They went back to Phelps, hoping he could help them even though they were returning empty handed. But when they arrived, something was not right.

Papers littered the street and yard, rolling in the wind and fleeing from the car wheels as they drove up. Rowan got out of the car before it even stopped, spotting the cellar doors left wide open. The little bit of calm she obtained in the car faded into a deep dread. Someone had gotten here first, and she could only assume who.

They entered Phelps’ cellar, his miniature laboratory completely trashed. Papers and files were thrown everywhere, equipment knocked over on tables and laid broken. A liquid leaked out onto the floor, and a gas spout burned.

Rowan hurried over quickly to extinguish the flame and turn the gas off. She swore under her breath all the while, a panic setting in again. This was her fault. She had been the one to mention Phelps. If she hadn’t said anything, if she hadn’t come here in the first place, maybe he would've been safe. This was the reason he left the project to begin with. To stay out of it. To stay safe.

She heard her name, called on a breath from the corner of the room. Rowan finally caught sight of him, sitting on the floor, almost under his desk, a shelf and filing cabinet knocked over and blocking his shape.

She hurried over, shoving the broken furniture aside to sit next to him. He breathed heavily, wincing with every inhale, sweat beaded on his forehead. He was as pale as a ghost, and Rowan’s fingers shook as she checked his pulse and looked him over. He bled from his nose and mouth, signs of an internal injury.

“Miller,” Phelps managed to strain out. She already connected the dots, nodding as he confirmed. If Miller attacked him in any way like how she had attacked them, it only made sense that the old man had broken. “She came... For my research.”

Rowan had been trying to help Phelps sit up a little more, but stopped at his words. “Research, what research?”

“The cure. I was working on an antivirus. It was almost complete when I offered it to her, but she turned me down. She said it was a waste of resources. It was when I left.” Phelps coughed as he finished, blood coming up into his hand. Rowan could hear his heart from where she sat, weak and strained, like the breaths of a dying bird. The smell of his blood was everywhere.

“She took the virus. When we were there, she injected it into herself. Why does she want your cure research?”

Rowan was confused. At the laboratories, it seemed Miller wasn’t interested in the research anymore, overtaken by the intoxication of the virus’ power. Why would she want anything to do with an antivirus now?

Phelps shook his head. “She didn’t want to use it. She wanted to destroy it. So she destroyed everything and left me to die.”

“You’re not going to die, we’re going to take you to the hospital.” She beckoned for Lyall to come help her, but as they tried to pick Phelps up, he fell into another coughing fit and collapse to the floor again. More blood on his hands and lips, and Rowan tremble harder.

“It’s too late,” he said, his head falling back against the wall. “There’s no time.”

Rowan objected, tears filling her eyes. “Not you, too. Please. We need you.”

She couldn’t let Miller take someone else from her. No, she refused. She tried again to pick him up. He wasn’t so heavy, but his limbs were awkward, and she could tell that moving him was causing him far more pain than he could handle. She cried out, letting him settle again on the floor, taking his hand in hers instead.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He forced a smile, despite the fact that it caused him to cough again. After catching a breath, he wheezed out a few more words. “Miller is trying to erase the project’s existence. She’ll go after the others next. They were all staying… At the old Victorian Inn... Near the waterfront.”

“Rowan, the cops are coming. If we’re going to do something about Miller we need to go, now.” Lyall said, at the door acting as lookout. When Rowan stretched her hearing, she caught the approaching sirens also.

She cursed, squeezing Phelps’ hand, and prayed briefly that they would be able to help him. Maybe he had a chance, maybe it wasn’t too late.

“My pocket, Rowan.” Phelps’ voice rasped and dry. He tried to take his free hand and get into his pant pocket, but Rowan did it for him, pulling out the object he was reaching for. A vial, with a clear liquid in it, sealed off tight.

“The antivirus. I made it while you were gone. One dose.”

She gaped at him for a moment, bewildered. “I thought you said the research wasn’t done.”

Phelps spoke slow, barely whispers that Rowan had to lean close to him to hear. “My recipe was complete, I just never had what I needed to make it. I needed a sample of the original virus, and Miller never allowed it.”

She shook her head, still not understanding. “Where did you get the sample of the virus? Lyall’s blood was contaminated when you took it.” Something turned in Rowan’s gut, a part of her already knowing what he was going to say, but didn’t want to believe it.

It was impossible.

Phelps grimaced, like he didn’t want to tell her. It was not the time for secrets, though.

Not anymore.

