!!NSFW!!WARNING!!
The boat shook as the sea roared around them. Everyone grabbed rails, beams, even pieces of rope, anything that would keep them from being pitched into the water.
Children were thrown against the deck, crying as the boat lurched. Their cries mixed with the ripping sound of bullets tearing splinters from the hull.
Then…
Silence.
The Germans stopped firing and held their ranks.
Shmuel lifted his head slowly. "They will not cross the line. They cannot enter Egyptian waters."
The German patrol boats hovered at the border like wolves pacing outside a fence.
And just like that, the nightmare stopped.
Everyone sagged where they stood. Some collapsed on their knees. Others cried from relief. They were alive. Somehow.
But Ethan did not relax.
His ears twitched. Beneath the growling engines, Ethan sensed a deeper vibration, a hum that trembled through the water.
He turned east.
A massive silhouette cut across the horizon, backlit by the rising red sun. A warship, huge and menacing. The kind that could erase their existence with a single shell.
A cold thought pierced his spine.
If it fires its main cannons, even my body will not survive.
"Salman!" Ethan barked. "Take the women and children. Make them visible. Baruch, give me that white cloth."
Salman sprang to action, ushering frightened families toward the open deck.
Baruch scrambled a big sheet of white cloth into Ethan's hand.
Ethan climbed to the stern. Wind slapped his hair as he raised the cloth high.
"Please see us," he whispered. "Please."
The destroyer loomed closer.
A booming voice rolled across the sea, amplified through a megaphone.
"Stop your boat immediately. Do not attempt anything suspicious."
Ethan froze.
Dozens of rifles aimed straight at him from the warship's deck.
Behind him, the refugees stared in terror and hope, their breath trembling.
The German boats turned away, unwilling to challenge a British warship. Engines howled as they retreated.
Ethan lowered the flag for a second, relieved.
Then a rifle cracked.
A hot punch slammed into his shoulder. He crashed onto his back, blood started spilling out from the bullet wound.
People screamed. Children wailed. Talia shouted his name, her voice breaking.
Shmuel and Salman immediately took control, shouting for everyone to stay down.
Baruch and Talia grabbed children and shielded them with trembling arms.
Ethan stared at the sky, vision blurry. A part of him swelled with rage. It wanted to surge out like a tidal wave and tear the culprit limb by limb.
But he forced it down. Pushed it deep inside his mind.
He steadied his breathing and stood again despite the pain.
He lifted the white cloth once more.
"We have women and children!" His voice cracked. "Please do not shoot. Please!" The refugees followed him, shouting the same words, their desperate cries filling the sea.
The destroyer slowed. 200 yards. 150 yards. A hundred, and the ship finally stopped, but the cannons and rifles still aimed at the boat.
A dinghy was lowered.
Seven British soldiers rowed toward them, rifles ready.
Ethan braced himself, half expecting another shot.
But the officer climbed aboard with a scowl and barked, "Who fired at him? That was reckless. Get this man treated."
Riflemen rushed to help Ethan sit. The officer inspected the refugees, then signaled the warship with a flare.
They were saved. Probably. The British seemed to lower their suspicion after seeing the children and women as Shmuel and Ethan predicted. Ethan was mentally prepared to get shot two more times but it seemed their luck was not so bad.
Hours later, the group sat in a cramped storeroom smelling of engine oil and disinfectant. The soldiers gave them some food and water, even some blankets to cover their bodies.
Ethan lay on a narrow bed. Thick bandages wrapped his shoulder. Pain throbbed with each heartbeat, yet it was already fading faster than any human wound would.
Talia sat in a chair beside him, her head drooping forward from exhaustion. She refused to leave him, even when told to rest.
Her fingers barely touched his arm, as if needing proof that he was really alive.
Ethan watched her chest rise and fall, watched her hair spill over her shoulder. And he tried not to breathe too deeply.
Because everyone's scent had become sharper. More vivid. More… delicious.
He could identify each person by smell alone.
Salman was iron and sweat.
Baruch smelled like wood dust and tobacco.
Talia was warm honey and crushed flowers.
