Abigail shuddered. I noticed the gooseflesh rising on her skin. The knock at the door had been so disturbing that neither of us dared breathe for several seconds. Who could it be?
She moved toward the window and looked outside. There was nothing but darkness. Maybe it had all been a product of our imagination. Maybe the wind had whispered a name, and we'd mistaken it for a voice.
But Abigail didn't seem to believe that.
A whisper escaped her lips, so faint I could barely hear it.
—Tommy.
Seeing her frozen, unsure of what to do, I gathered my courage and shouted:
—Who the hell are you?
I shouted so loudly that Abigail snapped out of her trance. She looked around as if she didn't recognize the place where she was, as if she'd just remembered what kind of being might be waiting on the other side of the makeshift door.
I shouted again, but no one answered.
—Who are you?
The silence grew heavy. The seconds began to stretch until they seemed endless.
—Whatever it was, it's probably gone by now—I told her. —I don't know how this world works. There are so many strange things that I don't understand what's happening anymore. Maybe the ghosts of the dead can say goodbye before they move on.
Abigail nodded, though her smile did nothing to hide her fear.
—I don't think that's the case. But if it is, I'd be the last person Tommy would say goodbye to.
—Abigail.
She cried out his name as if it were a desperate wail. Then she turned back toward the door, grabbed her rifle, and ordered me to gather all her things.
—Whatever happens, don't stop running—she said. —Find somewhere we can take shelter.
We backed away without taking our eyes off the entrance. Then we heard a loud crack.
This time, it came from the bedrooms.
We froze. Both exits seemed to be blocked. Abigail decided we had to approach the rooms and find out what was hiding there, if anything was hiding there at all.
We went inside.
The moonlight, which should have passed through the broken windows, was blocked. Only a few reflections managed to filter through the shadows. Something was moving outside, completely blocking the light.
I ran to the other room.
It was the same.
Abigail understood immediately.
—It followed me—she said. —It followed me all this time.
She looked at me with concern. I must have had a stupid expression on my face, a mixture of fear and confusion. Abigail moved to the center of the room and pressed the rifle against her chest.
—It's a gelatinous creature, like a huge living mass. It attacked my group when we were coming here. You don't notice it because it can turn liquid. By the time you realize what's happening, it's already beneath your feet. It wraps around you and tears you apart.
She swallowed.
—You can't defend yourself against it. Gunshots don't do anything. We'd been told that beast devours people and uses their recent memories, even their voices, to lure in more prey. It can follow you for days.
As she said it, Abigail collapsed. We were trapped, and the house was completely surrounded.
I looked out the front window again. The mass moved around the cabin, slow and patient, as if it knew that sooner or later we'd run out of options.
—What can we do?—I asked.
Abigail didn't answer. She remained motionless, staring into the darkness.
—How do you fight something even Tommy couldn't defeat?—she murmured.
—I'm not willing to die because of a giant ball of snot.
I kicked everything in my path. I threw the cushions we'd used to make ourselves comfortable beside the fire. The embers fell to the floor, and some of them kept glowing. I watched them for a moment. Then I kicked one with all my strength and sent it flying out the window.
The ember struck the mass and went out.
But it took a while to extinguish.
—That's it!—I shouted.
Suddenly, I felt the fear pull back just enough to let me think.
—I know how to get out of here.
I gathered the embers that were still burning and began feeding them wood and old clothes. I tried to make the flames grow. Abigail watched me, confused.
—Do the same!—I ordered.
She didn't move.
I kept throwing things into the fire until the flames grew. I picked up a burning piece of mattress, carried it into one of the rooms, and threw it onto the bed. The mattress caught fire within seconds.
Then I grabbed some sheets, set them alight, and threw them onto the bed in the other room. The fire spread quickly.
I returned to Abigail.
—Stand up.
She looked up as if a memory had just crossed her mind. I offered her my hand and helped her to her feet.
—What are you planning?—she asked.
—That huge mass is basically water. If we make a fire big enough, it'll start burning away. Maybe it'll shrink. Maybe it'll run. We have to set the house on fire.
Abigail stared blankly. For several seconds, she didn't know what to think.
Then she nodded.
—That's a brilliant idea.
We started burning everything. We covered our heads with wet rags while smoke filled the house and forced us to keep our eyes half-closed.