“I used your blood, Rowan. It’s what I was going to tell you before you left. You contracted the virus somehow. It’s taking over your bloodstream as we speak.”

Rowan sat motionless, too shocked, her mind running circles to deny it. “I didn’t though. It’s impossible, there’s no way—” There was a way though. In her thoughtlessness, wrapped up in an inevitable moment with Lyall, she hadn’t been thinking about protecting herself from a virus. She had completely forgotten all together that it was even a possibility. Even now, with her logic confirming it, it seemed unfeasible.

Then she remembered, though, all the little details that had been going overlooked, ignored, pushed aside. Her healing wound, her suddenly excellent hearing, her changing vision. She had taken Miller down because she was growing stronger, and over Cameron’s bloody body, she experienced her first passing with the hunger that consumed Lyall while he was infected.

She stared at the wall, the shock dissipating into nervous panic. She shut her eyes tight to fight off the anxiety. Phelps squeezed her hand, getting her attention again. “It will be okay, Rowan. It’ll all be ok. Take the antivirus. Once you stop Miller, you can take the antivirus and be human again. I made it for you.”

Rowan nodded, her lips shaking as she leaned down to kiss his hand. He smiled, trying to repress another coughing fit as it overcame him.

“Cops. Rowan.” Lyall reminded, more urgency in his voice this time.

She held back a sob, refusing herself tears as she whispered an apology and a thank you to Phelps. She then stood, hurrying over to the cabinet and grabbing a packaged syringe before following Lyall back to the car. He pulled out fast and started down the road. A group of cop cars passed them moments later, sirens wailing. The sound was assaulting to Rowan, hyper aware now of why it was now so intrusive.

She glanced down at her arm where the stitched up wound was. It no longer looked like it happened just a few hours before, but rather a few days. She swallowed down her discomfort, the vial twisting in her fingers.

“What’s that?” Lyall asked, filling the quiet between them.

Rowan looked up at him, breaking away from her thoughts, then back at the tube she played with. “An antivirus. A real one this time.”

“What else did he say to you?” It was an innocent enough question, but Rowan felt unsure if she wanted to tell him.

What if Phelps had been wrong? Her symptoms perhaps only a coincidence. After all, she had Miller’s injection in her blood at the time… Maybe that protected her. Maybe, she just didn’t want to accept it yet. Or couldn’t.

Instead of answering his question, Rowan shook her head, dismissing it as nothing, sliding the antivirus and the syringe into her jeans pocket. Lucky for her, he didn’t press the matter, instead giving her a few extra minutes to gather her thoughts. She wasn’t sure if his silence was a gift or a curse, since she didn’t want to answer his question, but she also didn’t want to be in her head. It was full of death and blood and darkness.

After a lengthy silence, minutes of just driving down empty roads through the darkness of the night, Lyall spoke again. “What should we do about Miller?”

She let the question sit for too long. When she did reply, her words weren’t helpful. “I have no idea.”

“We need to figure something out. I don’t really have time,” he said cautiously, like trying to get her to realize something while still being a delicate as possible.

Despite his attempts, his implication stung, and Rowan swallowed down a sob. “Can we maybe not talk about the fact that by morning you might be dead, too?”

She could save him, right now if she wanted, but it would mean accepting it, and she couldn’t. Not yet. She just needed a little more time. Time that none of them had, unfortunately.

Lyall did as he was told, not saying a word, leaving Rowan to her destructive thoughts.

She’d kill Miller. It was decided. That woman had taken everything from her. She was the reason Lyall was dying, the reason Rowan’s career was ruined, her life stolen from her. Miller murdered her best friend, her mentor, was killing Lyall, and now Rowan might also be…

If she had to bury her loved ones, then she would bury Miller also.

“Will the antivirus work on her?” Lyall asked, pulling Rowan away from the darkness in her head again.

She stared, then nodded. “It should.”

“Then we’ll do that. We’ll use the antivirus on Miller. No one else has to die.”

Rowan didn’t reply, gnawing at her lip. He didn’t know that the antivirus was made for her. Of course he assumed it was their answer for Miller. Of course his new, self-controlled attitude was searching for the most non-violent way, trying to prevent any more bloodshed. Rowan would have felt that way also, if she didn’t have a monster growling in her chest for red. She didn’t care if there was more carnage, as long as she was the one making it.

“Yeah. We’ll use the antivirus on Miller.” She agreed, nodding before opening the window and letting the air hit her face again. The numbness she felt over everything that had happened made it easy to lie to him while looking him right in the eye.