Contemplating Family Values

The kitchen filled with familiar aromas as his mother worked her usual dinner magic. Even on their tight budget, she could transform simple ingredients into meals that had once made Axel's mouth water. Tonight's offering was her signature meatloaf - a recipe passed down from his grandmother, tweaked over years of practice and necessity. The smell of seasoned beef, caramelized onions, and her secret blend of spices (which he now knew included a precise ratio of Worcestershire sauce to mustard powder) permeated the house.

But to his transformed senses, it was all wrong. The cooking process had rendered the meat into something dead and lifeless, stripped of the vital essence his new body craved. The seasoning that had once enhanced now only masked, turning what should be sustenance into a mockery of nourishment.

"Hope everyone's hungry," his mother called out, her voice carrying that forced cheerfulness she used when trying to maintain normalcy in abnormal times. "Axel, honey, could you set the table?"

He moved through the familiar routine with mechanical precision, laying out their mismatched plates and carefully avoiding the chipped edges of their second-hand glasses. The twins bounced around him like excited electrons, their endless energy seemingly unaffected by the day's emotional toll.

"Can I have the end piece?" Emma called dibs pre-emptively.

"No fair!" Lisa protested. "You had it last time!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Girls," their mother's warning tone cut through the brewing argument. "There are two end pieces. You can each have one."

Mike emerged from the garage, hands still bearing traces of motor oil despite his obvious attempt to clean up. "Smells good, Mom. Just like always."

The family settled around the table, falling into their usual seats by instinct. The empty chair where their father would sit during his occasional visits home seemed to draw everyone's attention briefly before they looked away. When was the last time he home?

His mother served generous portions, starting with Axel. "You must be starving, sweetheart. You must haven't eaten all day."

If she only knew. The memory of his last true meal rose unbidden - the warm, rich taste of fresh meat, the satisfaction of feeding his true hunger. He pushed the thought away as she placed a thick slice of meatloaf on his plate, accompanied by mashed potatoes and green beans.

"Thanks, Mom," he managed, forcing a smile. "Looks great."

The first bite was an exercise in willpower. The texture was wrong - too processed, too uniform. The temperature was wrong - neither properly cold like preserved meat nor warm with lingering life. The seasoning was wrong - artificial additions trying to mask the fundamental wrongness of cooked flesh.

But he chewed. Swallowed. Smiled.

"Perfect as always," he said, the lie coming easily. "Nobody makes meatloaf like you, Mom."

Her face lit up with genuine pleasure. "I added a little extra garlic this time. Can you taste it?"

He nodded, taking another bite to demonstrate his enthusiasm while his stomach roiled in protest. "Mmhmm. Really brings out the... flavor."

"Speaking of food," Mike interjected, "I grabbed some extra shifts at the garage. Old man says people are panic-maintaining their cars, wanting to make sure they can leave town if things get worse. Means overtime pay."

Their mother's face showed the familiar mix of pride and worry. "Just be careful. They still haven't caught whatever did... what happened at the school."

"Mom, I work in a garage," Mike grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "The most dangerous thing I face is Dave's attempts at break-room coffee."

"I have to work tomorrow too," their mother sighed. "The clinic's short-staffed, and with everything happening... people need care."

"But what about us?" Emma asked around a mouthful of potatoes.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," their mother corrected automatically. "And Tess will watch you, won't you, honey?"

Tess, who had been pushing food around her plate without eating, looked up. "Actually... Jenny and the girls are meeting up tomorrow for lunch. You know, to... to talk about everything. About Brad and the others."

Their mother's face softened with understanding. "Oh, sweetheart. Of course you need to be with your friends right now. Axel can watch the twins afterwards, can't you, honey?"

He nodded, wondering if they'd notice how the meatloaf sat untouched on his plate now, how he'd merely rearranged it to look eaten. "Sure, Mom. No problem."

"I don't need watching," Lisa declared. "I'm practically a teenager."

"You're twelve," Mike snorted.

"That's only one year from thirteen!"

"And thirteen is only one year from fourteen, but that doesn't make you fifteen," Emma pointed out with impeccable twelve-year-old logic.

The conversation drifted into familiar territory - the twins arguing their case for independence, Mike offering sarcastic commentary, their mother mediating with practiced patience. Tess remained unusually quiet, her phone hidden under the table as she presumably texted her friends.

