The Last Message

Chapter 7:

The Only Escape The marsh was filled with strange noises. Breaking branches. Quiet voices. The faint sound of a radio. Mira pressed against the cabin wall, feeling the vial burning in her pocket. Daniel was at the window, pulling back the curtain just enough to see flashlights cutting through the early morning fog. "Three of them," he whispered. "Sheriff’s deputies." Mira felt her throat tighten. "How did they find us?" Daniel clenched his jaw. "It doesn’t matter. We have to go." He grabbed his bag, stuffing in the cassette and documents, then gestured to the back door. "There’s a path through the reeds. It leads to an old boathouse." "And then what?" Daniel looked into her eyes. "Then we run for our lives." The Marsh The ground clung to their boots, the smell of decaying plants heavy in the air. Mira followed Daniel’s shape, her breathing quick and sharp. Every rustle of grass, every far-off shout made her heart race. Then— A shout behind them. "There!" Daniel swore. "Run!" They took off.

Mira's legs ached as she pushed through the reeds, the vial hitting her thigh. A gunshot echoed nearby. Daniel pulled her down just as a spotlight scanned the marsh. 'Stay low,' he whispered. The light moved on. They crawled ahead, mud soaking Mira's jeans. The boathouse appeared, its roof drooping, the dock half-submerged in dark water. Inside, the air was heavy with mildew and diesel. Daniel uncovered a small skiff. 'Get in,' he commanded. Mira complied. The engine quietly started as Daniel steered the boat into the narrow channels. For a moment, Mira felt hopeful. Then the radio on Daniel's belt crackled. 'All units, head to the southern channel. Block them.' Daniel's grip tightened on the throttle. 'They've blocked the waterways.' Mira turned to him. 'Then we can go around.' 'There is no around.' She glanced at the dark, slow water and then at the vial in her pocket. Lina's last evidence. Mira made up her mind. 'Then we go through.' Daniel looked at the water. 'No. That's a death wish. 'This is the only way to keep them from following.

Chapter 8:

The Memories of Water

The dark water adhered to her skin.

It was not merely cold; it felt sentient, gliding over Mira’s body like oil, infiltrating her pores. As she attempted to scream, the water surged into her mouth, thick as syrup, searing her throat.

This is the moment of my demise, she contemplated.

Then her lungs filled with air.

The Transformation

Mira erupted from the depths, gasping for breath—but the atmosphere was no longer familiar. It overwhelmed her senses, a cacophony of aromas and signals inundating her nervous system.

Salt. Decay. Blood.

Daniel emerged beside her, his pupils dilated, his skin glistening with an unusual, iridescent glow. "What the hell—?"

His voice sounded altered. Deeper. Rougher.

Mira glanced at her hands. The veins were starkly visible, black against her skin, pulsing in rhythm with the tide.

The water had transformed them.

The Initial Hunt

They pulled themselves onto the distant shore, their movements feeling unnatural—too fluid, too conscious.

Mira’s teeth throbbed. As she ran her tongue over them, she discovered new, sharp points, akin to needles.

Daniel bent over, heaving. What emerged was not water.

It was black tendrils, writhing on the sand before disintegrating.

Then the insatiable hunger struck.

It was not merely a growl from her stomach; it was a directive that resonated within every cell of her being.

Feed.

Mira's attention was abruptly drawn upward. Across the marsh, a deputy was navigating through the reeds, his flashlight illuminating the water's surface.

She could detect his presence—sweat, gunpowder, and the metallic scent of his blood.

Daniel seized her arm. "Do not."

Yet, his grip was unsteady, his entire form quaking.

The deputy shifted in response to the noise.

Their gazes locked.

His scream was short-lived.

The Truth in the Blood

The act of feeding brought forth a torrent of memories.

Vivid images, etched into the deputy's very cells:

Lina, fighting against their efforts to force her onto the boat.

The syringe, filled with a dark substance.

Her body striking the water—yet it did not submerge.

Mira pulled away, retching. "She is still alive."

Daniel's expression was one of sheer terror. "Not any longer."

For the final memory was the most harrowing:

Lina, dragging herself onto the rocks, her skin already beginning to transform.

Then came the gunshot.