. It was understandable, really. The physical changes that had manifested in me after our encounter were becoming more pronounced, more difficult to ignore. My reflection in the pharmacy’s dusty mirror had confirmed what I’d suspected—something fundamental was shifting in my appearance, some subtle but unmistakable alteration that marked me as different, as other.

Rachel, having been so intimately close to me, having studied my face in those quiet moments between passion and exhaustion, would naturally be the first to notice. I could only hope that the others back at the municipal office wouldn’t react with fear or suspicion. The last thing we needed was to create panic there.

"Did you take the morning after pill, Rachel?" I asked, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

The question was practical, necessary, but it felt crude in the cool morning air. While we had been trapped in the pharmacy, I had suggested she gather some supplies—including emergency contraception. Given that I had been forced to release inside her, the precaution seemed essential.

Rachel’s hand moved unconsciously to her stomach, a gesture so brief I might have imagined it. "I should be safe, but I’ll monitor the situation," she said. "The timing isn’t ideal for conception, but..."

"I understand," I said, not wanting to force her to elaborate. "Just be careful. I mean, pregnancy and a baby at this time..." I let the words trail off, unable to finish the thought.

In a different world, in different circumstances, the possibility of new life might have been cause for celebration. But here, now, with Infected roaming the streets and alien forces hunting for people like me, bringing a child into existence seemed almost cruel. We were barely managing to keep ourselves alive, let alone care for someone completely helpless and dependent.

At least not until we could be sure we could afford it I mean...and if Rachel wanted a baby to begin with.

Wait, what I am thinking about?!

I was already thinking like she was my girlfriend or wife.

I shook my head quickly.

We walked in contemplative silence for several blocks, each lost in our own thoughts, until Rachel spoke again. "By the way, Ryan at the municipal office they had been attacked even before we arrived there. Like you said earlier... you think they weren’t targeted randomly, right?"

"Yeah," I nodded grimly. "Actually, now I’m certain of it. They attacked because there’s someone abnormal in that community. Someone like me."

"Do you have any idea who it could be?" Rachel asked.

"I have no idea," I admitted. "It could be anyone, really. Hell, that person might not even be aware of their own abilities yet. But as long as they’re there, everyone around them will continue to be targeted. And now that their presence has been clearly detected..."

I didn’t need to finish the thought. We both understood the implications. Whoever this person was, they had inadvertently painted a target on their entire community. The alien forces—whatever they were, wherever they had come from—now knew exactly where to look.

"What about you?" Rachel asked.

"I don’t know," I said honestly. "Maybe I’m still under the radar. Unless someone observed me from a distance when I destroyed that Fire Spitter, I might still be in the clear. But..."

I paused, considering the weight of my next words. The truth was, I didn’t feel safe. Every instinct I had was screaming that it was only a matter of time before I was discovered, before the same fate that had befallen the other community came for us.

"I don’t think it will continue like this much longer," I continued. "Honestly, I’m starting to think it might be dangerous for me to stay in the same town as another targeted individual. It’s just a matter of time before I’m found out, especially if we’re in the same general area."

The logical conclusion was obvious, even if I didn’t want to voice it. The safest thing—for everyone—would be for me to leave. To keep moving, stay ahead of whatever forces were hunting people like me. But the thought of abandoning the women who needed my help, of leaving Rachel and the others to face an uncertain future alone, made me physically ill and I was reluctant...

"You’re thinking about leaving," Rachel said.

"I’m thinking about survival," I replied. "For all of us."

She was quiet for a long moment, and when she finally spoke. "You are thinking too much, Ryan..."

"I don’t know," I said. "I honestly don’t know."

We didn’t speak much after that. The municipal office came into view as we rounded the final corner, and I was relieved to see signs of activity. People were moving about with purpose, working to repair the barriers that had been damaged in the previous night’s attack.

As Rachel and I approached the building, several of the survivors noticed us and stopped what they were doing. I saw their eyes widen in a mixture of relief and something else—surprise, maybe, or concern.

"You two... you’re alive," Clara said, emerging from a group of workers who had been reinforcing the main entrance. Her voice carried genuine emotion, and I could see the relief written plainly across her face. "Thank God. When that thing continued firing those... whatever they were... we thought for sure you’d been caught in it."

"Yeah, we made it through," I replied. "How did things go here? Did you lose many people?"

Clara’s expression darkened, and she exchanged glances with some of the other survivors. "It was... it was hard," she said finally. "We lost more than I want to count. But the ones who made it through, we managed to keep them safe. The barriers held, mostly."

Her words confirmed what I had suspected—the attack on the municipal office had been secondary, a distraction or perhaps just collateral damage from the main assault on the other community. The real target had been elsewhere, which meant my theory about there being another person with abilities was likely correct.

"I see," I mumbled.

"Ryan! Rachel!"

The voice that boomed across the courtyard was instantly recognizable. Martin came barreling out of the main building, his face split by a grin.

"I can’t believe it!" He exclaimed, reaching us in a few quick strides and grasping my shoulders with hands that shook slightly from adrenaline or relief. "You really made it out alive! That thing that was firing those... those fireball things! You took it down, didn’t you?"

His eyes were bright with excitement and hope, and I found myself nodding before I could think better of it. "Yeah," I confirmed.

