Chapter 19. Here they come again

  Raven followed Wilkes through the hospital halls, noting the changes since he had first arrived. The place had been chaos, full of frightened, directionless people clinging to survival. Now there was movement—order. Civilians were clearing debris, reinforcing weak points, organizing supplies. Liu’s leadership was evident in the way people listened and followed instructions without hesitation. There was still fear in their eyes, but it was tempered by purpose. It was strange to see something functioning so smoothly in the middle of the apocalypse.

  It was also a stark contrast to what Raven had expected during the apocalypse and left him wondering what his role here was becoming.

  He wasn’t a leader. He’d spent enough time alone to know he worked best that way. The thought of people looking to him for answers made his skin crawl. Structure like what Wilkes and Liu were building grated on him. He had no interest in leading these people—not because he didn’t care about their survival, but because he knew himself. He wasn’t built for speeches or governance. He was built to get things done.

  As they stepped into an unused office, Raven finally voiced the decision he’d made while he was out in the city. “I don’t want to be in charge,” he said simply.

  Wilkes raised a brow, leaning against the desk. “You think it’s that easy to step away?”

  “I think you’re better suited for it,” Raven replied. “You’re a cop. People listen to you. You’ve got structure, discipline, leadership experience. You’re already running things whether you like it or not.”

  Wilkes exhaled through his nose, arms crossed. “And what about you? These people are looking at you just as much as me. You cleared the sink, stopped the spawns, helped fortify this place. You think they’re not going to expect you to step up?”

  Raven shook his head. “I don’t think a democracy is going to work in this mess—not yet anyway. People don’t need votes. They need direction. One person making the hard calls, like a captain on a ship.” He levelled Wilkes with a steady gaze. “That should be you.”

  Wilkes didn’t look particularly pleased, but there was a glimmer of understanding in his expression. “That’s a lot of weight to put on one person’s shoulders.”

  “It’s better than a dozen people arguing about what to do next,” Raven countered. “And you can handle it. People trust you. I respect you.”

  Wilkes let out a dry chuckle. “That right?”

  Raven smirked slightly. “Don’t let it go to your head.” He shifted his stance. “I’ll follow orders, but only if I agree with them. I’m not going to blindly do whatever you say. If I think you’re wrong, I’ll say it.”

  Wilkes studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “That’s fair. I don’t need blind loyalty, just people willing to do what needs to be done.” Wilkes words mirroring his own earlier thought put Raven at ease in a way he hadn’t been expecting.

  “Then we’ve got an understanding. Raven acknowledged, unsure if he felt relieved or trapped. Stepping back wasn’t the same as walking away—and they both knew it.”

  Wilkes extended a hand. Raven hesitated for only a second before clasping it. The handshake was firm, an agreement between two men who knew that survival came first.

  With that settled, Wilkes straightened. “I still want your input on how to get food happening as soon as possible.”

  Raven barely had a moment to process Wilkes’s agreement before shouts echoed from the plaza below. Both men snapped toward the window, eyes widening as they took in the scene outside. A stampede of desperate figures rushed toward the hospital—dozens, no, at least a hundred people, their faces twisted in terror. Behind them, the patrol scrambled to keep order, their weapons flashing in the midday light as they tried to fend off the goblins that surged after them.

  “Fuck,” Raven spat, already moving.

  Wilkes was right behind him, both men barrelling down the hall toward the main doors.

  By the time they reached the entrance, the first of the fleeing civilians had already arrived, their footsteps frantic as they shoved through the hospital doors. The officers stationed at the entry looked momentarily overwhelmed, their grips tightening on their batons and spears, but Wilkes wasted no time. His voice cut through the chaos like steel on steel.

  “Form ranks! Shields up, weapons ready!”

  The men snapped to attention, falling into a defensive formation at the threshold.

  Raven turned his gaze back to the retreating patrol. The group was doing everything they could to slow the tide, their spears lashing out to keep the closest goblins at bay while a few well-placed bolts took down the boldest creatures attempting to leap at them. But they were being pushed hard, forced into a steady retreat.

  As the patrol neared the hospital steps, Wilkes made the call.

