Exhausted, I fell asleep the moment I hit the bed. It was so comfortable that I didn't even notice when I drifted off.
"Max! Max! Wake up, honey!"
I felt someone shaking my shoulder. My eyes fluttered open, squinting against the sunlight spilling through the thin curtains.
"Are you okay, honey?" Ava asked, worry etched across her face.
"I'm okay, Mom. Why are you asking?" I mumbled, still groggy.
"You were mumbling in your sleep and sweating a lot," she said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I was afraid you were having a nightmare."
I looked down, my hands were damp with sweat. The dream was still fresh in my mind: Henry Moore's head exploding before my eyes. I remembered every detail, but strangely, I didn't feel sick or horrified anymore. Maybe it was because of Agent 47's body—suppressing my emotions—or maybe I was just getting used to it.
Whatever the reason, I felt... strong. My body was light, my senses sharper than ever. I could hear faint footsteps down the hall, the creak of old wood, even the rustle of leaves outside. I felt almost superhuman. My body was fully transformed into Agent 47.
I looked back at Ava, who was still watching me with concern, and I couldn't help but smile. "I'm okay, Mom," I said softly, sitting up in bed.
She smiled in return, though a hint of worry lingered in her eyes. "Are you hungry? That boy, Rohan—he gave us plenty. He's a kind boy."
She pulled a can from her backpack. I was about to refuse, remembering how careful we needed to be with our supplies, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.
Ava chuckled softly. "It's alright. He gave us enough to share."
She handed me a can of corn. I nodded gratefully and began eating. The simple, bland food tasted better than anything I'd had in days. As I ate, Ava reached out and gently touched my face, watching me with a soft, loving smile. Her eyes were warm, full of relief that I was safe.
Her gaze lingered a little too long, and I felt my cheeks heat up. "Mom... you're making me embarrassed," I mumbled, my mouth half-full.
She laughed quietly and pulled her hand away. "Alright, alright," she said with a smile. "I'll let you eat in peace."
When she left for the bathroom, the room suddenly felt emptier—quieter. The warmth she carried with her seemed to fade from the air. I laughed under my breath. I'm acting like a clingy baby, I thought.
My uncle Matthew was still asleep on the sofa; he and my father had been taking turns standing guard through the night.
My father sat nearby, rubbing his forehead. His face was still swollen, though not as badly as before. He looked exhausted.
"Dad, are you okay?" I asked, noticing his discomfort. "If it hurts that much, maybe you should take the pain medicine Mom mentioned."
He glanced at me, eyes softening with warmth. "Don't worry, Max. I'm fine. It's just a headache. Probably from not wearing my glasses. I left them at the house, and now my head's killing me."
I nodded, still concerned, but didn't press him further.
The room smelled faintly of burnt cigarettes and old furniture. After sitting for a while, I decided to get some fresh air.
As I stepped outside, my father's voice came from behind me. "Don't go far. Stay within the motel grounds."
"Okay, Dad," I called back. "I'll keep that in mind."
The morning sun bathed the cracked parking lot in gold. The motel was surrounded by thick forest, and beyond it, only a few scattered houses stood in the distance. It was eerily quiet, except for the faint chirping of birds.
I wandered down the hallway, passing rows of broken-down rooms with shattered doors and cracked windows. Then my eyes caught on the algae-covered swimming pool outside, its surface dark and murky under the pale morning light. That's when I heard voices, coming from the room where Rohan and his sister were staying.
Curious, I moved closer and pressed my ear gently against the door. Their voices were hushed, speaking in a language I didn't recognize. But one word stood out—walkie-talkie.
My pulse quickened. What were they discussing? Were they contacting someone?
Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching. I straightened immediately, pretending I hadn't been eavesdropping. My heartbeat pounded in my chest, nerves tightening inside me. I could only hope they hadn't realized I'd been listening.
The door opened, and Rohan stepped out. He froze for a moment when he saw me so close, then forced a nervous smile.
"Oh, hey kid. Good morning. Sleep well?"
I smiled back. "Yeah, I did."
Behind him, I caught a glimpse of his sister, Anika. She was sitting on the floor, playing quietly with a small, broken doll. Something about the scene felt... off.
Noticing my glance, Rohan quickly shifted, closing the door behind him with his foot. "Sorry about that. My sister doesn't like people looking at her—she's very shy." He gave a quick, awkward smile.
"You don't have to apologize," I said, trying to ease the tension. "I understand."
He nodded quickly, then looked around as if searching for something. "Hey, did you happen to see a walkie-talkie anywhere? My sister... uh, she lost it. If you find it around here, could you let me know?"
"Sure," I said. "If I find it, I'll tell you."
"Thanks," he replied, relief flashing across his face before he hurried down the stairs.
I watched him go, the uneasy feeling in my chest growing stronger.
Something about those two... didn't feel right.
I went back inside our room and found Uncle Matthew and my father talking quietly. Their voices were low but serious.
"John," Matthew said, his brow furrowed, "we need to think about where we go from here. You know this area better than any of us. Do you have somewhere in mind—someplace safe?"
My father rubbed his temples, clearly exhausted. "Matthew, I don't know," he said finally. "There are a few places that might be safe, but they could be just as dangerous. I don't even know what to think anymore. Just... give me a moment."
He leaned back, massaging his forehead. Then his eyes caught mine, and his expression softened into a small smile.
"Do you like the place, Max?" he asked.
I stepped closer and lowered my voice. "Dad... this place feels weird, if I'm being honest."
He smiled faintly, trying to reassure me. "It's normal to feel that way. Everything's uncertain right now—the people, the places. Give it time, son. You'll get used to it."
Before I could answer, Matthew crossed his arms and spoke up again. "Brother, even I feel something's off. That boy lied to us about being alone, and then suddenly we find his sister? Doesn't that strike you as strange? And do you remember hearing her giggling in the middle of the night?"
My father sighed, his patience thinning. "You're both worrying too much. I know those siblings—I met them several times on business trips before all this started. They're good kids. As for the giggling, Anika's autistic. Don't read too much into it."
Hearing that, both Matthew and I relaxed a little, though the unease in my chest didn't fade entirely.
Matthew frowned, still deep in thought. "Alright, but there's something else that doesn't sit right with me. How do they have so much canned food—enough to hand out like it's nothing? And why does this place still have power? Running water, working lights—the whole grid's been dead for weeks. It's too perfect, John. You knew them before the outbreak, sure, but you also know better than anyone what people turn into when the world goes to hell."
My father hesitated, and for the first time, uncertainty crossed his face. He didn't have an answer.
"You're right," he said finally, standing up. "That is suspicious."
He straightened his jacket and glanced toward the door. "Let's go talk to Rohan. Maybe he can explain what's really going on here."
Matthew nodded, and the three of us stepped out together, heading down the hallway toward the siblings' room, unaware of just how many secrets that motel might be hiding.