If not for him, we might still be back home, happy, going out for barbecue, eating iron pot stewed goose.
Now everything was gone.
I closed the distance and brought my ice axe crashing down on him.
Clang!!!
The axes struck and a spark flared and died. Both of us fought with the strength of people who would kill or be killed.
The impact sent shockwaves through my arm. I twisted away from Professor Marshall's second swing.
Former teacher and student — now mortal enemies. We exchanged no words, only blows aimed at ending each other's lives.
Professor Marshall was nearly sixty and had already fought a White One not long ago. Though he'd used the cure early, he hadn't escaped unscathed.
I could see fresh blood seeping through the side of his jacket.
I was a ninety-pound woman who'd just endured a full day of exhaustion, terror, and grief.
We were evenly matched — neither could gain the upper hand.
But we were both fighting with no thought of survival.
I could see my own savage reflection in Professor Marshall's bloodshot eyes. We both knew the truth.
This had become a fight to the death.
Only one of us was walking out of here.
Professor Marshall's axe crashed into my arm. I bit back a scream and drove my boot into his knee.
He went down, wheezing like a bellows with a hole in it.
He lifted his head and glared at me, his lips twisting into a psychotic grin.
"Chloe, don't stand in my way. I've waited twenty years for this. You can't stop me."
"I can use Serena for the conversion. You walk out now, and we never cross paths again!"
I looked into his bloodshot eyes and felt my heart go cold with dread.
Professor Marshall was mad.
Or perhaps he'd lost his mind the moment he'd learned Sylvia had become a monster.
The old Professor Marshall had vanished along with Sylvia twenty years ago. What remained was a husk driven by obsession.
I leaned on my axe, panting. "What's the point?"
"She hasn't been Sylvia for a long time. Are you planning to take this thing home and live happily ever after? Have kids?"
My words hit his rawest nerve. He roared, "Shut up! This is Sylvia!"
He raised his axe and brought it down on my head. I threw myself sideways and smashed my axe into his wrist!
Professor Marshall howled in pain. His axe clanged to the ground.
He lunged and grabbed me, trying to lift me bodily. I hammered his back with my ice axe again and again.
A heavy thud — he body-slammed me to the ground. My skull cracked against the ice and my vision swam with stars. My axe scattered out of reach.
Professor Marshall climbed on top of me and wrapped his hands around my throat. His eyes bulged with madness. "Die!"
I clawed at his wrists with everything I had, then drove my knee hard into his groin.
He loosened his grip with a gasp, and I took the opening — I curled my fist and slammed it into his eye socket.
The blow knocked him sideways. He covered one eye and lunged for my throat again, but I rolled clear.
"Well, well!" Professor Marshall staggered to his feet, gasping. "I brought two type-B women just to be safe. If I'd known — if I'd known — I should have killed you the moment we walked in!"
I gave a bitter laugh and opened my mouth to respond — when the flesh mountain behind us shuddered.
Its folds began convulsing frantically. The umbilical cord connecting the Matriarch to the Conversion Pool shifted, pulling upward slightly.
It was about to detach!
No time!
I faked one direction, abandoned Professor Marshall, and sprinted for the Conversion Pool. Behind me, he roared, "Stop!"
Like hell I'd stop!
I accelerated, and just as I was about to reach the pool and smash the vial against its rim, Professor Marshall tackled me from behind, driving his axe blade into my back.
The sharp tip punched through my thick jacket. A jolt of searing pain shot through my back. The vial slipped from my hand and rolled across the ice with a clatter.
I stretched to grab it, but it was useless — I watched helplessly as it rolled farther and farther away.
Professor Marshall came up behind me, panting like a dying cur.
He planted his boot on my hand and ground it in, then spat on my head.
"Damn it. Almost let you ruin it, you little bitch."
My fingers screaming, even through the glove, I let out a muffled groan.
Professor Marshall gave a hoarse laugh, grabbed my hair, and shoved my face toward the Conversion Pool. I twisted to look at him.
"Marshall. Marcus is dead. Do you really feel nothing?"
Professor Marshall hesitated for a fraction of a second, then his expression hardened. "That was his fate."
Marcus had been Professor Marshall's favorite student. The professor had said countless times that he wished he had a son like him.
When Professor Marshall moved, Marcus had refused to let him hire movers. He'd spent two days hauling boxes up and down stairs, settling everything perfectly.
Professor Marshall had looked out for him — found him work, set him up on dates.
But now Marcus's death was, to him, an insignificant detail.
He called it fate.
As if Marcus had been no more important than a stray cat or dog.
Was freezing to death in this godforsaken wasteland really Marcus's fate?
I clenched my jaw until I tasted iron.
Professor Marshall said, his voice hoarse:
"People die eventually. You can keep Serena company down here."
"You two are better than Sylvia. She's been here alone for twenty years. At least you'll have each other. I'd say I've been more than generous."
A wave of nausea rolled through me. I closed my eyes and said nothing.
Convinced I was finished, Professor Marshall dragged me toward the Conversion Pool like a sack of meat.
The foul liquid grew closer and closer. An inch before my face would have touched it, my eyes snapped open. I drove my left hand — still gripping Marcus's ice axe, the one I'd hidden inside my jacket — straight at Professor Marshall's skull.
He twisted too late. The axe struck his shoulder.
The blood vessels in his eyes were like writhing worms, ready to burst through the skin.
Professor Marshall wheezed, then seized my hair with renewed force. His grip tightened until my scalp screamed.
I'm done, I thought.
Marcus, you and your wonderful afterlife protection — it's not working!
Some guardian angel! Useless in life, useless in death!
"I've changed my mind. You can skip the conversion — just die here."
Professor Marshall yanked the axe from his shoulder and brought it down toward me with no expression.
I squeezed my eyes shut in despair.
A thunderous crack — the flesh mountain convulsed violently, emitting a shriek of agony. The umbilical cord lifted, as if about to detach!
But the cord twisted and pulled, unable to break free.
As if something beneath was gripping it tight.
In an instant, the flesh mountain swelled — its dense folds stretched until they were nearly translucent, revealing blue-white tumors clearly visible beneath.
Then it rapidly deflated.
The entire mountain shrank by a third. White skin cascaded in layers to the ground, and the tumors turned dry and shriveled.
Professor Marshall's assault stopped. His face twisted with panic.
He released me and ran to the flesh mountain, shouting:
"Sylvia! Sylvia, what's wrong!"
The mountain offered no response. After a long moment, the dense white folds shifted and pressed together, and clusters of tumors coalesced into long, thin tentacles that whipped the air, sloughing off chunks of flesh.
Professor Marshall's face crumpled with distress. He smacked his own head in anguish, then suddenly had a revelation:
"Sylvia, do you need to consume energy to detach?!"
He dragged me over and flung me down in front of the flesh mountain. "Eat! Eat her, and I'll take you home."
The impact on my back wound made my vision go black!
The mountain seemed to understand. It stopped battering the ice and extended its tentacles toward us.
I watched the tentacles approach with utter hopelessness.
So this was it — I was going to become part of that monster?
Was Marcus's guardian spirit only going to kick in after I was dead? Or did he want company in the afterlife?
Professor Marshall's face was a grotesque mixture of anxiety, joy, and desperation.
The tentacles descended slowly, paused above me — apparently deciding I lacked vitality — and then turned toward Professor Marshall.
Professor Marshall's eyes went wide.