  “Fall in!”

  The scouting party broke into a final sprint, reaching the entryway as the officers tightened their formation. The last of them barely cleared the doors before the goblins swarmed the open space outside.

  They stopped just short of the entrance, gathering at the far end of the street, a wall of snapping teeth and guttural shrieks. Their numbers had nearly doubled, almost fifty of them now, their ranks reinforced by medium-sized goblins clad in mismatched armour. They gripped crude weapons—clubs, rusted swords, and jagged spears—and beat them against the pavement, their war cries reverberating through the plaza.

  At the centre of the horde stood something larger.

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  Raven’s eyes narrowed as he spotted the hulking goblin leading the charge. Taller than the rest, its armour more complete, and its beady yellow eyes filled with a cruel intelligence. It raised a rusted axe high, bellowing something in its guttural tongue.

  The goblins roared in response, surging forward.

  Raven reacted instantly, yanking an arrow from his quiver and knocking it in one fluid motion. He let it fly, barely needing to aim with the goblins packed so tightly together. His arrow punched through a snarling goblin’s eye, dropping it mid-charge.

  He didn’t stop.

  Another arrow. Another kill.

  The goblins kept coming.

  Beside him, the two officers with crossbows fired at a steadier pace, each bolt taking another creature down. They couldn’t match Raven’s speed, but every shot counted. The advancing horde faltered under the initial barrage, bodies dropping in the street. Almost a dozen goblins had fallen before the first wave even reached the shield wall.

  And when they did, the clash was deafening.

  The officers braced, shields locked together as the goblins slammed into them, the force shaking their line but not breaking it. They held firm, spears darting over their defences, skewering goblins as they tried to claw their way through.

  They were holding.

  For the first time since this madness started, Raven saw humans standing their ground and not just running or dying.

  Then the big bastard arrived.

  The armoured goblin leader leapt into the air with a bone-chilling roar, its massive axe raised high.

  It came down like a war hammer.

  The impact sent one of the officers flying, his shield crumpling beneath the brute’s sheer power. The line wavered as goblins rushed into the opening, forcing their way through.

  Raven cursed and adjusted his aim, firing down into the breach. His arrows found targets, but there were too many.

  Wilkes charged into the fray.

  Raven caught the flash of metallic skin as Wilkes barrelled into the massive goblin, slamming into it with the force of a freight train. The impact sent the beast sprawling, but Wilkes didn’t let up. He mounted the goblin and drove his police baton down like a hammer, striking again and again.

  The goblin howled in pain, stunned but not dead.

  Then, with a snarl, it threw Wilkes off with a surge of strength, scrambling to its feet.

  Raven swore and loosed another arrow, watching it punch into the brute’s shoulder. It staggered, but didn’t fall.

  Not enough.

  Dropping his bow, Raven sprinted forward, drawing his dagger.

  Wilkes was already engaging the brute again, his metallic fists smashing into the goblin’s face with brutal efficiency. But Raven knew it wasn’t enough. Wilkes was strong, durable, but he wasn’t enhancing his strikes with ether—not yet.

  The fight was becoming a war of attrition—one Wilkes couldn’t win.

  Raven saw his opening.

  The brute’s axe cleaved through the air, inches from Wilkes’ head.

  Sprinting forward he vanished.

  Reappearing behind the goblin in a blink, dagger flashing as he drove it into the base of its thick neck. It roared, spinning wildly, swinging its axe in a blind arc.

  Raven phased again, passing through the attack like smoke.

  Wilkes capitalized, smashing his baton into the goblin’s jaw with a sickening crunch.

  The brute staggered.

  Raven reappeared at its side, slashing at the back of its ankle. His blade bit deep, severing the tendon.

  The goblin collapsed to one knee, its snarls turning to panicked grunts.

  Wilkes didn’t give it a chance to recover. He stepped in and drove his baton down with every ounce of strength he had, smashing the creature’s skull into the pavement.

  The brute twitched once, then lay still.

  Silence.

  Then, a cry went up.

  The battle was over.

  Raven turned, chest heaving, and scanned the battlefield.

