Werewolf Infection [4]

Sebastian gripped the warm palm tightly that felt puny in his hand—breakable and frail. Sebastian patted the hand that gripped his arm in assurance, "Don't worry. I'm fine."

Sebastian slowly straightened his back that was about to fall due to his stumble. He pretended everything was fine since he didn't want Atlas to worry too much from the look in his eyes. Atlas scowled harshly, "You're not fine."

Sebastian reached out to pat his black curls on his forehead with a cheerful grin, "Stop worrying so much."

Sebastian headed toward the red telephone booth that is nearest to the gas station. He could hear the sound of approaching footsteps following behind his heels.

Sebastian opened the red door that was cold to the touch, but Sebastian didn't show it on his face. He pushed the door behind his legs while his hand reached to grab the phone near his ear. His other hand, which is free, dialed his father's number.

He needs to tell his father his location so he can pick him up. As the phone rings and rings until a deep, rich male voice answers on the phone, "Sebastian. Is that you?"

Sebastian covers his mouth with his hand as he lets out a hard cough, his head pounding like one of those heavy drills driving through his brain. Sebastian coughed once again before wiping his mouth again. He looked down at the warm, humid moist in his palm, and his lips curled into a mocking smile.

There was dark, red blood in the middle of his palm, which contrasted with his pale flesh.

Sebastian opened his dry, cracked lips, "Yeah. It's me. I need you to pick me up at the gas station, which is across from the park."

His father's deep voice responded lightly, "Yeah, I'll be there soon. I mean it when I say stay away from other people. In the meantime, try to stay out of trouble."

Sebastian chewed on his bottom lip and asked, "Why do I need to stay away from other people?"

The air hung thick with silence, as though the stillness itself was overflowing with suspense. His father finally voiced his thoughts. "A werewolf bite can cause a vampire's mind to hallucinate and go rabid like a wild animal, which can make them lash out at people around them."

A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he collapsed against the cold, red glass behind his back. His fingers ran through his sweaty hair; he asked his finger, "Are you certain there's no cure?"

A reluctant sigh was his father's answer before he responded in a weary tone, "I have lived for over seven hundred years, yet I have never heard of a cure that can heal a vampire."

Sebastian didn't want to ask, but deep down, he needed to know, "What happens to those who were bitten?"

His father responded in a hard, grim tone, "Have you heard of mercy killing? Most vampires who were bitten experience a slow and agonizing death. They would receive a swift death before they reached that point, or they would slowly go mad as the toxin in their bloodstreams slowly spread while their body slowly decays."

Sebastian was silent; the feeling of a cold chill went through his body. He asked in a quiet, calm voice, "Is that what you were going to do to me?"

The chilly air was filled with silence once again. 

Sebastian closed his eyes in resignation; his father's silence is an answer to his question. He clenched the phone, where the phone almost makes a cracking noise, so Sebastian slowly releases the grip before he snaps the phone in half accidentally.

Sebastain whispered his last request, "Father, when you come to get me, I want you to promise to take care of Atlas while I'm gone. I don't care if he lives with you or the humans, but he needs to be with someone you trust the most."

His father spoke with a tinge of alarm, "Is he with you? Wait—you were bitten, and he's with you. Does that mean…"

Sebastian slowly curled his lips into a mocking grin. His father finally figured out the big mystery. He said lightly in a mocking, humorous tone, "Yeah, he's half-breed—part werewolf and human. He's from a group called the Barbaros Clan. For some bizarre reason, they are hunting him down, so he's in danger."

Sebastian's ears winced in pain from his father's thunderous tone, "What the heck did you say?! Did you say the Barbaros Clan?!"

Sebastian covered his left ear with his hand while massaging the stinging while pulling the phone away with his free hand. He could hear the shouts coming out of it. As the shouts slowly came to a short, sharp gasp, "What the hell did you get yourself into?!?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes and wondered what the big deal was. He asked curiously, "Have you heard of it?"

His father responded harshly, "Of course I have, you fool. Before the peace treaty, it was one of the most dangerous and vicious clans that lived in the early era. They would follow an ancient belief that power and strength are supreme above all else. The translation for 'Barbaros' is barbarian, and for good reasons."

"In the early eras, one of their first leaders descended into madness, unleashing mayhem on those who defied their ways. They would set an example for dissenters; they would slaughter the families of rebels—including children—to send a clear, brutal message to anyone who dared to oppose the clan."

Sebastian was hit by a wave of dizziness as he laid his palm against the surface glass to feel the chill over his hands. He lets out a light-hearted chuckle, "Father, I would love to hear these stories, but I'm running out of time. Would you take care of Atlas?"

Silence followed after his question. Then his father sighed deeply afterwards as if he was exhausted by the means. "Alright. I'll give him a fake name and passcard, so he can live a normal life as possible. Can he transform?"

Sebastian responded lightly, "No, which doesn't make sense. He wasn't born with a wolf, so he can't shapeshift."

His father lets out a light, curious hum, "How interesting. I've never heard of a werewolf who can't shapeshift."

As the conversation was coming close to an end, Sebastian warned his father; his tone carried a hint of desperation. "Father, I don't know how much time I have. Please hurry."

His father responds in a somber, sincere tone that eases Sebastian's worries slightly. "I'm coming."

Sebastian removed the phone from his ear and put it back into place. He walks out into the biting, cold air where Atlas is waiting outside the telephone booth.

Sebastian walks closer to him and lets out a cough into his hand. As soon as the cough went away, he told him, "I need to go to the bathroom. What about you?"

Atlas shrugged his shoulders carelessly and responded lightly, "I need to go to the bathroom as well. There's something important that I need to tell you."

That would make sense since they haven't taken care of their personal business in a while. Besides, he did promise to hear him out after he takes a nap, so he nods his head with a weary smirk, "Alright. Come on and tell me on the way."

They walked into the bathroom, which was eerily quiet. The stall doors were covered in rust, and dirty toilet paper littered the stained, grimy tiles.

The bathroom door closed with a high-pitched grating noise, similar to chipped nails scraping against the wall.

Sebastian walks toward the dirty sink and turns on the faucet. He splashed the cold water onto his hands to rid the little amount of blood in his hands and washed his face, which helped clear his foggy mind.

Sebastian was hit by a feeling of exhaustion, and it felt almost challenging to keep his body straight while standing. His hand reached out to grip the edge of the sink, and he took a deep inhale a couple of times.

Sebastian looked up in the mirror where he could see Atlas approaching him; a hesitant look flashed across his face before it disappeared quickly. Atlas took a deep breath as if he was nervous about something. He slowly lifted the hem of his shirt to the side where he could see the scars that run beneath the clothes he was wearing.

Sebastian asked with confusion, "What are you doing?"

Atlas responds as he tugs on the bottom of his lip, "Giving you my blood."

Sebastian turned around in his direction as his hip slouched against the sink casually. He crossed his arms and asked curiously, "Why would I drink your blood?"

Sebastian locked his gaze on his eyes, carefully watching for any hint of emotion that may allow him to understand the situation better.

Atlas gulped nervously, "I know you took blood from Miles. Don't even try to deny it. I saw the marks on his neck."

Atlas spoke quickly, stretching out his hand and gesturing toward his neck, and said, "I know you're thirsty. I want to offer you my blood."