Whispering Beasts part 2

The sound of the beasts echoed beyond the dark path; a dull and unpleasant growl mixed with the torrential acid rain that threatened to touch my skin. Every crunch of dry branches under their feet made me quicken my pace, fully aware that my time was running out. I had to hurry—nightfall spared no one, and those insatiable creatures lurked at the slightest distraction.

Fortunately, the village was already in sight, its blurry silhouettes standing out against the sickly sky. But it wasn't a safe refuge; there was always someone ready to take whatever you had. The gates, already broken and half-collapsed, barely offered any protection, and the distrustful gazes of the other survivors were as sharp as any weapon. Even so, it was better than risking wandering through that damned place. My breath grew heavier as I approached, but I stayed calm, reminding myself that I had to keep going—for my brother’s sake.

The entrance to the village had always been a gloomy place, but that day felt different. Two men looked at me with lecherous eyes, their stares full of desire. It brought back memories I would rather have forgotten, but I couldn't afford to feel fear. Not for myself, but for my younger brother, whose health worsened each passing day. I closed my eyes and swallowed my discomfort as I crossed the gate, feeling how each step dragged me deeper into this place.

I made my way to the ruined hut, the one that wouldn’t last much longer. Each night, the wood creaked under the freezing wind, and sometimes I wondered if it would be the last. The door, already worn out and nearly falling off, opened with a groan, and as soon as I stepped inside, I saw him.

There he was—my brother—lying on the bed, covered by a tattered blanket. His eyes were closed, his face pale, and although his breathing was faint, the persistent cough held him captive.

I approached quietly, afraid to wake him, and checked his temperature. It hadn’t improved, but at least it hadn’t gotten worse. That was something, I told myself, even though I knew time was running out. I sighed in relief and walked to the kitchen, which was really just a corner with a few old, broken pots. The plates were falling apart, and the food—if you could even call it that—was a pile of leftovers that wouldn’t last more than a few days. The water… there was barely two liters left, which meant I’d have to go back to the well. No other option, I thought, staring at the nearly empty bottle.

How many more days can my brother hold on? The question ate away at me, but I tried not to let the thought corrupt me. I couldn’t afford to break down.

Cough, cough!

A dry cough interrupted my thoughts. I quickly looked toward the bed. It was him—my brother. The cough had woken him. His already weak body trembled beneath the sheets, but his eyes remained closed, as if he were struggling to hold on to strength in that scrawny little frame.

"It can’t be..." The lump in my throat swelled with force, and desperation choked me. I felt hollow. My eyes turned red, but I managed to hold back the tears. I couldn’t afford to cry. Not now... not for me, but for him.

I needed to find a solution quickly. Maybe go to a hospital... I thought, but quickly dismissed the idea—the nearest one was over thirty kilometers away, and there was no guarantee I’d find the supplies I needed.

I left the hut with my head in the clouds. Nothing came to mind, and there was a constant unease in every inch of my body.

I walked through the dusty streets of the village, which had once been a lively place, full of laughter and activity. Now, everything was dead. Every corner seemed like a shadow of the past—gray and decaying, a pitiful reflection of this world. The necrophages lurked outside, and sometimes they broke in, forcing everyone to hide before nightfall. Before dusk, the lights went out, and silence wrapped the place like a thick fog.

With no idea what to do, I headed to the chief’s residence—the man who had taken us in during the early days. Though I knew I sounded desperate, I was determined to ask for help. If I could just save my brother, I’d give anything I had—even if it meant selling my body.

As I approached, I heard a conversation leaking through the cracks in the door, and something inside me froze instantly.

"There won’t be any more rations?" someone said. The voice was hollow, lost, as if they no longer had the strength to fight. Hunger had consumed everyone just as the foul air we breathed had.

Food scarcity had already become evident, and with the constant attacks from the necrophages, things were only getting worse. These days, rumors about a wall in the northern fortress spread like wildfire—perhaps people were just trying to cling to some kind of hope in the midst of this chaos.

At that moment, my heart skipped a beat when I heard the chief's voice. Something in his tone had shifted. He sounded different—almost as if he had completely lost his sanity.

"Today… Eden has been condemned," he said in a deep voice, his figure casting shadows in the dim light. "The wrath of God has fallen upon us." His voice rose, echoing through the room with fanaticism.

"The plague ravaged the world and it's our fault! We caused this!" The words spilled from his mouth, filled with fury, though a hint of sorrow lingered in them—as if it came from a deep, persistent regret.

He went silent for a moment and looked at everyone present, but no one dared to speak. They just stood there, eyes cast down, trapped in their own misery.

"This village needs faith… FAITH!" he shouted, almost losing control. As I watched this madness unfold through the cracks in the door, I couldn’t understand how someone could change so drastically overnight.

"Let us worship the Creator with a sacrifice! It's the only thing that can save us!" His voice rose into a manic delusion, and through the hinges of the door, I could see how his gaze had turned bloodshot—like he had crossed the line between desperation and insanity.

What the hell had happened to him? This wasn’t the kind, level-headed man I once knew. He seemed completely intoxicated, drowning in a raw fanaticism that consumed him entirely.

“Hehehe…” A low, almost raspy laugh escaped his lips. The sound grew sharper, more unpleasant. “Since everyone agrees… I propose…” The smile widened on his face, twisted, as if the thought genuinely excited him in a sinister way. “Let’s cast out that child—the useless one—the one just lying there in his shack, wasting what little we have left!”

Clack!

“Who's there?!” The voice cut off abruptly, sharp and alarmed, as if someone had disturbed the little control he had left.

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