The Blood Key

The gurgling screams echoed in his ears, a wet, hungry sound that mixed with the ‘thud-thud-thud’ of his family’s hurried footsteps. The cool sensation of vaporizing sweat and the thick stench of copper almost made Ahi dizzy with terror, but his grit kept him going.

He rushed upstairs, repressing the urge to look back. His mother, Tara, and his little sister, Kritika, were just ahead, a blur of motion in the dark. His father, Saanjh, was behind him.

They burst onto the roof and into the rain pelting like icy spears. Black clouds had engulfed the afternoon sky, accompanied by roaring thunder and a wind that howled. In the center of the terrace, a rescue helicopter sat, its rotors already spinning, its red and green lights slicing through the storm.

His mother’s wailing green eyes met his.Leave! Go!his look replied. She grabbed Kritika’s hand and ran through the puddles, leaving her son and husband behind.

“Ma’am, give me your hand!” a ranger in a fluorescent jacket shouted, reaching out to pull them in.

“Go!” Saanjh yelled, shoving Ahi forward.

Ahi dashed his way, scrambling into the cabin. He turned to see that his father had stayed at the terrace entrance, looking at him, smiling. His gaze was so fixed it felt like a physical embrace, a parting hug. The determination and pain that Ahi saw in his father’s eyes tore him apart.

“Saanjh! Come here!” Tara shrieked from inside.

The door wasn’t solid; it was an old-fashioned, double-sided sliding grille without any locking mechanism. Saanjh slid the two iron gates and clasped them together. He had anticipated it. He chose to hold the gate and ensure his family’s survival, rather than run and pray.

Suddenly, the grilles rattled violently as the horde slammed against them. They tried to slide the gates apart. Blood-stained, grasping hands punched through the widening gap while Saanjh struggled to secure the entrance.

“No! Saanjh, please!” Tara cried.

The helicopter’s engines screamed, and the craft began to lift, edging away from the immediate threat. Watching his mother crumble, Ahi’s throat ached, forcing these words out: “Ma... I’ll find you.”

He didn’t think. He didn’t plan. He just saw his father grab the iron as the horde smashed through it. Ahi lunged. He shoved past the ranger, ignoring the man’s shout, and threw himself out of the helicopter. He didn’t jump. He fell.

The world vanished into a blur of noise and rain. The moment he propelled himself out, he realized what he had committed. The roof was already fifteen feet below him. His mother’s mournful scream was a thin line in the air, and then the concrete roof hit him like a freight train.

He hit the roof hard, tucking his body by pure instinct and rolling on landing. Pain flared from his left ankle up his leg as his foot buckled on impact. His shoulder slammed into the floor, sending a jolt of pure agony through his upper body. He screamed, but the storm ate the sound.

His momentum carried him, scraping across the concrete toward the stairwell. Pushing off with his good leg, Ahi threw himself into the grilles, helping to shove the mass back. It bought a split second for Saanjh to rip free, and the horde surged back instantly like a tidal wave. The rear ranks drove the front line so violently into the metal that the sliding mechanism jammed under the pressure.

The danger was held at bay, momentarily. The helicopter was gone.

Saanjh collapsed, sliding down the wall.

“Papa? Papa, are you alright?” Ahi asked. He tried to stand, but his ankle gave way, sending him down to his knees.

“You fool...” his father roared, though his voice was tight with pain. “You absolute fool! What have you done?”

“I... I couldn’t leave you,” Ahi stammered, crawling toward him.

Saanjh was breathing in ragged, wet gasps. Ahi saw it then. The dark stain soaking his father’s white shirt wasn’t just rainwater. It was blood. It wasn’t a bite. A chunk of flesh was torn from his side, ripped away by the hands at the gate.

“What have you done, Ahi... why?” Saanjh gasped, his anger already dissolving into exhaustion.

“I get it... don’t talk. Save your strength.” Ahi’s hands shook. He avoided looking at the haunting sight on the other side of the gate while he ripped a part of his own T-shirt, pressing it against the wound. The blood soaked through it in no time.

“Ahi...” Saanjh’s voice was different. Thinner. “I am burning.”

“You are in shock, Papa. Just hold on.”

“No.” Saanjh grabbed his son’s wrist; his grip was surprisingly strong. “It’s a... a cold burn.”

A violent shiver wracked his body, his teeth chattering.

“Calm down, Papa! You are alright!” Ahi pleaded, his denial a wall against the obvious.

“No... Ahi.” Saanjh’s eyes bulged as his face flushed red; steam rose from his skin. Just when the veins in his neck protruded, his back arched off the wall. A raw groan, half-rage, half-pain, tore from his throat. His limbs started to tremble and seize, his muscles tightening into knots, terrifying Ahi.

He was turning. And he knew it.

Ahi watched, frozen in horror. The man, his father, was being erased. But Saanjh wasn’t gone. Not yet.

He looked at Ahi, and for the first time, Ahi saw tears in his father’s eyes. The trembling stopped. For one second, he was in control.

“I love you, son... I loved you all... and it hurts so much,” he said in a frail whisper.

“Papa...”

“Get... back!” Saanjh shoved Ahi away with a final burst of human strength.

With the last bit of consciousness left, Saanjh used the wall to heave himself to his feet. He staggered, a broken man fighting his own body with every step, and threw himself towards the boundary.

“Papa... wait! Stop!” He dragged himself forward.

A second later, from the street five stories below, Ahi heard a dull, squashing thud.