Chapter 163: Chapter 163 - I’ll Do It
Malcolm stepped out of the plant.
The afternoon air felt heavier than it should have.
The sun had climbed high while he was inside. Harsh light spilled across the concrete yard, flattening everything beneath it. The cooling towers loomed overhead, their shadows stretching across cracked asphalt.
He hadn’t realized how long he had stood in that pod.
His legs felt stiff when he moved.
The mask muffled his breathing as he scanned the empty lot. After a moment he pulled it off and drew in the hot, dry air.
Marybeth stepped out behind him, closing the door before pulling off her own mask.
"She came out?" Malcolm asked.
Marybeth nodded. "I heard noise from outside. I was too scared to move." Her voice dropped lower. "Was she..."
Her words trailed off when his eyes sharpened.
His jaw tightened.
He looked across the yard again.
The truck.
The loading dock.
The broken fence.
Nothing.
Hours had passed.
If she wanted to die, she would do it alone.
He would do the same if he were in her place.
But he didn’t care.
The need to find her outweighed logic.
Malcolm started walking.
Marybeth followed behind him.
His boots crunched across gravel as he moved toward the edge of the yard. His eyes tracked the ground automatically.
Footprints.
He kept moving.
"Iyisha."
Still nothing.
The lake flashed silver beyond the slope, bright under the afternoon sun. Something about that direction pulled at him.
Malcolm stopped at the edge of the lot.
Then he saw them.
Boot prints.
Malcolm crouched and looked closer. The edges of the print were blurred where gravel had shifted under her weight. He traced the direction with his eyes, following the faint marks toward the woods.
He looked up.
Then he stood.
As he stepped forward, Marybeth caught his arm.
Malcolm stopped.
His gaze dropped slowly to her hand gripping his sleeve.
She noticed immediately and pulled it away.
He hated when people touched him like that.
When he was younger, he would have punched anyone who tried.
Except hers.
Iyisha’s touch had never made his skin crawl.
"Are you going to find her?" Marybeth asked.
"Yes."
The word came out flat.
He stepped toward the trees.
Marybeth followed.
"If she’s infected—"
Malcolm slowed.
He didn’t turn around.
He just stood there, shoulders tightening.
"She had a choice," Marybeth said quietly. "If she wanted to disappear..."
Her voice softened, careful.
"Shut up," Malcolm growled.
Iyisha and he had made a promise.
If either of them turned, the other would end it.
Malcolm didn’t break promises.
Not ones like that.
He would see it through to the end.
He started walking again.
The grass ahead was disturbed.
Bent low.
Pressed down where someone had passed through.
Her trail led straight into the trees.
Malcolm followed it.
They walked farther along the edge of the trees.
A small building came into view.
Malcolm slowed.
His breath caught without warning, a tight pull in his chest like his body already knew something waited inside.
Was he too late?
He stopped a few steps from the door.
The infection varied from person to person.
Some turned in seconds.
Some in hours.
Some lasted days.
What if Iyisha had already turned?
His hand tightened around the gun.
If she had turned, could he pull the trigger?
Yes.
Of course he could.
That was the promise.
That was why he came.
But another thought pressed in harder.
He remembered her face through the glass.
The way her lips had moved.
He still didn’t know what she had said.
He wanted to hear her voice again.
Just once.
They moved closer.
The building was small. A storage shed, maybe. Rusted siding. Narrow windows along one wall.
The door was closed.
Not locked.
Malcolm leaned slightly, peering through the narrow gap beside the frame. The inside wasn’t dark. Pale daylight slipped through the side windows.
He tightened his grip on the gun.
Then he reached for the handle.
Before he could open it—
"Stop."
The voice came from inside.
Malcolm froze.
Iyisha.
Her voice was hoarse.
Rough.
Like she had been crying for a long time.
He pushed the door open slowly.
The storage room smelled like dust and rusted metal. Thin daylight slipped through the narrow windows along the wall, cutting pale strips across the floor.
