Chapter 5 – The Covered Man
The sun barely climbed over Chicago's gray ruins.
Lucas walked with a steady step, backpack snug on his shoulder, the katana slung across his back. He'd been moving for hours through empty streets—alert, senses open, the strange energy humming under his skin.
His plan had been simple: get out of the city in a day.
He soon learned it wouldn't be that easy.
Avenues were blocked with overturned cars, rubble, and collapsed buildings. In some places the pavement had split; progress was slow. He wound through side streets, clambered over ruined structures, always careful.
He'd spent the first night hidden in an abandoned shop, the second under a bridge in his sleeping bag while distant creature groans rolled through the darkness. By careful steps and taut nerves, three days had passed since he left José's house.
On the third day, at dusk, he reached a different neighborhood. Big houses, withered lawns and iron gates. Luxury cars sat in drives, caked in dust and dry leaves.
"An upscale development…" he muttered, glancing around. "Didn't want to detour, but it's the quickest way to the next avenue."
The silence there weighed heavier than anywhere else. Doors were shut, windows boarded, the air smelling of damp wood and decay.
He moved cautiously between the parked cars, watching facades. As he rounded a corner he felt it—a pulse. A human life within thirty meters.
He stopped. A woman stood in the doorway of one of the houses, watching him.
Lucas raised a hand, calm. "Hey… hey!" he called, his voice cutting through the late-afternoon hush.
She flinched back and stared at him with wide green eyes. Her skin was as pale as snow, black hair falling to her shoulders, a slim face freckled lightly. Exhaustion carved deep shadows under her eyes, but something resolute and quietly beautiful lived in her gaze.
He stepped forward a few paces, lifting both hands to show he meant no harm.
"Am… human… no monster," he said clumsily, proud of the few English words he could force out.
She frowned, suspicious. "Who are you?" she asked, voice steady.
Lucas caught only fragments. "Name… Lucas… I… no monster," he said, pointing to his chest and making a placating gesture.
She relaxed a fraction, watching him cautiously. "You… speak English?" she asked.
He shook his head. "A little… very little," he replied with a nervous smile.
She sighed, pushed a hand through her hair, and after a beat switched languages. "¿Hablas español?"
Lucas's eyes widened. "Sí!" he said, relieved. "Sí, hablo español!"
She gave a small smile. "Thank God… I learned it at university," she said, her accent soft but clear.
Lucas nodded, almost stunned. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Megan," she answered. "I'm twenty-one… and you look like you need a place to rest."
He laughed, tired. "Yeah… three days walking and I still can't get out of this damn city."
Megan watched him for a moment, weighing him, then motioned him inside. "Come in… it's dangerous out. I've got food and water. Don't make noise. They move more at night."
"Understood. Thank you… Megan," he said.
Inside, the house was tidy, dimly lit by a kitchen lamp. Lucas dropped his pack by the door and scanned the rooms. For the first time since everything began, he didn't feel utterly alone.
The house smelled of old wood and dust but was surprisingly orderly. Windows had been boarded; a portable lamp softened the hallway. Megan led, quick but careful, her hands trembling slightly despite her even breath.
"You can leave your things there," she said quietly, pointing to a corner. "Not much time before dark."
"How long have you been here alone?" Lucas asked as he set his pack down.
"Since I woke up," she replied, shutting the door with three bolts and switching off the hallway light. "I think the same thing happened to you. I slept through the outbreak… and woke up two days later."
They sat at the kitchen table. A small, battered radio sat on the counter; the antenna was broken and the battery half dead. Megan switched it on—only static hissed.
"They haven't broadcast in two days," she murmured, lowering the volume. "The military stopped communicating. But before that… they were saying things."
Lucas leaned forward. "What did they say?"
Megan swallowed. Her voice trembled. "They said they evacuated survivors. They were moving people to safe zones: Washington, L.A., Atlanta, Houston… even up north in Dakota. But they also warned about something else…"
"What?" Lucas asked, attentive.
"That groups have formed… radical groups," she said, eyes dropping. "Some call themselves the Pure Born. White supremacists. They claim the virus is punishment to 'cleanse the world' and that only they are the superior race. They hunt foreigners and anyone who doesn't fit their idea of purity." She lifted her gaze—the fear in it real. "And you… you're not from here, are you?"
Lucas shook his head slowly. "No. I'm Latino. I came here for work years ago."
Megan nodded. "So be careful. If you cross them, they won't hesitate to kill you."
Silence fell for a moment. Only the wind whispering through a crack answered.
"What about the military?" Lucas asked. "You said they stopped communicating."
"They tried to contain the worst areas," she said, pressing her lips together. "But there are too many monsters. They live underground, in hives. Big cities are riddled with tunnels and lairs. They're intelligent—hunt in packs. And some… some have abilities." She swallowed.
