The three of us— including the girl from Sheldon's group and Lila waited outside a tent as voices went back and forth with each other. Although muffled, I could hear Aubrey's words slightly cracking under frustration as she was berated with questions.
The barrel fire beside us had reflected my anxiety clearly. Train Tracks wrapped arms around herself, shoulders shaking despite the heat. Lila just stood there, her jaw tight, eyes pinned to the flaps of the tent as light from the fire created shadows under them.
"You said you were going after 2. Why am I seeing three people?"
A muffled voice said— the scarred woman's.
Aubrey had planned on saving me too after all, huh?
I could hear her breath hitch.
"The other one has valuable information on a group we need to look into," she pushed out, the words tumbling over themselves.
"They call themselves the Crucible—…"
The silence was heavy— safe for an audible sigh that came only seconds later.
The scarred woman spoke again, quieter but heavier—
"…Did you do the usual procedures? Check corneas for redness?"
My heart dropped. She was supposed to do that???
"Yes," Aubrey answered— too quick. Way too quick.
I stepped back from the tent instinctively, like the air around it had suddenly gotten heavier. My feet carried me a few steps away before I even realized I was moving. I dragged a shaky hand through my hair, pacing in a tight line, shoes crunching over gravel.
The conversation inside the tent slowly died in my mind— my anxiety drowning everything out. The words that had once been easy to make out turned into muffled syllables, raising tones, and indistinct shapes of anger and suspicion.
My eyes flickered to Lila.
She stood perfectly still, but her eyes were following me— tracking every step, every breath, like she knew what was going through my head. In that moment, firelight that carved shadows over her face made her look half human, half something else.
I couldn't even swallow my own spit properly, my chest tightening as I stared at the weird look in her eyes that no amount of darkness could hide.
Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I was imagining things.
…who am I kidding? Things are gonna be so fucked when they find out about her.
It felt like hours before Aubrey finally emerged from the tent flap, her posture stiff— a pensive look on her face.
I shot up from the stump I'd been sitting on, dirt sticking to my palms. Lila's head snapped toward Aubrey instantly— eyes flickering with expectation.
During the wait— I atleast got the time to figure out Train Tracks' real name— Terri. She had been sitting on a stump parallel. I found making small talk with her made my nerves calm down a little— and it had been a miracle that Lila even allowed it.
She lifted her chin from the ground after seeing me stand, fingers intertwined as she waited for what Aubrey had to say.
"Well?"
My voice cracked, lower than I wanted it to be.
"The commander…" she started, eyes not quite meeting mine, "…she said the boy needs to prove himself useful."
Lila raised an eyebrow. My breath hitched.
Boy.
She meant me.
I felt like I was gonna vomit.
"She's willing to let you, Lila and Train Tracks stay if you earn it. If you prove you're not dead weight and you can help keep this place running."
The world tilted for a second.
A test, huh?
A fucking audition just to stay alive. I should've known this wasn't gonna be easy.
I forced myself not to show how much this shook me— exhaling slowly.
"…So what do I have to do?"
What the hell did I even get myself into?
The room they put me in was dark enough to make me feel like eyes were watching me from behind. I sat uncomfortably on a wooden chair, its edge digging into the back of my legs. My foot wouldn't stop tapping—soft, rapid clicks against the floor. Anxiety was controlling most of my mannerisms.
Through a reinforced window at my side, I saw them watching.
Aubrey.
Terri.
That scarred woman who made my skin crawl.
A few soldiers.
And Lila—pressed against the glass, her eyes already burning with anger and frustration.
She wasn't just nervous, she was furious. A ticking time bomb ready to blow if anything threatened me.
"So far, here's what we know,"
The scarred woman began—
"The infected are sentient. They retain memory. They remember who they were… and who you are. But most are hostile. Impulsive. They lunge without warning, without genuine reason."
My fingers curled into fists as a metal door groaned open.
My gaze turned to the two men that walked in, flanking someone whose head hung under a filthy burlap sack. Their hands clamped tight under both arms, practically dragging them. The figure twitched every few seconds—small, spasming jerks that made the cuffs rattle.
What the fuck?
The men dumped the hidden figure into a chair across the room. They began to secure them to the chair with chains, The legs scraping loudly, locks clicking— like that was enough to make me feel like I was safe.
"We still don't know what caused the outbreak. But the infected don't behave uniformly. Their impulses differ—violent one moment, passive the next. We believe the disease magnifies whatever emotions were already inside them… amplifies them into something darker."
I leaned back instinctively as I suppressed my my own hyperventilation.
"Your job," the scarred woman finally said,
"is to try and hold a conversation. See if we can understand what's going on in their minds."
There was silence.
"An interview—if you want to call it that."
I glanced towards the window to see Lila already loosing it. That didn't remove the pit in my stomach— not even slightly.
Two soldiers struggled to restrain her as she thrashed on the ground, dirty blonde hair whipping wildly, mouth open in a wordless scream. Then words broke through—ragged, furious, terrified.
"YOU CANT DO THIS!!! YOU CANT LEAVE HIM IN A ROOM WITH SOMEONE LIKE THAT—! ITS TOO DANGEROUS!!!"
Tears threatened to streak her cheeks. Everyone ignored her, or Atleast tried to. Dirt covered half of her face as the men restrained Lila— her body jerking violently.
I'd barely seen her scared before. Nor seen her as desperate as this.
But she wasn't scared for the infected.
She was scared for me.