Issue #6 “The Truth Beneath the Skin”

Chapter 6 — What They Left Behind

---

The lab smelled faintly of antiseptic and dust. The overhead lights flickered weakly, and half the room was cloaked in shadow. Desks were overturned, papers scattered across the floor. A broken microscope lay in pieces beneath a table, as if someone had tried to barricade themselves inside and failed.

“They’ve been here,” Harper muttered.

“No bodies,” Ethan said. “That’s… not better.”

“We need to move fast,” Renee said, clutching her satchel tightly. “Help me find the equipment. I need a centrifuge, glass slides, anything we can salvage.”

“I’ll cover the door,” Harper said, gripping the broken broom handle he’d been using as a makeshift spear. Ethan gave him a look — one that questioned how much good a wooden pole would do — but said nothing.

Renee moved to the shelves, pulling down supplies in quick, precise motions. Harper positioned himself near the doorway, listening to the pounding still rattling the chain-link fence outside. He knew the things out there wouldn’t stop. Not until they got inside.

“Found it,” Renee said from across the room. She set up a microscope on a table near the window, feeding it power from an emergency generator tucked beneath the counter. The flickering light above dimmed for a second as the equipment hummed to life.

“Alright,” she muttered, focusing the lens. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

Harper turned back to the door, muscles tight. The pounding had grown softer — slower. That worried him more than the noise itself.

“They’re getting smarter,” Ethan muttered.

“What makes you say that?” Harper asked.

“They’re testing the fence,” Ethan said grimly. “Watch. They hit the same spot over and over… like they’re learning where it’s weakest.”

Harper clenched his teeth. “We need to hurry.”

“I’m trying,” Renee snapped from the microscope.

“What are you even looking for?” Ethan asked. “You think you’re gonna spot a cure through that thing?”

“I’m looking for what’s inside this,” Renee said, holding up the vial of infected blood. “If I know what we’re dealing with, I can figure out how fast it spreads — what triggers it.”

“Trigger?” Harper repeated. “You think this thing can be activated?”

“I know it can,” Renee said grimly. “Look.”

Harper crossed the room as Renee adjusted the microscope’s focus. She tapped the glass slide, pointing to the dark, oily mass under the lens.

“It’s not just blood,” Renee explained. “It’s something else. These cells… they’re mutated — changing as they break down.” She turned the focus knob again, zooming in further. “It’s like they’re… hunting healthy cells.”

“Hunting?” Harper muttered.

“Consuming them,” Renee said. “They don’t just infect — they destroy. The infected cells wrap around healthy ones and break them down in seconds.” She tapped the slide again. “But look here — see that?”

Harper squinted. Within the dark tendrils of infection, something else twisted — sharp, jagged filaments, like black barbs burrowing through the bloodstream.

“Those filaments,” Renee said. “They’re growing.”

“Like… spreading roots?” Harper asked.

“Exactly,” Renee said. “They latch on to nerves, muscle fibers… even brain tissue.”

“That’s why they move the way they do,” Ethan said. “Like puppets.”

“That’s why they don’t stop,” Renee muttered.

Harper felt cold. “If it’s this aggressive… how long before it spreads outside of Lakeshore?”

“It’s already started,” Renee said. “If there’s even one infected person on the road heading out of town… it’s over.”

“Jesus,” Ethan muttered. He dragged his hand down his face. “So what now?”

Renee tapped the glass slide again. “This mutation — it’s not random. It’s too precise. Someone built this.”

“Built?” Harper’s chest tightened. “You’re saying this was designed?”

“Yes,” Renee said. “Engineered to survive — to spread faster than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re telling me someone made… this?” Ethan barked. “What the hell kind of person would do that?”

Renee’s face hardened. “A weapon,” she said quietly. “Something designed to wipe out everything in its path — fast and without warning.”

“Well,” Ethan muttered, gripping his knife, “it’s working.”

Harper moved back to the window. The fog had thickened, curling through the streets like smoke. He could barely make out the shapes moving behind the fence — but they were still there. Dozens of them now. Silent. Waiting.

“We can’t stay here,” Harper said. “They’ll find a way in.”

“Agreed,” Renee said. “But we can’t just run blind. We need to find someone — military, CDC… someone who can contain this before it spreads.”

“I doubt there’s anyone left,” Ethan muttered.

“There’s a Ranger Station about six miles north,” Harper said. “It’s isolated, and they’ve got radios that could reach the state patrol.”

“Six miles,” Ethan repeated. “Through that?” He gestured toward the fog outside. “You’re talking suicide.”

“It’s our best shot,” Harper said. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Ethan muttered something under his breath, then shook his head. “Fine,” he growled. “But we move quiet. No noise, no lights.”

Renee gathered her samples, carefully sealing the blood vials in her satchel. Harper grabbed a heavy wrench from the table — something better than a broken broom handle. Ethan checked his knife, adjusting it in his belt.

“Ready?” Harper asked.

“Not even a little,” Ethan muttered.

They moved to the back door, cracking it open just enough to scan the alley outside. The fog was thicker now, swallowing everything more than ten feet away.

“We stick together,” Harper whispered. “No one falls behind.”

They stepped out into the cold, each breath clouding the air. The street was empty — no movement, no sound except the faint wind curling through the trees.

They moved fast, weaving between cars and hugging the walls. The fog swallowed the town, turning the streets into a maze of shadow and grey. Harper counted the steps in his head — twenty, thirty, forty — each one stretching longer than the last.

Then came the sound.

A low, guttural growl.

Renee froze. “They’re close,” she whispered.

“Move,” Harper urged. “Now.”

The shadows shifted behind them — figures emerging from the fog, their twisted faces slack and empty. One let out a sharp, unnatural cry.

“Run!” Ethan barked.

They sprinted down the alley, boots thudding against pavement. The shapes moved faster, closing in from both sides. Harper gripped his wrench tightly, hearing their ragged breath growing louder.

“There!” Renee cried, pointing to a side street.

They turned the corner — and froze.

More of them. Staggering, snarling… waiting.

They were surrounded.

“Back the other way!” Harper barked.

Too late. Figures emerged from the fog behind them, cutting off the alley’s only exit. The creatures closed in, their glassy eyes locking on their prey.

“Up there!” Renee pointed to a fire escape.

“Go!” Harper shouted.

Renee grabbed the ladder and climbed fast, her satchel thumping against her side. Harper shoved Ethan up behind her, then scrambled up himself just as cold fingers grasped at his boot.

“Come on!” Ethan barked from above.

Harper kicked hard, driving his boot into the creature’s face. It stumbled back, snarling. Harper pulled himself over the railing and into the safety of the rooftop.

“Now what?” Ethan muttered, chest heaving.

“We keep moving,” Harper said grimly. “Because if this thing doesn’t stop… neither can we.”

In the fog below, the creatures circled the base of the building — their blank eyes locked upward, waiting for the moment their prey would slip.

To Be Continued…