Lucas listened without speaking. "Abilities? Like humans?"
"Yes," she said softly. "I saw one with my own eyes on the main avenue. It burned a car without touching it—just extended its hand and everything ignited. The virus transformed them into something beyond imagination. They're not mindless beasts. They're something new. And every night, they come out to hunt."
Lucas rubbed his face. "So nothing's left of the world we knew…"
"Nothing," Megan confirmed. "No law, no government. Everything collapsed."
After a few quiet moments she added in a thin voice, "I thought someone would come rescue me. A convoy, anything. But when the radio went silent… I knew no one was coming."
Lucas noticed her hands trembling. "What were you going to do?" he asked.
She stared at him, green eyes glassy. "I was going to kill myself. I couldn't bear it. My parents were doctors; they were evacuated with other medics and I never found out where they were taken. When I got sick they thought I was dead and left me. I've been alone since."
Lucas lowered his head, feeling the tightness in his chest. "I'm sorry, Megan. Really."
She shrugged a faint smile. "It's okay. I'm alive… and that's something."
She led him down a narrow stair to the basement. It was small but well-prepared: blankets, an inflatable mattress, candles, and boxes of canned food. A makeshift shelter—safe enough.
They sat on the floor. Lucas opened a can of beans; Megan tore stale bread. They ate in silence by a single flashlight beam.
After a while Lucas broke the quiet. "I… I woke up two days after the virus, too. But something strange happened. When I left the apartment, I felt something change in me. Last night… I confirmed it."
Megan looked at him, intrigued. "What?"
Lucas breathed deep. "A power. I don't know how to explain. I can… sense life. Not with eyes or ears. I feel it as pulses around me. I know when something alive is nearby, even if I can't see it. My range is about fifty meters. It's kept me from walking into those things."
She listened, rapt. "Can you… feel me now?"
He smiled faintly. "Yes. You're a calm, warm light. Very different from them."
She blushed and looked down. "I guess that's good, right?"
"It is," he said. "It's what's kept me alive."
The flashlight flickered. Outside the wind picked up and the upstairs floorboard creaked. Megan's head lifted, tense. "Night's coming," she whispered.
Lucas leaned back against the wall. "Then we should rest. Tomorrow we'll figure out how to leave."
She curled under a blanket. "Lucas," she murmured before sleep took her, "thank you for not leaving me alone."
He watched her, a small smile on his face. "No one should be alone in this world."
Outside the wind roared again. In the basement's dark, two survivors shared their only refuge: hope.
They slept to the creak of the wind and the flashlight's hum. Lucas slept deeply, leaning on the wall, when something warm woke him slowly: Megan was pressed against his neck, her breath warm. Her body had tangled with his under the blankets, seeking heat. He froze for a moment, not daring to move.
Dawn bled thin through the basement slats. Megan opened her eyes and, realizing their position, jumped up and instinctively slapped him.
"Ouch!" Lucas touched his face in surprise. "What the—?"
Megan covered her face with both hands, cheeks bright as a cherry. "I'm sorry, sorry!" she stammered. "I didn't mean— I was asleep and it was so cold…" She bowed her head, embarrassed.
He watched, amused and mildly sore. "Well… now I know you've got reflexes," he joked, rubbing his cheek.
She let out a nervous laugh and the mood softened.
"I'll make coffee," she said, rifling through supplies.
"Coffee?" Lucas grinned. "If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is."
They lit a small camp stove. Coffee aroma mixed with toasted bread and the quiet of morning. For a few minutes the outside world didn't exist.
"How long has it been since I had breakfast with someone?" Megan said, offering him a cup.
"Same here," Lucas replied. "I was getting used to talking to myself."
They ate slowly, trading nervous laughs and quick memories of life before the collapse.
When they finished, Lucas leaned back against the wall and met her gaze. "Megan… I want to tell you something. I have a plan."
She looked up, curious. "A plan?"
"Yes. I'm heading to Washington. They said the military set up a safe zone there. It's the only thing that makes sense right now."
Megan was quiet, then cracked a small, relieved smile. "Can I come with you?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You want to come?"
"Yes." She didn't hesitate. "I don't want to stay here. I don't know if there's hope there, but I'd rather try with someone alive."
He nodded, satisfied. "Okay. But we need to prepare. Thick pants, sturdy boots, winter clothes. The cold is getting worse every day."
She blinked. "We're not taking a car?"
"No," Lucas said. "I don't want noise in the city. Those monsters… we've been lucky so far. I won't risk it. We'll find a vehicle once we're out."
She crossed her arms and sighed. "On foot… great," she muttered.
He smiled softly. "Definitely grew up in a rich neighborhood, huh?"
