The Alpha's Darkest Fate

Jillian lay on the makeshift bed in the small motel room, staring at the ceiling. The faint hum of the air conditioner was the only sound that broke the oppressive silence of the world outside. Tom's slow breathing beside her provided a strange comfort amidst the chaos. It had been six days since the disaster-six days since the world as they knew it had collapsed. The world they had once taken for granted now felt like a distant memory, a dream that faded with every passing hour.

She squeezed his hand, the warmth of his skin grounding her in the present. Tom shifted slightly, but neither of them spoke. They were both lost in their thoughts, contemplating a reality that seemed to grow darker with each day. It was a strange thing, this quiet companionship they had developed, born from necessity but now something more. The silence between them wasn't awkward; it was a shared understanding that words couldn't express.

After a long while, Jillian reached for the remote control and turned on the TV. The familiar comfort of a rerun of Murder, She Wrote flickered on the screen, a small beacon of normalcy in a world that had lost so much. They watched without saying a word, the unspoken bond between them deepening as they lost themselves in the fictional world of Jessica Fletcher's mysteries. For a brief moment, it was as though nothing had changed. No apocalypse. No wrecked cities. No deaths.

The sound of sirens in the background of the TV episode felt almost out of place, but Jillian couldn't bring herself to turn the TV off. They needed this-this moment of distraction, of pretending that things weren't falling apart around them. Tom sat up and stretched, breaking the spell of their brief escape. His face, once youthful and carefree, now carried the weight of someone who had seen too much.

"Code Black," he muttered, a small, tired smile curling at the corners of his lips. "They used to say that when there was a full trauma bay. I remember the first time I heard it-intern year. It was like the world was collapsing around you, and you were the one holding it together. Except, you never felt like you were."

Jillian glanced at him, her brow furrowing. "You didn't like it?"

"No," he answered simply, his eyes darkening. "I loved it, at first. The adrenaline, the feeling of being part of something bigger. But it was always the same-the constant cycle of trying to save lives and watching them slip away. I didn't want to do it anymore."

He paused for a moment, as though deciding whether to continue. Jillian didn't rush him. The weight of his words hung in the air, unspoken but understood. She waited.

"I wanted to be an OB-GYN," Tom finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to bring life into the world, instead of just watching it... leave it. I practiced at a fertility clinic for a while. You can't imagine the joy of delivering a baby for a couple who had been trying for years and thought it would never happen. There was something beautiful about it. Something real."

Jillian nodded slowly, her heart aching for him. She could see the pain in his eyes, the unhealed wounds from a past he had left behind. His decision to become a fertility specialist made sense, given everything they had lost. In this new world, where death was a constant companion, the idea of creating life felt like a distant, impossible dream.

But then Tom's smile faded, and his eyes darkened once more. "And now... that's gone too. All those children. The couples I helped. It's all... swallowed up by this darkness." His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, the weight of his words settling between them.

Jillian felt a lump form in her throat. She knew exactly what he meant. The darkness had swept across the world with a ferocity they had never imagined. It wasn't just the physical destruction that haunted them-it was the dreams, the plans, the lives that had been cut short without warning. She could still hear the screams of the people she had lost, the faces of those who had fallen before them. It haunted her, too.

"Why were we the ones to survive?" Jillian asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did we make it through when so many didn't?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered. Tom didn't have an answer, and neither did she. Neither of them could explain why they were here, when others had fallen. It was the question that kept her up at night, the question that gnawed at her insides like an itch she couldn't scratch. Why them? Why now?

A dark cloud moved across the sky outside the window, blocking the faint light of the setting sun. It cast a shadow across the room, a stark reminder of the world outside. Jillian shivered, despite the warmth of the room. The world felt colder somehow, even in the face of Tom's comforting presence. She wanted to say something-anything-to break the silence, but the words escaped her. Instead, they simply lay there together, holding hands as the darkness outside mirrored the growing unease within her.

On the sixth day, when the signs of infection in Tom's wound had finally disappeared, they made a decision to get back on the road. There was no time to linger, no time to waste. They had to keep moving, keep looking for supplies. The world outside was too dangerous, too unpredictable to stay in one place for too long.

Jillian stood and stretched, feeling the stiffness in her body. "I made an excellent nurse," she joked, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I should've become a nurse instead of a lawyer."

Tom chuckled, but there was a touch of sadness in his laugh. "As long as you don't give all your patients the cuddling that you..."

He halted abruptly, his eyes locking with hers. Jillian wondered if he was worried about the growing closeness between them. She could feel it, too-the pull between them, the way her heart raced whenever he was near. It wasn't just the need for survival that kept them together. It was something more. Something she wasn't quite ready to admit, even to herself.

Instead of answering, she shrugged and glanced out the window. "We need groceries," she said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "We've just about used up all our supplies. I didn't want to leave you while you were sick."

Tom smiled faintly. "I wondered why we had soup for lunch and dinner last night." He paused, then added, "Let's pack up and go find a grocery store. Or better yet, a Target. We can get groceries, a new tent, sleeping bags... all of it."

Jillian nodded, feeling a flicker of relief at the thought of some normalcy, however fleeting. It was strange, the things she found herself longing for now-things she had once taken for granted, like a decent meal, clean clothes, a place to sleep without fear.

They quickly packed their belongings, the routine of it bringing a small sense of stability in a world that had lost all sense of order. Tom's eyes scanned the room one last time before he grabbed the keys to the Jeep. "We're almost out of gas," Jillian muttered, eyeing the fuel gauge.

"We could get a new car full of gas like we did before," Tom suggested. "But I like the Jeep. It holds our supplies well, and it's better for getting around the wrecks than most other cars. I know we'll need to get a new one eventually, but let's make this one last."

Jillian nodded. "Do you think we can get gas here?"

"If we can find an all-night gas station," Tom replied. "They might not have shut off the pumps yet. And your credit card should still work. We could use mine, except they don't issue credit cards in prison."

Jillian grinned at his dry humor. "You know, you're not the only one who's had to adapt to new circumstances. A woman's gotta make a living somehow."

They laughed together, the sound a rare and precious thing in this new world. But soon, their laughter faded as they walked out into the bleak silence of the outside world, ready to face whatever came next.