Iyisha stood in the far corner.
Her back pressed against the wall like she was trying to disappear into it.
Her hair hung loose over her face. When she pushed it aside, Malcolm saw her eyes.
Red.
Swollen.
She had been crying for a long time.
"Stop," she said again.
Her voice shook badly.
"Don’t come closer."
Malcolm didn’t move.
Iyisha dragged a shaky breath into her lungs.
"Malcolm... please."
The word cracked.
"Just go."
He kept looking at her.
Alive.
His chest tightened.
"I’m not leaving," he said.
Her head snapped up.
"Yes you are."
The words came out rough, almost angry.
"Turn around and go. I don’t want..." Her voice trailed off as her hands dragged at her shirt, pulling and shifting like she couldn’t stop moving.
Malcolm just looked at her. Drank her in. she’ll still here.
Iyisha’s breathing grew faster.
"You shouldn’t be here," she said, voice breaking again. "I don’t fucking want you here" her voice got louder.
Her hand trembled where it hung beside her leg.
She noticed and quickly hid it behind her back.
"I chose this!" she pointed out. "Go out! Get the fuck out here!"
Malcolm took a step forward.
"No."
Panic flashed across her face.
"No—no, stop!"
Her voice rose suddenly, cracking hard.
"Don’t come closer!"
She pressed herself harder against the wall, shaking her head.
"You can’t see me like this."
Her jaw tightened suddenly.
The muscles locked without warning.
A strained sound escaped her throat as she forced it open again with her hand.
When she spoke again her voice was weaker.
"I’m already turning."
Tears slid down her face.
"I can feel it."
But he didn’t stop moving.
One slow step closer.
Iyisha let out a broken sob.
"Why are you doing this?" she cried.
"I told you to leave!"
Her shoulders shook violently now.
"I didn’t want you to have to see it!"
She wiped at her face angrily but the tears kept coming.
"Please," she whispered.
"Malcolm... just go."
Her voice dropped to something small and fragile.
"I don’t want you here when it happens."
Malcolm stopped a few steps away.
Close enough now that he could see the tremor running through her hands.
Close enough to hear the uneven rhythm of her breathing.
His jaw tightened.
"We made a promise."
Iyisha squeezed her eyes shut.
Another sob escaped her chest.
"I know," she whispered.
"That’s why I left."
Marybeth stepped forward.
"Did it... did it get you?" she asked carefully.
Iyisha didn’t answer at first.
Then she nodded.
Slowly, she turned around.
Her hands gripped the back of her torn shirt. The fabric stuck to dried blood as she pulled it up.
Malcolm’s eyes dropped to the wound.
It was barely a cut.
A shallow nick along her back.
Too small.
For a second it didn’t make sense.
Then he saw it.
Dark veins spidering outward from the wound, crawling under her skin. The flesh around it had split open, blackened like it had been burned.
Marybeth sucked in a sharp breath.
Her chest hitched as she tried to steady it.
Malcolm’s jaw tightened.
"If you don’t want to do it," Marybeth said quietly, voice shaking, "I can."
Malcolm moved before he even realized it.
His hand shot out and grabbed the front of her jacket, slamming her back against the wall.
"Don’t you fucking dare," he growled.
His voice was low.
Dangerous.
Marybeth froze.
"Stop!"
Iyisha’s voice broke across the room.
"Malcolm... please."
He turned toward her.
The anger drained from his face as quickly as it had appeared.
For a second he looked almost confused by his own reaction.
Then he released Marybeth and stepped back.
"I’ll do it," he said.
His voice sounded rough.
Painfully tight.
"I’ll kill you myself."
The words hung in the small room.
Iyisha’s shoulders shook.
She was crying harder, tears spilling freely down her face.
She didn’t want it.
That much was clear.
But she nodded anyway.
Then she looked up at him and managed a small, trembling smile.
"You said you’d wait," she whispered.
Malcolm held her gaze.
He nodded once.
"I’ll kill you the moment you turn."