"What?" she shot back, frowning.
"Nothing, nothing," he said, laughing. "Go get ready, señorita."
She shot him a glare but ended up smiling. "All right, Latin soldier," she said, heading upstairs.
Lucas waited below, checking his pack and the map. An hour later her footsteps came down again. Megan wore a thick coat, tight pants, sturdy boots, and a gray scarf. She carried a light pack and a small white bag.
"What's in that?" he asked.
"Medicine," she said. "Painkillers, antibiotics, bandages… whatever was left in the house. Could be useful on the road."
He smiled. "Perfect. Looks like we'll make a good team."
She smiled too—eyes still shimmering with a mixture of fear and hope.
"So… shall we go?" she asked softly.
He tightened his pack straps and looked at the basement door. Dawn had cleared the sky, cold air slicing through cracks.
"Yes," he said firmly. "Time to leave Chicago behind."
The day was clear, but the air felt heavy and dense. The city's leftover streets were concrete skeletons. Their footsteps echoed on cracked asphalt. Wind nipped at their faces.
They'd been walking nearly three days since leaving the shelter. José's map showed them near the city's edge. The route looked clear—too quiet.
Then Megan stopped cold. "Lucas…" she breathed.
Ahead, a wrecked vehicle lay twisted in the sun. Metal shone; around it were bodies—or what was left of them. Flesh had been torn away as if something devoured the victims alive. Dried blood stained the street; bones protruded among the ruins.
Megan choked back a scream and clapped her hands over her mouth. Lucas grabbed her and hushed her. "Don't look. Don't make noise," he whispered into her ear.
She trembled, breath shaking. He held her until she steadied, then released her gently and they moved on slowly, hearts pounding.
But something changed. Lucas felt it first: a pulse in his mind, that familiar vibration. A presence forty, maybe fifty meters away.
"Megan," he whispered, voice taut. "There's someone else."
She scanned the avenue. In the middle of the street, under the sun, a man stood. He was wrapped head to toe in a blanket or coat that kept every ray of light from touching his skin. He stood motionless, watching them.
The world seemed to pause. Lucas narrowed his eyes; his inner pulse thrummed.
The man slowly raised a hand and made a simple gesture: come closer.
Megan stepped forward. "Lucas! He's a survivor. We should talk to him."
"No." Lucas's voice was firm. "Something's wrong. Why is he covered like that in daylight?"
She frowned at the stranger. "Maybe he's injured or afraid of UV rays… I don't know."
"No, Megan." Lucas tightened his jaw and handed her his bow. "Take this. Use the binoculars and watch him carefully."
She obeyed, bringing the binoculars to her face with shaking hands. "He's fully covered," she whispered. "You can't see anything. No skin, no face. Just clothes."
Lucas raised a hand and returned the gesture. The man repeated the signal—come closer.
Lucas inhaled. "Megan… I'm going to approach. If anything goes wrong, run. Understood?"
"What? No! Don't go alone."
"Calm down. I'll be quick and quiet. You stay here and cover me with the bow. If he moves weird, shoot."
She nodded, fear biting her lip. "Be careful."
He smiled faintly, trying to project calm. "Always."
He drew the katana. The steel flashed in the sun as he walked forward, slow, eyes fixed on the covered man. Each step sounded like a drum. The stranger matched his pace until they stood ten meters apart.
That's when Lucas felt it—the pulse. The energy. It was the same dark, warped vibration he'd felt around the monsters.
"No way…" he muttered. "It's like them."
At close range the stench hit: rotten flesh mixed with wet earth. The man tilted his head and signaled again to come nearer.
Lucas called out, "Why are you so covered, friend? It's warm."
The man didn't answer. He only inclined his head and gestured more urgently.
Then his body shuddered—first a tremor, then violent convulsions, as if something inside tore itself.
Megan, watching from afar, nocked an arrow and whispered, "Lucas… something's wrong."
Lucas stepped back. His ability flared automatically. A thin, translucent layer of energy cloaked him from head to toe, faintly glowing in sunlight.
The stranger raised his head. A dry, unnatural sound escaped his throat. The blanket started to tear.
The man convulsed; the cloth fell away like old skin—and what crawled out from beneath was not human.
Skin so white it reflected light. Eyes fully black, no pupils. The air around it carried the scent of burnt meat, but sunlight barely affected it: it smoldered, yes, but did not falter.
The creature lifted its face and stared at Lucas. "Luu…cas…" it rasped, a cavernous, broken voice, each word sounding like bones grinding.
A chill crawled down Lucas's spine. "How do you know my name?" he asked, taking a step back.
The thing smiled, revealing long, uneven teeth. "I… see… your… light," it growled and took a step forward.
