Page 33 of Burning Love

Sophia nodded slowly. “Yeah. Here I am. And I’ve ruined your life in the process.” She exhaled shakily. “I was certain I was infected. I was sure you knew it, too. But then the fever never came. Nothing.” She finally met Alex’s eyes, something unreadable flickering in her expression. “They’re all so sure I’m immune? Do you think so, too? Is that even possible?”

Alex’s stomach twisted. Of course, they’d all thought about, talked about it. Immunity was more myth than reality, a desperate hope whispered in the dark corners of a dying world. She’d seen too many people cling to that belief, but when it came to it, she’d always witnessed the same thing. They bite you, you die, you turn—end of story. And yet… Sophia was still here.

“You didn’t ruin anything. And… I don’t know. Do you?” Alex asked carefully. “All I know is that I stayed with you that night and you were alive… more than alive.”

“I remember. I surprised myself that night. Listen, I don’t know,” Sophia admitted. “But I’m not scared of them the way I used to be. So that must mean something, right?” She glanced down at her hands, flexing them as if testing her strength. “I should be dead. I almost feel guilty. Why me? Why do I deserve to be here when my friends and probably my fam?—”

Alex put a hand on her arm to stop her. But she didn’t answer right away. The idea that Sophia was immune was a dangerous one—hope was a dangerous thing.

The first raindrops came like a murmur pattering softly against the broken sidewalk. Then, without warning, the sky tore open. Sheets of icy rain crashed down, turning dust to mud, pooling in the cracks of the road. The wind lashed against the two women with a brutal force. Within minutes, their clothes were soaked through, clinging to their skin like a second, merciless layer.

Sophia shivered violently, wrapping her arms around herself as they stumbled toward the nearest shelter—an old shed, its door barely in place, its interior gutted by time and scavengers. Alex dragged a metal rack toward the entrance, blocking most of the wind, but the rain still found its way in, dripping through cracks in the ceiling, pooling in uneven patches across the floor.

They crouched in the dimness, their breaths coming in quick, shuddering bursts. Cold sank deep into their bones, making every movement stiff and sluggish. Alex rubbed her hands together, then reached for Sophia’s, her fingers icy against Sophia’s equally frozen skin.

“If we don’t get dry soon, this could turn bad,” Alex murmured. She could hear it in Sophia’s breathing, the way it sounded shallow and tight. The dampness clung to them, pressing into their lungs, making every inhalation feel heavy.

Sophia nodded, teeth chattering. “Pneumonia,” she managed to say, and Alex’s stomach twisted. Out here, an illness like that was a death sentence. No medicine. No doctors. Just fever and weakness until there was nothing left.

“We’ll figure it out,” Alex said, though even she could hear the thin edge of uncertainty in her voice. She scanned the dark corners of the shed, searching for anything—old rags, discarded plastic, anything that could serve as insulation. They needed warmth. Fast.

Outside, the rain pounded relentlessly like a deafening, never-ending drumbeat.

Eventually, Sophia broke the silence. “How do you keep going like this, Alex? I mean, with everything. The soldiers. Me being bitten and finding me. Escaping. The fucking world we’re living in. I’m not sure I have it in me anymore.”

Alex’s heart tightened at the rawness of Sophia’s words. She stopped digging in the pile of garbage she had been searching through, her gaze turning to the woman beside her. It was as if she had started to lose sight of what they were fighting for.

“What do you mean? Please don’t say these things, Sophia,” Alex said quietly, stepping closer, her voice softer than usual.

Sophia’s gaze lifted slowly, locking onto hers with an intensity that felt like a challenge. “I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know how you keep pushing through. Every day is harder than the last. It’s like we’re just stuck in this cycle. No matter how far we run, nothing ever seems to get any better. I’d love it if I could spend one more day with Ellen glaring at me for not sieving the flour right. You know what I mean? Anything but this.”

The pain in those words hit Alex like a blow to the chest. She felt the weight of it, the crushing sense of inevitability that Sophia had so plainly voiced. She reached out, taking Sophia’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “I don’t know, either. Some days I feel like I can’t do it, either. But then I think about how far we’ve come. I think about you. We’ve made it this far. And yes, I actually miss Ellen a bit. I’d love to see that grumpy old bitch again. But her bread wasn’t that good, okay? So, come on. Chin up. Let’s get ourselves out of this mess.”

Sophia’s eyes softened at the touch, and a tremble ran through her lips. The walls around her began to crack, just a little, and Alex saw the vulnerability she had been hiding. “I don’t know if I can keep being strong. I’m not sure I have it in me.”

Alex closed the distance between them, lifting her other hand to gently stroke the side of Sophia’s face, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to be strong. Not with me. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex held Sophia’s gaze, her thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lessen, if only slightly. The silence between them wasn’t empty—it was filled with something unspoken yet deeply understood.

Then, a sound carried through the air. This time, it wasn’t the eerie shuffle of the undead. It was something that sounded so confusing. It was laughter. Light, genuine, unmistakably human laughter.

Alex stiffened, her hand instinctively reaching for her weapon. Sophia inhaled sharply, her body tense beside her. They stepped out into the rain and turned in the direction of the sound, their hearts pounding.

Beyond the road and the few sparse trees in front of them, nestled against the horizon, stood a handful of small, makeshift yurts and wooden buildings. Smoke curled lazily from a chimney, drifting into the dark rainclouds in soft, barely visible tendrils. Figures moved in the distance—people running with baskets in their hands, shouting to one another, holding up pieces of tarp and umbrellas to protect themselves from the downpour. It was a sight so lively and almost colorful that it didn’t seem real.

Sophia’s grip tightened around Alex’s hand. “Do you see that?” she said in a barely audible whimper, as if speaking too loudly might make it disappear. “Or am I imagining it? It’s that mirage thing people see in the desert. I read about that once. I’ve gone nuts.”

Alex nodded slowly. Relief, warm and overwhelming, surged through her. “No, babe. I see it.” The weight she had been carrying for so long—the fear, the exhaustion, the constant battle to survive—eased just a little.

As they stepped forward, the distant figures began to take shape. A man broke away from the group, his strides confident yet cautious as he approached. His voice carried across the space between them, filled with something Alex hadn’t heard from a stranger in a long time—genuine kindness.

“Hey there! You ladies need any help? You look like you might need to sit by the fire. We could maybe find you some dry clothes. We’ve got nettle and sorrel soup on the stove. Come on, come on. You look, well, if you don’t mind me saying… You look terrible.”

Sophia let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob. The rain stopped suddenly. Alex felt her chest tighten, then loosen, as if for the first time in forever, she could finally draw a deep breath.

Had they made it?

Maybe, just maybe.

---