I stood there for a long mont, listening to the sound of their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to our vehicle. Soon, the only sounds in the arena were the quiet trickle of lted ice and Cindy’s increasingly labored breathing.
She was looking at with an expression I couldn’t quite read—gratitude mixed with fear, understanding mixed with sadness, acceptance mixed with sothing that might have been anticipation.
"So," she said quietly, her voice still carrying traces of her usual gentle humor despite everything. "This is really happening, isn’t it?"
I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. My fists clenched so tightly that my knuckles went white, and I kept my face turned toward the lted ice formations scattered across the arena floor. Anywhere but at her. Anywhere but at the dark veins spreading along her neck like poison roots.
"Ryan." Her voice was softer now.
I stayed silent, watching droplets of lted ice fall from the overhead fixtures with the steady rhythm of a funeral march.
"Ryan, please look at ."
Still nothing. I couldn’t. If I looked at her—if I saw the pain in her eyes, the fear she was trying so hard to hide behind that brave smile—I might completely fall apart.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally managed to speak.
"I’m sorry."
"This isn’t your fault—"
"This is my fucking fault!" The words exploded out of with enough force that they echoed off the arena walls. I spun to face her then, and imdiately regretted it. She looked so small sitting there against the wall, so fragile despite her attempts to maintain composure. "If I hadn’t brought that alien device back to our house, if I’d stopped you from coming here, if I’d just..." My voice cracked, and I had to pause to regain control. "You wouldn’t be infected. You’d be safe."
Cindy’s expression remained calm despite my outburst, her blue eyes steady and understanding. "I chose to co here, Ryan. . Christopher didn’t force , you didn’t drag kicking and screaming. I made the decision to fight alongside all of you because I believed it was the right thing to do."
"You shouldn’t have had to make that choice," I said, my voice hollow with self-recrimination. "None of you should. I should have just disappeared after New York. Should have taken the virus and the danger that follows and vanished into the wasteland where I couldn’t hurt anyone else."
I had already decided to leave. The thought had been planted in from the very mont I realized just how dangerous my presence was for everyone else. Every day I stayed, I felt like a blade dangling over their heads, and sooner or later, it would fall.
But walking away wasn’t sothing I could do right away. Before leaving, there was sothing I had to finish—sothing I owed them. Rachel and Elena. I had started their stabilization, given them hope and strength they wouldn’t have had otherwise. Abandoning them halfway felt like betrayal, like leaving a bridge unfinished right when they were standing in the middle of it.
So I told myself I’d stay just long enough to complete it. After that... my plan was simple. I would slip away one night, when the house was quiet, when no one was watching, and vanish before dawn broke.
But things rarely go according to plan. I hadn’t finished stabilizing them and now Cindy...
"And then what?" Cindy asked, tilting her head slightly. "You think the alien invasion would have just stopped because you weren’t around to complicate things? You think those Fire Spitters and Frost Walkers would have decided to take a vacation?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but she continued before I could speak.
"That device you retrieved—it’s not just so random artifact, is it? It’s a weapon, or a tool, or sothing that can help us understand what we’re really facing. You said yourself that this invasion has barely begun. The infected virus was just the opening move. Without that device, without the stones, without whatever knowledge it contains, we’d all be sitting ducks when the real assault begins."
The logic in her words was undeniable, but logic felt cold and insufficient against the weight of my guilt. "Maybe. But that doesn’t an I had to drag all of you into it. I could have handled this alone."
"Ryan, you’re being ridiculous." Her voice carried a note of gentle exasperation, the sa tone she might use with Christopher when he was being particularly stubborn about sothing.
I didn’t reply.
She breathed out a tired breath. "Co sit beside . You’re too far away for a proper conversation, and frankly, you look like you’re about to collapse."
I glanced at where she was sitting—on a section of arena floor where the ice had lted away, leaving cold but dry concrete. She patted the spot next to her invitingly, and despite everything, I found myself moving toward her.
I sat down, but left several feet of space between us. Even that small distance felt simultaneously too close and not close enough. Close enough that I could see the details of how the infection was progressing—the darkening veins, the slight pallor of her skin, the way her breathing had beco more labored. But not close enough to offer any real comfort.
The cold from the concrete seeped through my protective suit within seconds, a bone-deep chill that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the situation we found ourselves in.
"Can you tell more about your abilities?" Cindy asked, her voice carefully casual as she stared out across the transford arena. "About the Dullahan virus, I an. I feel like I should understand what’s about to happen to ."
I took a shaky breath, grateful for the distraction of technical details. "I was infected as a baby, but the virus stayed dormant until the outbreak in New York. When I got bitten by one of the infected, instead of turning , it awakened sothing that had been sleeping in my system for years."