Axel focused on maintaining his act, occasionally contributing appropriate responses while discretely disposing of small portions of food when no one was looking. The twins' rapid-fire chatter provided excellent cover for slipping bits of meatloaf into his napkin.

"Can we at least stay up late?" Emma negotiated. "Since there's no school?"

"Yeah, we could have a movie marathon!" Lisa added excitedly. "The good kind, not the boring ones Mike likes."

"Hey, 'The Godfather' is a classic!"

"It's in black and white!"

"It is NOT in black and white, you uncultured gremlin!"

"Children," their mother's voice held tired amusement. "Regular bedtime still applies. Just because there's no school doesn't mean we abandon all structure."

The meal continued, a parody of normalcy that only Axel seemed to recognize as performance art. His family acted out their usual roles, perhaps a bit more subdued but still fundamentally themselves. He wondered if they noticed how mechanical his own performance had become, how hollow his responses sounded to his enhanced hearing.

Later, after the dishes were done (he'd volunteered, knowing it would give him chances to dispose of his uneaten food), the family dispersed to their evening routines. Mike disappeared back to the garage, muttering about timing belts. Teresa retreated to her room, her phone already pressed to her ear. The twins argued over what movie to watch, their mother playing referee while folding laundry.

"I'll head out early tomorrow," his mother told him as she passed through the kitchen. "There's lunch money on the counter - make sure the girls eat something proper, not just sugar and chips."

"Got it covered," Axel assured her, noting how she seemed to have aged years in just days. The stress of recent events had deepened the lines around her eyes, added silver threads to her dark hair. Thanked to his enhanced sight, he picked up so many details now.

"And Axel?" She paused, looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite read yet. "I know you're not telling us everything about where you were that night. When you're ready to talk... I'm here."

For a moment, his carefully maintained façade cracked. The genuine concern in her voice hit something in him that he thought had died. But then the hunger stirred, reminding him of what he truly was now.

"Thanks, Mom," he managed. "I'm okay, really. Just... processing everything."

She nodded, accepting his response even though he could hear her heart rate elevate slightly - she knew he was holding back, but wouldn't push. Not yet.

The next morning arrived with the mechanical precision of routine. His mother left first, her scrubs fresh and her travel mug full of coffee that wouldn't last her whole shift. Mike followed shortly after, the engine's protests echoing down the street.

Teresa lasted approximately forty-seven minutes after their departure.

"Okay, here's the deal," she announced, already dressed in what he recognized as her "coping" outfit - the tight jeans and crop top she wore when she needed to feel in control. "Jenny's picking me up in five. The twins are your problem today."

"Weren't you supposed to watch them until lunch?" he asked, more out of curiosity than concern.

"Like you've got anything better to do?" She checked her makeup in her phone's camera. "Besides, I NEED this. Brad's still not answering his phone, and..."

Her voice caught slightly. Axel watched with detached interest as she fought back tears that would ruin her carefully applied mascara. He remembered Brad's final moments with perfect clarity - how the star quarterback's famous arm strength had meant nothing against his new power.

A car horn honked outside - Jenny's distinctive three-short-one-long signal.

"Just... don't let them burn the house down," Teresa called over her shoulder, already heading for the door. "And don't tell Mom!"

The door slammed behind her, leaving Axel alone with the twins and his growing hunger. He could hear them upstairs, their heartbeats strong and vital, pumping young blood through healthy veins...

He shook his head violently, forcing the thoughts away. No. Not them. Never them. He would need to feed soon, but not here. Not family.

"Hey guys," he called up the stairs, careful to keep his voice normal. "Who wants breakfast?"

The day stretched ahead, full of possibilities - and dangers. The hunger was rising, and somewhere in town, Agent Smith was hunting. But for now, he had two sisters to protect - from everything, including himself. That last part sounded harder than it seemed.

Emma's voice drifted down: "Can we have ice cream?"

"For breakfast?" Lisa added hopefully.

Axel smiled, and if the expression didn't quite reach his eyes, well... no one was looking closely enough to notice.

"Mom said proper food," he reminded them, already knowing he'd end up compromising. Some routines, at least, could stay the same - even if he no longer remembered why they mattered.

Their synchronized groan of disappointment echoed through the house, and for just a moment, everything felt almost normal. Almost human.

Almost.