The air grew heavy. Lucas felt his inner pulse race. His power began to simmer across his skin. "Come on, bastard," he whispered—and leapt.
The collision was violent. The katana sang through the air, but the creature stopped the blade with its bare forearm; the metal struck flesh that had the hardness of stone. No scratch.
Lucas staggered, stunned. "What—?"
The monster charged, throwing the kind of force that sent him rolling across the asphalt. He managed to throw his energy up as a shield and was hurled meters away.
"Lucas!" Megan called, bow trembling. She released an arrow; it whistled past, grazing the monster's back. Missed.
"Shit!" she cursed, nocking another. The second arrow struck the monster's shoulder, only to bounce off as if it hit metal.
The creature turned to her with a low, guttural growl. Panic climbed her spine but she kept shooting. The next arrow missed again.
Lucas pushed himself up, gasping. His ability glowed faintly; his body burned with adrenaline. The monster moved with impossible speed. He blocked blow after blow. Each strike shook him like a hammer.
The power held him but was beginning to falter. "Come on! Not so fast!" Lucas roared, swinging a horizontal slash. The creature leaned back, dodging by inches, then kicked him into an abandoned car. The impact folded metal like paper.
Megan screamed his name through tears. The monster smashed the car's hood with a fist. Lucas rolled aside just in time.
"Move!" he told himself and staggered to his feet. The sun dimmed under thick clouds; the monster seemed to relish it—its skin smoked less and its breath grew stronger.
Lucas attacked again. Steel met flesh and bone but only left faint marks. The thing shoved him backward with almost casual cruelty. "Why… won't you die?" he growled, desperation heating his voice.
The creature bared blackened teeth. "We are… the new… life," it hissed.
Lucas's jaw locked; fury lit his eyes. Energy crackled, wrapping him like liquid fire. Vapor poured from his skin in white plumes.
Megan watched, mouth agape. "My God… what are you, Lucas?" she breathed.
He roared and slammed into the monster. His speed increased; he began to anticipate its moves. Thuds of impact rolled like thunder.
An arrow grazed the creature—Megan had finally hit—but it barely distracted it. Still, Lucas seized the sliver of opportunity and struck with everything he had. The blade rebounded again; not a drop of blood.
He backed away, chest heaving; the aura around him trembled. The power was draining him. His muscles seared.
The monster advanced with a slow, confident grace; its black eyes shone with almost human malice. "You… will… die," it whispered, licking cracked lips.
He raised the katana, trembling. If I could channel my power into the blade… he thought.
The monster laughed—a low, empty sound—and paused ten meters away, head cocked with a cruel smile, savoring his terror. Veins pulsed in its neck like ropes ready to burst.
Lucas closed his eyes and remembered: that first night when he'd killed a thing with only a kitchen knife. How had he done it? Maybe—just maybe—his power had been at work then, too.
His ability answered the thought. Heat built up inside him again, a current climbing his arms. He focused, pushing that energy into the katana.
"Come on… I can do this," he told himself.
The monster lunged. Time didn't stop—but perception narrowed to a hairline moment like the seconds before death. Lucas saw the world in slow-motion.
"Now," he whispered.
His power flowed from his body into the blade. The katana shimmered, cloaked in a translucent sheen that flickered like liquid fire.
The monster's fist came for his head. Lucas slipped down, evading by a breath, and in the same motion spun, driving the sword with everything he had.
The blade cut clean.
The creature's body split from abdomen to the opposite shoulder. Flesh parted with a wet, tearing sound and a burst of black vapor sprayed from the wound.
It fell to its knees, looking at Lucas with an almost human look of surprise. "Luu…cas…" it breathed one last time before collapsing onto the pavement.
Silence returned. Only the wind and Lucas's ragged breathing filled the street. He knelt, katana planted in the ground, utterly spent.
Megan sprinted to him, tears streaking down her face. "Lucas! Are you okay?" she cried, throwing herself into his arms.
He tried to breathe regular. The energy mist faded slowly from his pores, white smoke drifting away.
"I did it," he murmured between gasps.
She clung to him, sobbing. "I thought you were going to die… I thought I'd lose you too."
He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "I'm not going to die… not yet."
The monster's body evaporated slowly under the sun, turning to something like ash on the breeze. Megan stared at the remains—fear and wonder mingled on her face. "What was that?"
"Something new," Lucas said, struggling to stand. "Something the virus made… and sunlight doesn't stop it anymore."
He lifted the katana, still faintly glowing. "But now I know how to kill them."
Tears still wet on her cheeks, Megan's eyes held a new spark. "So… we have a chance, right?"
Lucas inhaled, looking down the ruined horizon where the city ended. "Yes," he said with steady resolve. "And I won't waste it."