A hiss sounded outside, like meat sizzling against hot coals.
The beast shrieked.
It didn't retreat easily. Its body slammed against the walls and slid across the roof, trying to find an entrance. I threw burning objects toward the windows. Every time a flame touched the mass, it twisted and shrieked again.
It was a good sign.
—What now?—Abigail asked. —How do we escape?
I stared at her.
—Tell me you didn't start a fire without knowing how to get out.
I stayed silent, pretending to think about the next part of the plan.
—I didn't think that far ahead—I admitted.
The fire grew wilder and wilder. The creature retreated. Its body began to evaporate and shrink. Soon it would no longer be such a serious threat.
But we were still trapped between the flames and the mass.
Abigail looked toward the window.
—I'll go out that way. I'll distract it so you can escape.
She was about to jump when I remembered something I'd seen when I arrived at the cabin.
—Don't jump.
I stopped her and led her toward the kitchen. I remembered that part of the house had burned before. There was no wood left there to feed the fire, only concrete beneath what had once been a floor and wooden walls.
We took shelter on the kitchen floor, almost lying down. The smoke was intense, but I remembered that it tended to rise, so I kept my face as close to the floor as possible.
Through the small window, I saw that the mass was beginning to give up. It now occupied only a quarter of the size it had been at the beginning.
—Abigail, we have to get out. Look, it's leaving. We beat it.
She stared at me in surprise.
Not because we'd defeated the creature. Maybe it had occurred to her too to burn it.
What surprised her was my reaction.
The way that, even terrified, I'd begun thinking about how to survive.
We ran out through the front window and got several hundred yards away without looking back.
—Tommy is dead. I don't know if the others who went out with me are still alive. I only know that if they are, they went back to the fortress. That was the plan. I hope Sofía didn't have any trouble. I hope she saved some sugar for my coffee.
Abigail talked to herself and laughed sadly. I moved closer and tried to calm her down.
—I'm sure the others made it back safely. And that girl, Sofía, probably saved you some sugar. Maybe enough for two coffees.
Then I remembered the pastries I'd found the night I arrived. I was still carrying one. I hadn't had time to eat it because Abigail had offered me what little she had.
—Here— I said. —To celebrate our victory and the pleasure of meeting you.
I held out the least-crushed pastry. Abigail stared at it. Then she covered her mouth and burst out laughing, a laugh so unexpected that for a moment she seemed to forget her fear.
—Where did you get this?—she asked, her eyes wide.
—From a machine I found while I was looking for shelter.
She took it eagerly and opened the wrapper. It smelled delicious. She devoured it immediately. Then she smiled and, nearly choking, said with her mouth full:
—Sofía would love this.
—She's lucky. I still have another one.
I held out my hand and offered her the second pastry.
—Keep it in your backpack. It'll make a nice gift.
Abigail took it excitedly and put it away carefully. That pastry, even though it was crushed, seemed to have become something unique to her. Maybe it was the best thing she'd have in a long time.
—Thank you—she said. —Now we have to survive the night.
We kept walking under the moonlight. It wasn't the wisest thing to do, but after defeating that ball of snot, Abigail seemed convinced we could beat anything that crossed our path.
We moved forward cautiously, keeping to the cover of the trees and stopping from time to time to listen. In the distance, I saw red and blue lights streaking across the sky.
—They're so beautiful. I'd seen them before.
I stopped.
—Those other ones are yellow flares…
Abigail stopped smiling.
—If they're flares—she whispered.
She watched them for several seconds. Then she hugged the rifle to her chest and yanked my arm, forcing me to crouch down.
—What's happening?—I asked.
—They're flares. Someone is launching them from the fortress.
A blue light rose above the trees. Then another appeared, red and much closer.
Abigail went pale.
—The flare means they've found survivors—she said. —The red and blue lights mean the fortress is under attack.
I looked toward the glow. The night sky lit up for an instant, beautiful and terrible at the same time.
—Then Sofía…
—We have to go back.
—To the fortress? I thought you just said it was under attack.
Abigail stood up and adjusted the strap of her backpack.
—That's exactly why.
She took off running through the trees. I followed her, still tasting fear in my mouth, with the image of that pastry saved for Sofía growing in my mind.
This time, we weren't running away from something.
We were running toward the others.
And as I ran, I felt the urge to protect her, to make sure that pastry reached its destination.