Page 39

Unstoppable

Fifty miles away

T he land was quiet as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the barren terrain. A lone coyote trotted through the scrub, its lean body moving with purpose. Its sharp ears twitched at the slightest rustle, its nose catching the faintest trace of scent on the dry wind.

In the distance, a rabbit darted from the shelter of a bush, its movements jerky and frantic. The coyote froze, its golden eyes narrowing as it watched. Something about the prey was off. It moved erratically, its limbs stiff, its head twitching unnaturally. But hunger gnawed at the coyote’s belly, and instinct overpowered caution .

The rabbit paused, its chest heaving as it turned its head to look back. Foam flecked its lips, and its wide eyes glistened with a feverish sheen. The coyote crept closer—its paws silent against the cracked earth. With a sudden burst of speed, the rabbit bolted, skittering through the scrub.

The chase was swift and brutal. The coyote surged forward, closing the distance with every stride. The rabbit’s speed faltered as its limbs betrayed it, trembling under the weight of its disease. With a final leap, the coyote pounced, its jaws closing around the small body. A brief struggle, a squeal of pain. And silence.

The coyote stood over its prey, panting. It began to tear into the flesh, unaware of the foam-streaked mouth or the tainted blood that stained its muzzle. The land seemed to hold its breath, the shadows deepening as the first stars pierced the twilight sky.

I am Rabies.

I am unstoppable.