Elena Vargas POV´s
The decision had to be made in seconds, but the silence stretched it into an eternity.
Julián knelt on the concrete, clutching his bleeding arm. The wound was ugly—a crescent of torn flesh that was already beginning to blacken at the edges. Not the necrosis of gangrene, but something active. The veins radiating from the bite were darkening, spiderwebbing up his forearm like ink spilled under the skin.
"Sofía, the freezer," I ordered. My voice was steady, but my hands were trembling as I grabbed a sterile trauma kit.
"Doctora, he's bitten," Sofía said, her machete not moving an inch. Her eyes were fixed on Julián's throat. "You know the protocol. Containment means elimination."
"He's not a sample, he's a man," Camila screamed, throwing herself between the blade and her brother. "He saved us!"
"He's a carrier," Sofía countered, her knuckles white on the handle.
"I am the lead scientist on this project," I snapped, stepping into Sofía's personal space. I saw the hesitation in her eyes. She was a soldier, but she respected hierarchy. "And my hypothesis is that this strain is thermophilic. It needs heat to replicate. If I'm right, we don't need a bullet. We need ice."
I turned to Julián. He was sweating profusely, his eyes darting around the room with a feral intensity. The fever was hitting him fast.
"Can you stand?" I asked.
Julián looked at me. His pupils were dilating rhythmically, pulsing with his heartbeat. "It's... loud," he rasped. "The lights... they're buzzing."
"Get him up. Now!"
Miguel and Camila grabbed his shoulders, hauling him toward the open industrial freezer. A blast of sub-zero air rolled out, a white fog instantly condensing in the humid room.
Julián balked. As the cold hit him, he snarled—a sound that wasn't entirely human—and thrashed against their grip.
"It burns!" he yelled, digging his heels into the floor. "Don't put me in there! It burns!"
"That's the virus fighting back!" I shouted, shoving him from behind. "Push him!"
With a collective heave, they tumbled him into the metal box. I followed instantly, pulling the heavy release lever.
Thump.
The seal was airtight. The silence was absolute.
We were inside a box of stainless steel, ten feet by ten feet. The only light came from the blue LED temperature display: -20°C.
Julián collapsed against a shelf of frozen tissue samples, curling into a fetal ball. He was shivering so violently his teeth sounded like dice in a cup.
"Hold him down," I commanded. I ripped open his sleeve, exposing the bite.
The transformation was happening in real-time. In the dim light, the black veins were glowing a faint, sickly violet. The heat of his infection was warring with the ambient cold.
"Watch," I whispered.
It took thirty seconds.
As Julián's core temperature plummeted, the violet light began to retreat. The angry, swollen redness around the bite faded to a dull grey. The frantic, animalistic tension in his muscles unlocked, replaced by the sluggish stiffness of hypothermia.
He gasped, a long, shuddering breath, and opened his eyes. They were clear. The feral dilation was gone.
"Elena?" he whispered. His teeth chattered. "Why... why is it so cold?"
"It worked," I breathed, slumping against the cold metal wall. "The viral protein coat... it crystallizes under extreme cold. It can't replicate. It goes dormant."
"So he's cured?" Camila asked, wrapping her blazer around her shivering brother.
"No," I said, checking his pulse. It was slow, thready. "He's paused. As long as he's cold, he's human. But if he warms up..."
BOOM.
The heavy steel door of the freezer vibrated. Someone was hitting it from the outside.
"Open up! We know you're in there!"
The voice was distorted, synthesized. It wasn't the cartel. It wasn't the police.
"Sweepers," Sofía hissed, her breath pluming in the cold air. "Black ops cleanup crew. If they find us, they incinerate the room. No witnesses."
I looked at the temperature gauge. -21°C. Julián was stabilizing, but we were freezing to death. And outside, a death squad was setting charges on the door.
We had two exits. The door we came in, which was currently being breached. And the ventilation shaft in the ceiling—the intake for the cooling system.
"The vents," I said, pointing up. "They lead to the filtration plant. It's a maze, but it's tight. They can't follow us easily."
"And the box?" Sofía pointed to the lead-lined container I had refused to leave behind.
"It goes with us," I said. "It's the only leverage we have."
"Julián can barely walk," Miguel panicked.
Julián stood up. He was pale, his lips blue, but he stood on his own. He grabbed a frozen metal tray, his grip steady.
"I can walk," he said, his voice hard. "Better to be cold than dead."