Apocalypse: The Dead Lives
Chapter 50: Sick

Chapter 50: Sick

Watkins Glen appeared through the thick treeline. For days, I had dreamt of returning, of feeling safe again.

But as we crossed the road leading to the entrance, my stomach twisted.

This wasn’t my home. And it never would be.

The guards at the entrance stiffened, their weapons shifting slightly as they recognized Ronan and me. Then, as if snapping out of their training, they hurried forward.

"Open the gates!" one of them barked, and the thick steel doors groaned as they slid apart.

Before I could take another step, I was wrapped in a crushing embrace.

"Hailey," Ellie whispered, her voice trembling. I barely had time to breathe before Cooper pulled me into his arms next, holding me just as tightly.

"You’re back," he murmured into my hair, his voice thick with relief. "God, we thought—" He pulled away, eyes flicking to Ronan. "You made it."

I turned just in time to see Cooper wrapping an arm around Ronan’s shoulder with an almost proud expression on his face. "My brother, the man, the myth, the legend. Ronan King. Has Ronan told you that we went to war and won because of him?"

Ronan merely grunted, his fingers brushing against mine for a fleeting moment before pulling away.

A presence loomed behind us.

Marco.

The moment he stepped past the gates, the air shifted. The relaxed stance of the guards disappeared. Their hands flexed around their weapons, their gazes wary. He was the enemy not too long ago. And Watkins Glen did not forgive easily.

Then, a voice cut through the tension.

"Marco?"

Kiara stepped forward, her dark hair tied in a loose bun, her sharp features softening as she took a hesitant step toward him.

Marco stiffened. His face turned unreadable, his body tense like he was waiting for a blow that had yet to land.

"Kie." His voice was cold, detached.

Right. She’s his sister.

Her eyes filled with emotion as she reached for him, but he took a step back, his expression hardening.

"You left me," he said, the words heavy, bitter. "You got married. You ran. And you left me to deal with dad, alone."

Kiara flinched, guilt flickering in her gaze. "Marco, I-"

"I don’t want to hear it." His voice was a blade cutting through her excuses before they could form.

Kiara’s face crumpled slightly, but she nodded, stepping back. Whatever words she had prepared, she swallowed them down.

I pressed my lips together, watching the scene unfold but not stepping in. Some wounds ran too deep to be healed in a single moment.

Then, another presence emerged from the depths of the compound.

Michael.

My dad.

The last time I saw him, Marco had him hung on the city gates. He created the virus that ended the world. That nearly ended me.

I expected a rush of relief at seeing him still alive and healthly. Instead, all I felt for him was anger.

His gaze met mine, cautious, unreadable.

He didn’t smile. And neither did I.

"This way," he said simply, turning toward the entrance of the underground lab.

I followed without a word.

Ronan and the others hesitated but, after a moment, let me go. Down a dark tunnel we traveled. Deep underground.

The lab had a modern look to it. Neat and organized. Inside the room was buzzing with people, working furiously over microscopes, computers, and samples I didn’t dare look at too closely.

Despite everything, he still wanted to fix this.

The weight of it settled on my chest as I turned to him. "Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Michael exhaled, running a hand through his graying hair. "Because I have to. I may not be able to undo what I did, but I can still try to make it right."

A humorless chuckle escaped me. "You think you can fix this?" I gestured vaguely at the ruined world above our heads. "Undo the apocalypse you started?"

He didn’t flinch. "I have to try."

I shook my head, pressing my fingers to my temple. There were too many emotions warring inside me, anger, grief, confusion. But there was something else, too. Something I didn’t want to admit.

Relief.

He was still here. Still breathing. And despite everything, some part of me still cared.

I sucked in a deep breath. "Tell me the truth," I demanded. "All of it."

Michael’s gaze moved to the closed lab doors, then back to me. He exhaled sharply. "You’re immune," he said. "And there’s a reason for that."

I frowned.

"I used to experiment on you when you were a child."

His fingers twitched, a nauseating feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

"What?"

And then he said it.

"I used your DNA to create the Necrovive serum."

My blood ran cold.

My mind struggled to process the words, but he kept going. "Before it became the NecroVirus, the serum was designed to heal, to regenerate cells. But something went wrong."

I took a step back, my chest tightening. "So you’re saying... the rotters- they react to me differently because my DNA is in the virus?"

Michael hesitated, then nodded.

My breath shuddered.

That’s why they hesitated around me. Why some of them didn’t attack right away.

I wasn’t just immune. I was part of this.

A shaky laugh escaped me, hollow and sharp. "God, do you hear yourself? Do you even understand what you’ve done?"

"I understand it all too well," he said, his voice quiet. "Which is why you have to keep this a secret. If other scientists- if other factions find out what you are, they will hunt you down. They will tear you apart.

I clenched my fists.

"You used me," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Michael swallowed, but he didn’t deny it.

I felt sick.

He had turned me into something else, something I never asked to be.

But no matter how much I hated him for it, a terrible thought curled in the back of my mind.

Oliver. How could I forget?

"What about, Oli? Did you do this to him too? Did you experiment on him?" I asked and my dad seemed hesitant at first then slowly nodded.

"Yes. Oliver is also immune to the NecroVirus. But he’s not like you, his DNA is not in the virus. He’s immune because the virus was inside of him before it even became a virus. It’s always been part of him."

"I hate you, Michael. With my whole being! I hate you more than I have ever thought I could hate somebody! If you died instead of mom- none of this would’ve happened!" I yelled into his face.

He nodded in agreement. "I know."

I silently glared at him for a while, getting my thoughts in order.

If he was right, if people found out-

They would never stop hunting me. They would never stop hunting, Oli.

I inhaled sharply, forcing the nausea back down. My pulse pounded in my ears, but I kept my face blank.

"Does Ronan know?" I asked.

Michael shook his head. "And for your sake, he shouldn’t."

I turned toward the lab door, my hands shaking at my sides.

I needed air.

I needed to get away from this- person.

But as I stepped toward the exit, Michael called after me.

"Hailey."

I stopped but didn’t turn around.

His voice softened. "No matter what you think of me, I’m still your father. And I’m still trying to protect you."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Then, without another word, I left.

The night air was cold, crisp. It bit at my skin as I stepped out into the open.

I expected to feel lighter, to breathe easier.

I didn’t.

Ronan was waiting for me.

The moment he saw my face, his eyes darkened. "What did he say?"

I hesitated. My throat felt tight.

I couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell anyone...

Not yet.

"Nothing important," I lied.