Apocalypse Rebirth: Seven Days to Hoard and Take Revenge

Cora's eyes snapped open. Her chest heaved violently, sucking in air as if she had been drowning. Her lungs burned. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard it felt like it might crack her sternum. She threw her hands up over her face, bracing for the tearing of flesh, the hot spray of blood, the rotting teeth of the infected sinking into her neck. Nothing happened. There was no pain. Just a sharp, stinging pinch on the back of her left hand. The heavy scent of bleach mixed with the sickeningly sweet smell of vanilla candles flooded her nose. It instantly shattered the bloody illusion of the apocalyptic ruins. Her vision was blurred, a lingering side effect of the high fever. She blinked hard, forcing the double images to merge into the familiar, clean lines of her single dorm room at the university. A muffled sob came from the chair next to her bed. The person crying was deliberately slowing their breathing, making the sound soft and pitiful. Cora turned her head. Hailee sat there, dabbing at perfectly dry eyes with a tissue. Declan stood right behind Hailee. He took a step forward and placed his hand on Hailee's shoulder. The movement was so natural, so fluid, it looked like they had practiced it a thousand times. Cora's pupils shrank to pinpricks. The memory of their faces-twisted in ugly survival instinct as they shoved her backward into the zombie horde-superimposed perfectly over the concerned expressions they wore right now. A violent wave of nausea hit her stomach. The room spun. Cora bit down hard on the side of her tongue. The sharp pain and the metallic taste of blood grounded her, forcing her mind to stay sharp. Hailee noticed her movement. She lunged at the bed, grabbing Cora's cold fingers with both hands. "Oh my god, you're finally awake," Hailee said, her voice trembling with a practiced sweetness. "I thought this awful meningitis was going to take you away from us." Cora looked down. Hailee was gripping her hand so tightly that her manicured nails were digging into Cora's skin, leaving angry red half-moons. Declan moved to the other side of the bed. He leaned over, his voice a low, magnetic hum. "Cora. Hey, baby." Cora's fingers twitched. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to grab the heavy metal IV pole and smash it into his skull. Instead, she slowly lifted her head and stared at him with blank, exhausted eyes. "Water," Cora rasped. Her throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. Declan immediately turned toward the water dispenser across the room. In the split second he turned his back, Cora caught it. Declan and Hailee exchanged a look. It was fast, but it was there. Pure, unadulterated annoyance. Cora shifted her gaze past them, locking onto the digital clock on her desk. October 14. 2:00 PM. The floodgates of her memory burst open. The Cerberus virus would leak from the underground lab in Manhattan in exactly seven days. Declan walked back with a plastic cup of warm water. He reached out, trying to slide his hand behind Cora's neck to lift her head. Cora flinched away, turning her head sharply. "My neck is stiff," she lied, her voice completely flat. She reached out and took the cup from his hand. The warm water slid down her throat, easing the physical ache, but doing nothing to put out the cold fire burning in her chest. Hailee kept talking, rambling about how worried she had been, making sure to highlight how many hours she had spent sitting in that uncomfortable chair. Cora set the cup on the bedside table. She pressed her fingers against her temples, rubbing them slowly. "My head is killing me," Cora whispered, making her voice sound weaker than it was. "I need quiet. Please." Hailee's mouth snapped shut. A flash of irritation crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with an understanding smile. Declan reached out and tucked the blanket around Cora's shoulders. "Get some rest," Declan said softly. "I'll bring you that chicken soup you love tonight." They turned and walked toward the door together. As they faced away from the bed, Declan's fingers brushed against Hailee's palm. He hooked his pinky around hers for a fraction of a second. Cora watched them through half-closed eyes. Her stomach twisted again, but this time, the corners of her mouth twitched upward into a cold smile. The door clicked shut. The sound of their footsteps echoed down the hallway, moving faster, clearly relieved to be out of the room. The second the sound faded, Cora threw the blanket off. She calmly peeled off the medical tape securing the IV catheter, pulling the needle from her vein without a single ounce of hesitation. A small bead of dark blood welled up, and she casually grabbed a tissue from the bedside table, pressing it over the puncture wound. Her eyes remained completely devoid of emotion as the red stain bloomed against the white paper. She stepped onto the freezing hardwood floor barefoot and walked straight to the full-length mirror. The girl staring back at her was pale and sickly, but her eyes were different. They were the eyes of a wolf that had already died once. The countdown had started.