"How did you discover it could save people through..." She paused. "Through intimate contact?"
"There was a girl in my class...Emily. We got cornered by infected on the first day, both of us were bitten. We thought we were going to die, so we..." I trailed off, the words catching in my throat.
"You were intimate," Cindy finished gently, sparing from having to say it directly.
I nodded. "The next morning, we were both fine. More than fine—stronger, faster, enhanced in ways that normal humans aren’t. That’s when I realized the Dullahan virus could overpower and replace the infection virus. Since then, I’ve awakened other powers," I admitted slowly. "Like... stopping ti for ten seconds, or using my right arm as a kind of wind weapon."
"Stopping ti..." Cindy repeated under her breath, her eyes widening for just a mont. The surprise was there, but it flickered faintly—she was too drained, both emotionally and physically, to muster the reaction such a revelation deserved.
Then a thought hit , sharp and rciless, and I flinched. My hands curled into fists before I could stop them. "If... if I had stopped ti earlier, before that Infected could reach you—before it pushed you down—maybe I could have—"
"Ryan." Cindy looked at , her expression calm but shadowed by exhaustion. "You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have known I’d be shoved so easily by an Infected." She gave a faint, weary smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Besides... you were pretty far from . Even with ten seconds, you would’ve barely made it in ti."
Her gaze lingered on for a mont before softening further. "That power... did you use it against that monster?"
I swallowed and gave a small nod, resting my arms heavily on my knees.
"I saved it until the end," I said quietly. "I knew it was the only way... the only chance I had to kill it. Catching it off guard was the only option."
Cindy was quiet for a mont, processing this information. When she spoke again, there was a note of sothing that might have been amusent in her voice.
"Christopher and I used to joke that you were so kind of mutant superhero who’d stepped out of a comic book. Turns out we weren’t that far off."
Despite everything, I felt my mouth twitch in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "I’m not a hero, Cindy. Heroes don’t put the people they care about in danger. Heroes don’t have to violate their friends’ trust to save lives."
"You saved Emily. You saved Rachel and Elena. If that’s not heroic, I don’t know what is." She paused, then added with a slight smile, "Even if the thod is a bit unconventional."
I buried my face in my hands, feeling heat rise in my cheeks despite the cold. "W...when you put it like that, it sounds so..."
"Perverted?" Cindy suggested, and I could hear the gentle teasing in her voice. "I won’t lie, it’s definitely not the most conventional superpower in the world. But considering the alternatives..." She gestured at the dark veins visible on her arm. "I think I can live with a little unconventional."
The casual way she said it—as if we were discussing sothing mundane instead of the most intimate violation imaginable—made my chest tighten with a mixture of gratitude and guilt that was almost overwhelming.
A mont of silence fell between us, broken only by the steady drip of lting ice and the distant sounds of our friends driving away. The weight of what we were about to do hung in the air like a physical presence, unavoidable and terrifying.
"I keep thinking," I said quietly, "about what I could have done differently. If I’d used the ti freeze ability earlier, if I’d positioned myself better during the fight, if I’d been faster or stronger or smarter..."
"You couldn’t have known that infected would break through us," Cindy said. "And you were busy fighting a monster worthy of an Avengers movie that could kill you with a touch. You can’t bla yourself for not being omniscient."
"But if I’d just—"
"Ryan..." She stopped .
I looked at her.
"I don’t bla you at all, the only thing I was a bit upset is you have hidden us your super power, that’s all," she said.
"How...how are you being so calm about this?" I asked. "How are you not terrified?"
Cindy considered the question for a mont, her gaze distant as she watched steam rise from the lting ice formations.
"I am terrified," she said finally. "I’m scared of dying, scared of transforming into one of those things, scared of what this is going to do to Christopher but.... all fear does is make everything harder."
She turned to look at directly, her blue eyes clear despite the viral contamination spreading through her system.
"So instead of being afraid, I’m choosing to be grateful. Grateful that there’s a solution..."
I turned away and clenched my fists.
"He really loves you," I said quietly but painfully rembering all his talks he pestered about Cindy.
"I know." Her smile was soft but tinged with sadness. "And I love him...but I am...glad that we didn’t go too far."
I didn’t know what to respond to that.
I knew what she ant by that.
"I should have found another way," I said for what felt like the hundredth ti.
"There is no other way in the small ti I have left..."
She reached out then, her fingers finding mine in the space between us. Her skin was cold—too cold—but her grip was gentle.
"I trust you," she said simply. "I...I trust you to be gentle, to be careful, to save my life without destroying my soul. Can you do that for ?"
I squeezed her hand, gritting my trembling teeth.
"I promise."
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