The house had fallen back into a unsettling quiet.
Kyle's pickup had rumbled down the road a moment earlier, its taillights vanishing into the darkness of approaching night. Edward remained where he sat, one hand still hovering over the resting place of the scanner, as if expecting the cold, metallic object to bring some kind of salvation or epiphany. The other hand was gripped by the bandaged shoulder, as if anticipating something to find its way through and catch it at any second.
The scanner had detected nothing.
No viral load. No abnormalities. No atypical inflammation. No neurological shift. Nothing.
But Edward felt it. He felt the heat coiling under the skin, the odd pressure on his chest, the slight vibration in his fingertips. The bite was still, buried deep beneath the gauze, and the virus—the thing that had developed inside him—wasn't letting go.
It was spreading.
A cold shiver ran down his spine, a wave of sensation that shivered the base of his neck. Something in the room shifted.
A presence.
Edward did not move.
It took a breath that was not his, a breath heavy with something other. And then the voice spoke, smooth and measured, familiar now. It had become him.
You did that well," it said, its voice echoing in the vacant room, too calm, too sure.
Edward didn't look up at first. He already knew the voice.
It wasn't a delusion. Not like the shadows or the whispers that had become so common. This was different. Solid. Smart. Real.
He glared at the empty space on the other side of the table, as if daring it to show itself.
"Silence was not on the table," Edward growled, the words feeling inadequate on his lips.
"We never agreed," the voice answered with a hint of mirth. "You declined. I accommodated."
Edward's own breath froze as he cautiously raised his gaze.
It was sitting there now. Not in the corner of his vision. Not a distortion of the air. No. It was sitting across the table, perfectly composed, as if it belonged there. A man—late thirties, dressed sharply in a charcoal suit, the kind of person you'd glance at once and then forget.
Except for the eyes.
The eyes were wrong. The irises glowed faintly silver, like moonlight through cloudy glass. The eyes were too wide, too aware, too knowing.
Edward's breath froze, and the figure smiled, too wide, too toothy.
"You're not real," Edward breathed, this time, his voice shaking.
"And yet, here we are." The figure's smile widened, too many teeth to be pleasant. "You didn't tell him."
Edward's heart missed a beat in his chest. "What are you saying?"
The figure's eyes were sparkling. "Kyle. He ran tests. He tried to make sense out of what was happening. But you never said anything to him about the bite. About me."
Edward moved uncomfortably in his chair, unease traveling up his spine. "I didn't see that I needed to."
The figure's smile eased, but didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know better than that. You knew he'd dig around. And now he's asking questions he can't even begin to understand."
Edward stood up, the agony in his shoulder stabbing as he did so. He could feel the tension beneath his skin—the throbbing, the hunger.
"You can't keep covering," Edward snarled. "You said I was clean. You promised it."
"I said you were safe," the voice corrected, shifting, almost playful in sound. "But the thing is, you're more sensitive than you realize. The scans didn't register me, Edward. But I'm here. Inside. And Kyle's going to keep probing. He'll rescan. Deeper. He'll find me sooner or later, and when he does…"
It left the sentence unfinished, but Edward didn't need it to. The unspoken words hung in the air, thick and suffocating.
"I'll share the risk if you help me to stay hidden," the figure continued, the voice soft, compelling. "You help me to keep the truth from him, and I help you to stay alive."
Edward's heart was pounding. He held onto the counter, his hands clenching on the rim as he stood. "What are you talking about, 'keep me alive'?"
The figure stood up slowly, as if the process of standing was itself some inevitability. It was tall and gaunt, its posture perfect. It took a step closer, and the room closed in around them.
I mean this." She gestured vaguely in the direction of Edward, then at the gauze bandage across his shoulder. "You're dying slowly. That's what it does to most of them, you know? The ones who come near the virus but don't take it fully. They hang around. Sick. Weak. They refer to it as a 'suppressed carrier.' The body resists, but eventually gives in.
Edward was breathing more rapidly. Throat dry, heart pounding in some other man's chest, shoulder wound stinging in sync with the beats. "So what? You expect me to trust you?"
The figure inclined its head, as if weighing the question. "You don't trust me. And I don't trust you. But we need to assist one another, Edward."
It took another step toward him, close enough now that Edward could feel the faint shift in the air. It wasn't just there. It was inside him, burrowing into the spaces between his ribs.
"You're not a disease anymore," the figure continued, its voice growing deeper, almost sympathetic. "You're something new. Something more."
Edward shook his head, feeling the tightness in his chest, the sickness creeping into his bones.
No," he said, voice trembling. "I'm not turning into one of them."
The man smiled—small, thin, smiling. "You already are. I've been here the entire time. Inside you. Keeping you alive. Your immune system would have collapsed on its own. That's what happens to the infected who don't adapt. The virus would have killed you, Edward. But I stopped that.".
Edward looked away, trembling, hands still holding the counter for support. Wanted to refuse it. Wanted to yell. But couldn't.
"Please," Edward panted. "Leave me alone."
The figure chuckled low, dark. "I've been inside you long enough. I'm not leaving. And neither are you."
There was an eternity of silence. The house felt too confining. The walls too narrow. The air too thick.
Finally, the figure spoke again, its voice deeper, softer.
"You keep me hidden. I keep you alive. Easy. You don't tell Kyle what you really are. I make you strong. Sharp. I'll keep you from going crazy."
Edward shook his head, eyes closed. "What if Kyle finds out the truth?"
The figure grinned, a hungry look in its silvered eyes. "By then, it'll be too late."
And with that, it spun around and headed into the hallway. Edward didn't pursue. He couldn't.
The room was silent.
Too silent.
He lay still for what felt like hours. The silence pressed down on him, but it wasn't quite the same. Something observed, something waited.
And the bandage on his shoulder—the one he hadn't even had the courage to unroll—was growing damp again, spreading its darkness by the minute.