We left the horde of undead behind us, swallowed by the storm and darkness. Nobody said a word. The only sounds were the steady swish of the wipers, the drumming of rain on the roof, and the low hum of the engine.
Uncle Matthew drove in silence, his knuckles white on the wheel. Ava and I could feel the quiet tension between him and my father. My mother still had her arms wrapped tightly around me, as if she were afraid I might disappear. The car smelled of wet leather, sweat, and blood thick, metallic, and sour. It clung to my clothes, my skin, my throat.
I looked down at myself. My clothes were soaked and stained; my hands still slick with someone else's blood. The smell made me sick, but there was nothing we could do about it now.
Outside, the world was pitch-black. Even my sharpened sight couldn't pierce beyond the headlights, just darkness swallowing the highway.
We were on I-16, heading south, away from Macon. Away from that house.
I leaned my head against the window, watching the blur of rain streaking past. My mind replayed everything: the fight, the gunfire, Henry's face. My stomach turned again, but this time, I managed to hold it down.
Then I noticed something. The pain in my leg, the one that had been nearly useless a few hours ago, was gone. Completely gone. I flexed it, pressing my heel into the floorboard. Nothing. No ache, no strain.
Ava had said the injury would take weeks to heal. It hadn't even been a full day.
Sometimes I forget that I'm inside Agent 47's body—his strength, his vitality. It's almost superhuman. That man could heal from gunshot wounds in hours and keep going. He aged slower than anyone else; at sixty, he looked barely thirty.
I could feel it even now, my body changing further. My heartbeat was stronger, steadier. My breathing smoother. Every sense sharpening with every second. I could feel Matthew's tight grip on the wheel, hear my father's quiet grunts of pain. I could even sense my mother Heartbeat beside me, and faint movement far off the road.
It was strange—frightening, even—but I couldn't deny the relief that came with it.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I wasn't completely powerless.
Internally, I whispered a silent thank-you to the angel who had given me this body.
"John, do you need pain medication?" Ava's voice was soft, breaking the silence. "I brought some with me before we left." Even in the dim light, I could see the worry in her eyes. My father's face was still swollen and bruised from the beating he'd taken.
From the front seat, he turned slightly, his voice rough but steady. "No, Ava. I can handle this much pain. Let's save the painkillers for an emergency. Besides…" He glanced down at his trembling hands. "I think this pain is what I deserve—for what I did. So don't feel bad for me."
Ava opened her mouth to protest but, seeing the stubbornness in his eyes, sighed and let it go.
"You don't have to act tough," Matthew said quietly, eyes fixed on the rain-slicked road. "Just take one."
John stared at him for a moment but said nothing, turning his gaze back toward the windshield. For a while, the only sound was the steady rhythm of rain and the hum of tires against wet asphalt.
Then Matthew spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I... I'm sorry for what I said, brother."
My father didn't turn his head, didn't even glance at him. He just muttered, "Just shut up and drive before you hit someone."
Matthew smirked faintly, a hint of warmth breaking through the tension. "I may not agree with how you do things," he said, "but I know you'll always fight for us. You always have. Just like when you used to beat up anyone who bullied me."
John let out a short breath that was almost a laugh. "Are you trying to make me cry? Just keep your eyes on the road before you kill us all."
Despite everything, the exhaustion, the blood, the fear, I saw a small smile tug at Ava's lips. For the first time since the chaos, there was a flicker of peace inside that car. The brothers weren't arguing anymore; the air felt lighter. I couldn't help but smile too, feeling some of the weight finally ease off my chest.
"...Ava," John said after a moment, his tone turning worried, "can you check Max's leg? I'm afraid he might've strained it again after everything that happened."
Matthew turned slightly, concern in his eyes. "I've been thinking the same thing. He pushed that cabinet hard back there—it might've reopened the wound."
Ava quickly reached down and began to unwrap the bandage from my leg. But when she peeled it back, she froze. Her eyes widened.
"How... how is this possible?" she whispered.
"What happened?" both John and Matthew asked at once, alarm flashing in their voices.
"There's nothing to worry about," Ava said finally, her expression shifting from shock to relief. "I'm just... amazed. The wound's completely gone. Not even a scar."
John blinked in disbelief, and Matthew exhaled a shaky laugh. "Well, finally some good news. From the way the kid ran, I figured it must've healed."
Everyone seemed to relax at that. The tension in the car softened a little, replaced by cautious relief. Thankfully, no one suspected anything more.
After a while, silence returned, comforting this time, not heavy.
"Matthew," Ava said gently, still holding me close, "we should stop somewhere soon. It's not safe to keep driving in the dark."
"I agree with you, honey," he replied, eyes on the road. "But I don't see anywhere safe to pull over."
"I know this road well," my father said, glancing out the rain-streaked window. "About a mile ahead, there's a small motel. I used to stay there during business trips. It's not much, but it'll do for the night."
No one argued. We were all too tired—physically, mentally, emotionally.
A few minutes later, Matthew took the next exit. The car rolled into a small, cracked parking lot. The rain softened into a drizzle as we pulled up in front of a weathered sign that barely glowed in the dark: Haven Motel.
It wasn't big, just a narrow, two-story building with peeling paint and flickering lights—but right now, it looked like salvation.
Matthew parked near the entrance and killed the engine. The sudden silence rang in my ears, louder than any gunshot.
"Okay, we're here," my father said, scanning the dark outline of the motel through the windshield. "This place may not be safe, so Matthew and I will go ahead and check it out. Both of you stay in the car." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
He turned toward me. "Max, give your uncle the gun."
I nodded and handed the pistol over to Matthew. Ava hesitated, then passed her crowbar to John.
"I hope we don't have to use these," Matthew muttered, checking the weapon. "Gunfire will only attract more of them."
"I hope so too," my father replied. "I've only got three bullets left. What about you?"
Matthew ejected the magazine, studying it carefully before answering. "Eleven rounds." He paused, then pulled out four bullets and handed them to my father.
"Thanks," John said, slipping them into his pocket. Both men exchanged a brief, wordless nod—a silent understanding between brothers who'd already seen too much tonight.
They opened their doors, the sound of the rain rushing in for a brief moment.
"Stay here," my father said, his tone sharp. "No matter what you hear, don't come out until we tell you it's safe. Got it?"
Ava and I both nodded.
Before stepping out, Matthew handed the gun back to me. "Use it to protect your mother," he said quietly, taking a wrench from the glove box.
I nodded, my heart pounding.
Without another word, John and Matthew stepped into the drizzle, their silhouettes quickly swallowed by fog and the dim yellow glow of the motel's flickering sign.
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I wasn't planning to update today or tomorrow, but I had a lot of free time, and I ended up writing more than I expected. I was also having fun, so I thought, why not release it today and tomorrow too? I hope you guys enjoy it!