And women in general…
His chest tightened. His pulse quickened. When his gaze drifted to Talia, a primal urge clawed at him, he wanted to push her down, rip off her clothes and….
Is it the serum again? Or…
A thought crawled into his mind, cold and biological.
Maybe the organism inside Aeternum wants to propagate.
Maybe it wants to spread through me. Through contact. Through fluids. Through sex.
His eyes widened.
If it spreads… What about my offspring? Would they be like me? Hungry? Strong? Unstable? Will the micro-organism, the parasite, spread through his saliva? What about his blood?
What would happen if he… tried it with someone?
His thoughts spiraled, dark and sharp…
"Ethan?"
Talia's voice broke through his haze.
She rubbed her sleepy eyes and leaned closer.
"You smell so nice. Why?" she murmured.
Ethan froze.
Her face flushed red. She leaned in, almost too close.
The sweet scent assaulted Ethan.
Desire tore through him like lightning. He nearly salivated.
He forced every muscle in his body to go still. Then he managed a gentle smile.
"I am glad you are safe, Talia."
He stood and headed outside before the hunger inside him slipped the leash. He missed the desperate look in Talia's eyes.
...….
The soldiers told them they will be asked some questions.
The men were questioned separately.
A British officer leaned back in his chair, eyeing Ethan like a puzzle.
"You claim you fled Libya with civilians."
"Yes."
"You have no documents."
"No."
"Your accent is strange."
"I learned your language two days ago."
The officer's eyebrow twitched. "Do not joke with me."
He leaned closer. Stared straight into Ethan's eyes.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Ethan felt the man's pulse jump. The officer swallowed hard.
Something primal in him recognized Ethan as… unnatural but beautiful.
"Where are you from, truly?" the officer asked quietly.
Ethan smiled, giving the same answer he practiced with the refugees hundreds of times.
After much deliberation, Ethan fixated on introducing himself as a lower level German recruit who was ordered to "take care" of the resisting villagers, but he instead helped the small group flee from their grasp. He sabotaged his comrade using laxatives and stole their boat and escorted the people out.
Ethan and Shmuel drilled the story into everyone.
The officer looked at Ethan and his information on some patrolling route,"Fine! You can go for now."
Ethan thanked the man and walked out. He decided to sleep alone in the room, where he do not have to keep on smelling everyone's sweat.
.....
Baruch groaned as he left his interrogation room.
"Why must they ask the same questions fifteen times? Do they think repeating will make new answers fall out of my pockets?"
A sepoy studying him raised an eyebrow. The gaze lingered a little bit too long for comfort.
Baruch blinked. "Is something on my face?"
Inside, panic rose in him. He had heard stories. Soldiers doing unexplainable things even to men.
Ethan is the handsome one. Why is this man staring at me instead? I am not even young anymore.
The sepoy finally spoke.
"Do you know Abdul Wasi Imran? From Bir al-Salhaya"
Baruch's jaw dropped. "That was my father. How do you know?"
The sepoy's face brightened.
"My father was his brother. We left for Sri Lanka thirty years ago. You look like his portrait."
Baruch's eyes widened with relief and joy. Now that the man mentioned, he does look somewhat similar to his grand-father.
They embraced like a long-lost family. Baruch explained their story to his newly found cousin Samad.
"My brother in law is an officer," Samad said. "Logistics division. He can help you all leave safely. Maybe even get to India. The war has not reached there yet."
Baruch sprinted off to share the good news.
He reached Ethan's room… and froze.
Moans came from inside. Rhythmic. Breathless.
Baruch blinked rapidly.
Talia? That crazy tomboy is always clinging to him. Of course she would finally get into his pants. Hehe..naughty couple, it will be a treat to see old Shmuel's face..
He peeked through a pinhole but his blood turned to ice.
It was not Talia.
It was Rivka.
Salman's wife.
Holding onto the bed railings for dear life while Ethan moved with terrifying intensity behind her. Ethan moved and growled like an animal, while Rivka tried to suppress her moans with one hand.
Baruch stumbled back, face burning.
He spotted Salman walking toward this hallway with Shmuel.
Panic clawed up Baruch's throat.