Chapter eight

While the group was out on the supply run, Dr. Jenner remained in the lab, his focus entirely on the samples he had taken from Murphy. The sterile, dimly lit environment hummed with the quiet whir of machines, but Jenner's thoughts were anything but calm. The vial of Murphy's blood rested in a centrifuge, spinning as he reviewed the data that was already coming in.

His tired eyes narrowed as he examined the screen. Murphy's blood showed an anomaly—a complete resistance to the Wildfire Virus. It wasn't just immunity; his blood actively destroyed the virus upon contact. Jenner's heart raced as he scribbled notes in his worn notebook.

"It's true," he whispered to himself. "He's immune."

Jacqui entered the lab quietly, her footsteps hesitant as she approached. Her kind, tired eyes watched Jenner with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "Dr. Jenner?" she asked softly, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. "What's going on? You've been in here since they left."

Jenner turned to her, his expression intense. "Murphy's blood… it's remarkable. It's not just resistant to the virus—it's destructive to it. If I can isolate the properties responsible for this, I might be able to create a cure."

Jacqui's eyes widened, hope mingling with fear on her face. "You mean… we could stop this? Stop all of it?"

Jenner nodded, though his brow furrowed. "Potentially. But it's not guaranteed. We don't have time for proper testing or refinement. Any cure I create now would be experimental at best."

As he spoke, Jim entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate. His pale face and the sheen of sweat on his forehead betrayed his condition. He leaned against the doorway for support, his gaze heavy but resolute.

"Dr. Jenner," Jim said, his voice rasping but firm. "I'll do it. I'll be your test subject."

Jacqui's head snapped toward Jim, her expression stricken. "Jim, no… you don't have to do this."

Jim shook his head, stepping further into the room. "I don't have a choice. I was bitten. I don't have long. If this doesn't work, I'm dead anyway. But if it does… maybe I can help save everyone."

Jenner's eyes softened with a mixture of admiration and sadness. "Jim, I… I think I can save you. I should be able to create a cure with Murphy's blood. But I can't guarantee it will work. There are risks."

Jim met Jenner's gaze, his resolve unshaken. "Risks or not, I'm doing this. I won't sit here and wait to turn into one of those things."

Jacqui's hands trembled as she looked between Jim and Jenner. Her voice was hesitant but steady. "If Jim's willing to do it, I'll volunteer too. If the cure works, I'll be helping save the world. If it doesn't…" She took a deep breath. "At least it will be quick and painless."

Jenner stared at her, the weight of her words pressing heavily on him. He saw no fear in her eyes—only determination. "You're sure?" he asked quietly.

Jacqui nodded. "I'm sure."

Jenner's shoulders sagged slightly as he nodded in return. "Alright. Let's do this."

The lab was bathed in a cold, sterile light as Jenner prepared the serum. His hands moved with practiced precision, but the tension in his expression betrayed his unease. He drew the serum into a syringe, the clear liquid shimmering faintly.

Jim sat on a metal stool, his breathing labored but steady. "Let's get this over with," he said, his voice tinged with both resolve and weariness.

Jenner approached him, his expression both clinical and compassionate. "This might sting a little," he said softly.

Jim chuckled weakly. "Pretty sure I can handle it."

The needle slid into Jim's arm, and Jenner slowly depressed the plunger. Jacqui watched with wide eyes, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as if in prayer. When Jenner withdrew the syringe, Jim leaned back, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"How do you feel?" Jenner asked, his voice low.

Jim closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing. "A little warm… but nothing else so far."

Jenner nodded, turning his attention to Jacqui. "Your turn."

Jacqui stepped forward, her expression calm but determined. She rolled up her sleeve and extended her arm. "Do it," she said, her voice steady.

Jenner repeated the process, injecting the serum into Jacqui's arm. She winced slightly but remained composed. "What should I expect?" she asked.

"Hopefully nothing," Jenner replied. "At least not yet. The serum needs time to work."

As Jacqui returned to her seat, Jenner hesitated. He glanced at the remaining serum and then at his own arm. The room fell silent as he considered his next move.

"What are you doing?" Jacqui asked, her voice tinged with alarm.

"We don't have time," Jenner said, his tone resolute. "If this works, we need to be sure. I'm going to test it on myself."

Jim's eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"Completely," Jenner replied. He prepared another syringe, injecting the serum into his own arm without hesitation. His face remained impassive, but the slight tremor in his hands betrayed his anxiety.

The three sat in silence, the weight of their decision settling over them. Jenner broke the quiet, his voice soft but steady. "While we wait, I'll share what I've learned about the virus."

Jacqui leaned forward, her expression intent. "What do you know?"

Jenner rubbed his temple, exhaustion etched into his features. "We call it the Wildfire Virus. It doesn't just kill its host; it reanimates them. But here's the horrifying part—everyone's already infected. It's in the air, the water, everywhere. The bite isn't what turns you. It's death itself. That's why the serum is so important. If it works, it might stop the process entirely."

Jacqui's face paled, but she nodded. "Then we have to make this work."

Jim's expression hardened with determination. "No matter what it takes."

The minutes stretched into hours, the silence in the lab broken only by the hum of machines. Jenner monitored their vitals closely, his own pulse quickening with anticipation. Finally, Jim's fever began to subside, his breathing becoming less labored.

"It's working," Jenner murmured, a flicker of hope lighting his face.

Jacqui's expression brightened, her hands gripping the edge of the table. "Are you sure?"

Jim nodded weakly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I feel… better. It's working."

Jenner exhaled slowly, relief washing over him. "We're not out of the woods yet, but this is a good sign. A very good sign."

The tension in the room began to ease, replaced by a cautious optimism. For the first time in what felt like forever, they had hope—a fragile, precious hope that maybe, just maybe, the nightmare could end.