"I knew it!" Martin practically shouted, his voice carrying across the courtyard and drawing the attention of everyone within earshot. "I was sure of it when the firing stopped so suddenly! I knew you two had something to do with it!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and I saw smiles beginning to appear on the faces of the other survivors. They were very relieved hearing that thing had been destroyed.

"I’m sorry, but I lost your shotgun in the process," I said, feeling the need to address that.

Martin waved off my concern with characteristic generosity. "Don’t worry about it! The important thing is that both of you are alive and in one piece!" His expression shifted then, becoming more serious as Margaret appeared beside him, her own face etched with curiosity and concern. "But tell me, did you see who was behind it? What exactly was that thing that was firing at us?"

I had been dreading this question, knowing that the truth would be impossible for them to believe or accept. How could I explain that we were being hunted by alien forces using living weapons beyond their comprehension? How could I describe the Fire Spitter without sounding like I had completely lost my mind?

"It was some kind of strange weapon," I said finally, choosing my words carefully. "I didn’t have much time to examine it closely because of all the Infected in the area, but I was able to destroy it before it could do any more damage."

It wasn’t technically a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Martin and Margaret exchanged glances, clearly sensing that I was holding something back, but neither pressed the issue.

"Well, at least it’s over now," Martin said. "We can start rebuilding, start making this place truly secure."

"No," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly judging by the way both of them stepped back slightly. "I mean, I’m not sure it’s over. They might come back. You need to stay vigilant, keep your defenses up."

"You really think they’ll be back?" Margaret asked, approaching.

I looked around at the faces surrounding us—men, women, some barely more than children, all looking to me for answers I didn’t have. They wanted reassurance, wanted to believe that the worst was behind them. But I couldn’t give them that false comfort, not when the alternative might mean their deaths.

"I think you need to be prepared for anything," I said at last, my voice firmer than I intended. My eyes swept across their faces—Margaret, Martin, Clara, the others. They all looked tired, but beneath that exhaustion lingered a quiet stubbornness, the kind only people who had built their whole lives in one place could carry.

"Have you thought about leaving this place?" I asked them, though the question left a bitter taste on my tongue.

Unless the person these raiders—or whatever those forces were—were hunting truly left the community, I knew they would never be safe. They would be living under a constant shadow.

Margaret lowered her gaze, her hands folding tightly over each other. "Leaving... it’s difficult," she said quietly. "We’ve all lived here our whole lives. Some of us are old, and the children..." She glanced at Clara, then Martin. "We don’t know if we could survive outside. Out there, it’s not home. It’s just danger."

Her words hung heavy in the air.

I understood them—more than I wanted to admit. If this place was all you’d ever known, the idea of walking away into a world of uncertainty and monsters was unbearable. But...

My fists clenched at my sides.

If things continued this way, they were all going to die. Maybe what I had done yesterday bought them a few days, maybe weeks at most. But the next time those things came back, they wouldn’t send just a Fire Spitter. They would send something worse, something stronger—something this place couldn’t hope to withstand.

"I see," I said finally, though my chest felt tight. "Then just... be careful. Stay watchful."

It felt hollow, but what else could I say? They weren’t wrong. This wasn’t a hardened group of survivors ready to pack up and march across the wasteland. This was a community. A family. With elders, children, mothers, and fathers who’d planted their roots here long before the world turned upside down. Asking them to abandon it all would have been cruel.

Margaret’s expression softened as she offered me a kind smile. "We will. Thank you, Ryan. Are you and Rachel heading back to your friends now? Or... would you like to stay a little longer? You and your friends will always have a place here."

Her sincerity made it even harder to answer.

"No," I said, shaking my head gently. "That’s kind of you, but we should get back. They’ll be waiting for us."

"A shame," Martin sighed, though he gave me a respectful nod. "But our doors are open to you. Don’t hesitate to return."

Clara lifted her hand in a cheerful wave. "Take care, Ryan! You too, Rachel."

Rachel returned the gesture with a smile, while I gave a simple nod of acknowledgment.

I was just about to turn away when something prickled at the back of my neck. A gaze.

My eyes flicked toward one of the nearby buildings.

There—through the cracked window—two piercing red eyes stared back at me.

Wanda.

She stood in the shadows, silent, unreadable. Her expression was obscured, but the intensity of her stare sent a shiver down my spine. Then, just as suddenly, she turned and disappeared from the window.

I raised a brow, unsettled, before finally turning back.

Rachel and I had already packed our bags earlier, so there was nothing left to delay us. Martin had offered us another vehicle, but we refused politely. We didn’t want to take more than we already had. Better to walk back to where Sydney’s car was parked—if it was still there, untouched.

The two of us made our way out of the Municipal office yards, leaving the quiet community behind. The dirt road stretched out before us.

"It feels like weeks since we last saw them," Rachel said suddenly.

I exhaled slowly, nodding. "Yeah... a lot happened in a short time."

And a lot more might still happen.

I was caught in that thought when I felt something soft wrap around my hand. I looked down, startled, and saw Rachel’s fingers lacing into mine.

Her eyes were steady, her lips curved in a small but reassuring smile. "Everything will turn out okay," she said quietly. "I’m here too, you know. To support you from now on with my new power."

"Yeah..." I said, my voice softer than before. A smile tugged at my lips as I squeezed her hand back, grounding myself in its warmth. "Yeah, I know."