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Chapter 13 When Silence Hunts (5)

  The thing screeched — a harsh, broken sound that stabbed straight through Nox’s skull.

  He stumbled back instinctively, hands flying up to shield himself, but the creature didn’t strike. Instead, it spun on its too-long limbs, skittering across the floor with frantic, twitching movements. Its laughter followed, high and jagged, like glass grinding against metal. The sound echoed through the cracked shelves and empty walls, sharp and grating.

  Nox caught flashes of it weaving between the wreckage: the gleam of stretched teeth, the twitch of its whip-like tail. It just laughed — shrill and giddy — until it vanished into the shadows it had crawled out from, leaving a suffocating silence behind.

  The silence that followed felt unnatural. Too heavy.

  Nox stood frozen, his breath ragged in his chest, every muscle trembling from more than just the shock. His mind, foggy and disoriented, couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

  The creature’s laughter still echoed in his ears, a twisted melody that made his stomach churn.

  For a moment, he just stared into the darkness, waiting for the next attack, the next sound, anything to tell him what was happening. But there was nothing. Just the soft hum of his heartbeat, the dryness in his throat, and the sickening weight of his own exhaustion.

  His knees wobbled, and he caught himself on a nearby shelf, fingers digging into the splintered wood. His body felt like it was shutting down, like every part of him had been stretched too thin. His head was a mess of static, thoughts hazy and disconnected. For a split second, he wondered if it was the adrenaline wearing off, or if it was something worse. His vision swam in front of him as he forced himself to take a step forward, but the dizziness hit him hard, making him stumble.

  The hunger, the thirst — they had been there since he first woke up, gnawing at the edges of his awareness. But it wasn’t just that. His body ached in ways he couldn’t ignore any longer. His joints felt stiff, sore — like he'd been running for hours on end, though he knew he hadn’t. The deep, bone-tired exhaustion he’d brushed aside earlier was turning into something heavier, something that wouldn’t be ignored.

  He staggered toward his pack, his mind blank except for the urgent need to grab the water bottle and medicine. He couldn’t stop to think about it. The pain in his throat reminded him of the need for hydration, but there was no time for deliberation.

  Luckily, Nox pulled the bottle free from a nearby shelf, someone must have left it behind while shopping, and splashed some water into his mouth, but it did little to quench the dry, gritty feeling that had settled there. His body begged for something stronger, something more.

  His fingers fumbled through the medicine in the cart and pulled out the blister pack of Prednisolone — his usual course of treatment for flare-ups. He popped the pill into his mouth without thinking, swishing it down with another gulp of water. He knew it wouldn't fix everything. The headache that pounded relentlessly at the back of his skull wasn’t going to disappear with just one pill. But it was a start.

  His thoughts were sluggish, fighting against the overwhelming weariness that had taken over. It was only when he felt a sharp pang in his gut that he realized how badly he’d neglected food. But it was too late for that now. He couldn’t stomach the idea of eating after what had just happened — the nausea hit him hard, the taste of the water turning sour in his mouth.

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  The fox-like creature's laughter still echoed in his ears, but Nox couldn’t focus on that now. It wasn’t the creature he needed to worry about — it was his own body, failing him when he needed it most.

  He reached for the Ibuprofen next, knowing it wouldn’t be enough for the pain, but at least it would ease the pressure a little. Two pills, swallowed dry. His throat burned, but he didn’t care. The cold sweat on his skin was a reminder of the fever creeping in, of the slow toll his condition had taken.

  He leaned against the shelf, feeling his legs shake beneath him. It would take time — time he didn’t have. The monster was gone, for now, but how long until it returned? How long until his body couldn’t keep up with the madness anymore?

  The only thing Nox knew for certain was that he had to keep moving.

  He rose, his legs trembling. With staggering feet, he grabbed his cart, using it for support, and continued on his way. Nox was sure that in her rush, Nataly hadn’t bothered to grab the non-perishable items as initially planned. So, he decided to throw a bit of everything into the cart, careful not to jostle his meds.

  On his way out, he noticed a stand selling camping equipment and grabbed one of the large bags. He spotted the "pre-made" medical kits near it and grabbed two of the more expensive ones, the ones with more supplies. He emptied one and filled it with his medicine, while the other he kept as it was. He saw survival kits and grabbed two, cramming them into the same bag. A part of him wondered why he took two, but he quickly reasoned that he might need a spare if one was damaged. In no time, the big bag was filled to the brim with items that would help him survive.

  But then, the nausea hit again, and he remembered: food.

  He grabbed another bag and started filling it as well. Non-perishable food, a few water bottles with filters just in case, filter replacements, and a few plain water bottles.

  Thinking of the group outside, he grabbed a few more empty hiking bags and survival kits, cramming them into his cart. With that, it seemed like the world came more into focus.

  Nox could hear the frantic voices over the radio.

  ‘Were they screaming into it the whole time?’ he wondered.

  And the alarm — most likely activated when everyone ran away — blared in the background.

  “I’m okay,” he finally spoke into the radio, his voice hoarse, which only caused more noise to pour through the static.

  He ignored them for now and decided to hoist the already full hiking bag onto his back. The action made him stumble. It was heavier than he expected, and combined with his already exhausted body, it seemed even heavier.

  Still, he knew he would need those items later. He mustered all the strength left in his body and started walking. He dragged the second bag behind him with one arm, while the other pushed the cart forward.

  It wasn’t easy, but he eventually made it to the fruit and vegetable aisle. Without wasting a moment, he dropped the bag and used both hands to throw items into the cart. Only when it was finally filled to the brim did he move again.

  Closer to the exit, the alarm became deafening. He walked past it, feeling sweat drip down his back. He didn’t even realize he had made it outside. What made him recognize that he had reached his destination? It was the arms.

  Suddenly, a few pairs of arms grabbed him, frantic voices guiding him to sit down. Someone grabbed his backpack and lifted it off, while someone else eased the bag from his back and set it near him.

  “You’re crazy,” Mike’s voice said, and Nox finally recognized it, a laugh in his tone.

  The hands touching his face, the eyes carefully examining his body, were unmistakably Nataly’s.

  “Did you take your medicine?” she asked urgently, rummaging through the medicine she had taken outside.

  Only after his nod did she relax and smile. He could see the others going through the cart he’d brought outside. They didn’t touch his filled and zipped backpack, but their eyes widened at the survival kits, water bottles with filters, and hiking backpacks, gratitude shining in them.

  “What’s in these?” Emily asked, and he waved her over, allowing her to open the two backpacks.

  When she did, Nataly peeked inside and quickly realized that both were meant for him.

  “I’ll reorganize this one,” she offered, taking his food and water backpack. “I’ll add some meat, fruit, and vegetables.” She waited for him to nod before heading to the cart.

  Mike’s leadership shone. He quickly told everyone how to reorganize the items, splitting them into different carts so that once they reached shelters, they could simply leave a cart behind without needing to divide everything again.

  For some reason, Nox felt like he could breathe again. Maybe the medicine was taking effect.

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