  The officers had held the line. The goblins were dead, their bodies littering the hospital entrance.

  For the first time, it wasn’t just him. People stood together—and it was working.

  But victory came at a cost.

  A pool of blood rapidly spread beneath the fallen lieutenant.

  Wilkes was the first to react, lunging toward the fallen lieutenant. “Stay with me,” he urged, voice firm but laced with urgency. His hands pressed hard against the deep spear wound in the man’s side, trying to slow the bleeding. A thick stream of crimson seeped between Wilkes’ fingers, pooling onto the pavement.

  Raven took a step forward—and froze.

  Black veins.

  The creeping lines spread outward from the wound, curling under the man’s skin like living tendrils. Raven’s stomach clenched as an all-too-familiar horror settled in. He’d seen this before.

  “Fuck,” he snarled. “He’s poisoned. We need Carter, now!”

  A woman near the doors gasped and bolted inside, shouting for the doctor. Wilkes didn't waste breath on questions. His face darkened with grim determination as he and another officer hoisted the lieutenant onto a makeshift stretcher.

  “Move!” Wilkes barked, his usual composed authority cracking under the weight of urgency.

  Raven grabbed the other end of the stretcher, the two of them rushing toward the hospital entrance. Every second counted. Every heartbeat could be the last.

  The moment they burst inside, Carter came barrelling out of his office, wearing a wild grin. “I did it!” he exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

  Wilkes rounded on him. “Where the fuck have you been?” he thundered, his voice reverberating off the hospital walls.

  Carter’s triumphant expression collapsed the moment he saw the blood-soaked bandages and the barely-conscious lieutenant. “Shit,” he breathed. “Get him to the surgery—down the hall, second door on the right. Now!”

  They sprinted down the corridor, shoving past stunned civilians. The second they reached the operating room; they positioned the lieutenant onto the surgical table.

  “This is Thrak venom. It’s a type of spider,” Raven informed the doctor.

  Carter muttered, examining the spreading infection. “I’ve seen wounds like this before, but this is acting fast. That wound's already bad.”

  Raven’s pulse thundered in his ears. Same black veins. Same panic. But this time… maybe it wouldn’t end the same.

  “Can you save him?” Wilkes asked, voice taut.

  Carter’s jaw tightened. “I need to cut it out. Now.”

  He grabbed a small block of wood from a nearby table, prying open the lieutenant’s mouth and wedging it between his teeth. “Hold him down,” he instructed. “This is going to hurt, and we don’t have anaesthetics.”

  Wilkes and Raven moved without hesitation, pinning the lieutenant’s arms as Carter took a scalpel and cut.

  The lieutenant convulsed, a strangled, agonized groan escaping through the wooden block. Blood welled from the fresh incision—dark, viscous—but Carter worked quickly, slicing away the infected tissue with practiced precision.

  Then—something unexpected happened.

  Carter exhaled slowly, his hands hovering over the raw, gaping wound.

  Raven watched, eyes narrowing as something… shifted.

  Wisps of translucent liquid slithered from Carter’s fingertips, drawn to the wound like iron to a magnet. They shimmered faintly and wove into the torn flesh, binding it together in delicate, pulsing strands.

  Like a 3D printer rebuilding muscle and sinew.

  The room was silent save for the wet sound of flesh knitting together.

  Raven and Wilkes exchanged a glance, neither sure of what they were witnessing.

  Finally, Carter exhaled sharply and stumbled back, sweat beading at his temple. The lieutenant’s chest rose and fell in laboured but steady breaths.

  “Holy shit,” Wilkes muttered.

  Raven crossed his arms, staring at Carter. “Since when can you do that?”

  Carter wiped his brow, a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion flickering in his expression. Uri had warned that ether would change things. He just hadn’t expected it to start in a hospital hallway. “Since about twenty minutes ago.” He glanced down at his hands, flexing them like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just done. “I think… I think I have a skill,” he said before passing out.

  Raven met Wilkes’ gaze, seeing his own stunned disbelief mirrored there. “This changes everything,” he muttered, barely able to process what they were witnessing. The lieutenant’s wound was knitting itself together before their eyes.