Tallahassee, United States
10:10 p.m., August 21, 2010
After showering, when most of the players had already left the locker room, Jason returned to the field alone.
The stands were almost empty.
A few employees collected abandoned cups, scraps of paper, and flags.
The stadium lights still illuminated the field, but without the roar of the crowd, everything seemed larger.
And quieter.
Jason walked to midfield and stopped on the Tigers logo.
For several seconds, he simply stood there.
The cool night wind brushed against his still-damp face.
He closed his eyes.
And the memories came.
His first practice.
The first time he missed an easy pass and heard the older players laugh.
His first victory.
His first humiliating defeat.
Todd protecting his left side like a wall.
The crowd chanting his name.
The coach telling him he had been born to lead.
The packed stands.
The lights.
The mud.
The sweat.
The pain throughout his body after every game.
All of it seemed so insignificant compared to the end of the world.
And yet it also seemed enormous.
Because it was his life.
The life he had built.
The life he might be about to lose.
At the entrance to the field, Todd appeared with Heather holding his arm.
She looked at Jason standing in the middle of the field and frowned.
“Is he all right?”
Todd didn’t immediately respond.
Heather stepped forward.
“Jason?”
Todd gently caught her arm, stopping her.
“Let him be.”
She looked at him in confusion.
“Todd…”
“I need to talk to him.”
Heather heard something in his voice.
Something far too serious for a simple conversation between friends after a game.
Slowly, she released his arm.
“All right.”
Todd nodded and walked onto the field alone.
Jason heard his footsteps approaching but didn’t turn around.
Todd stopped beside him and looked toward the empty stands.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Todd broke the silence.
“Spill it.”
Jason turned toward him.
Todd stood with his arms crossed.
“What are you hiding?”
Jason slowly released a breath.
He had rehearsed that conversation several times.
Even so, none of the versions seemed good enough.
“The videos from Georgia were real.”
Todd blinked.
“You brought me out here to talk about those cannibal videos?”
“They aren’t cannibals.”
Todd released a short, humorless laugh.
“Of course not.
Then what are they?”
Jason held his gaze.
“Dead people.”
Todd’s expression changed.
“Jason…”
“People who died and came back.”
Todd stood motionless for a second.
Then he pointed at him.
“Okay.
Very funny.
You almost had me.”
Jason didn’t smile.
Todd waited.
His smile gradually disappeared.
“You’re serious.”
Jason nodded.
“I am.”
The silence between them grew heavy.
In the distance, Heather remained near the field entrance, watching without being able to hear them.
Todd ran a hand through his still-wet hair.
“That’s insane.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
Todd stepped backward.
“That’s completely insane.”
“I thought so too.
Until I saw one with my own eyes.”
Todd stopped.
“Saw what?”
Jason swallowed hard.
“One of them.”
The words seemed to drain some of the color from Todd’s face.
“Melody and I broke into the hospital yesterday,” Jason continued.
Todd’s eyes widened.
“You did what?”
“Her mother was there, confined to an isolation ward with other researchers.”
Todd opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“They’re studying these things,” Jason continued.
“Trying to understand them.
Trying to find a cure.”
He looked down at the field.
“But they won’t succeed in time.”
Todd remained motionless.
The anger he had carried throughout the week began giving way to something else.
Fear.
“What do you mean, ‘in time’?”
Jason took a deep breath.
“I mean everything is going to collapse.
Hospitals.
Police.
The government.
Stores.
Roads.
Everything.”
Todd stared at his friend, searching for any sign that he was joking.
He found none.
“When?”
Jason hesitated.
“Within a few days.”
Todd released a nervous laugh.
“A few days?”
He pointed toward the field.
“Jason, we just finished playing an exhibition game.
People are eating hot dogs outside the stadium.
Heather is standing over there waiting for me.
My biggest concern today was getting you to stop acting like an idiot.”
His voice rose.
“And now you’re telling me the world is going to end in a few days?”
Jason lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
Todd took several deep breaths.
He appeared to be trying to organize thoughts that no longer fit inside his head.
Then something passed across his face.
A memory.
The locker-room speech.
The tears.
Jason’s failing voice.
The words.
Play as though it were the last game of your lives.
Todd slowly looked at him.
“That was why.”
Jason didn’t respond.
He didn’t need to.
Todd swallowed hard.
“When you said that before the game…
you really meant it.”
Jason clenched his fists.
“I did.”
Silence returned.
This time, it felt even heavier.
Todd looked toward the distant hospital, even though he couldn’t see it from there.
Less angry.
Almost childlike.
“Jason…”
He struggled to continue.
“What about my mom?”
Jason turned toward him.
Todd had gone pale.
“She’s at Saint Augustine Medical Center.”
The words hung between them.
Jason felt his chest tighten.
Saint Augustine wasn’t the same hospital where Eleanor was being held.
Melody’s mother had been taken to Tallahassee Central Hospital, where researchers, isolation protocols, and armed security were already in place.
But that didn’t make Todd’s situation any better.
If the outbreak reached the city’s hospitals, any building filled with sick and injured patients and exhausted doctors could become a trap.
For Todd, it was even worse.
Jason knew how close he was to his mother.
Everyone knew.
Todd used Jones—his mother’s maiden name—even though his father was named Philip Blake.
It wasn’t merely a choice of surname.
It was a silent declaration.
Todd might laugh, provoke people, and pretend that nothing affected him, but everything changed when it came to his mother.
She was the person who kept him going.
The only presence that made Todd seem less alone inside his own home.
Todd rubbed both hands over his face, struggling not to lose control.
“If everything collapses the way you’re saying…”
He swallowed hard.
“What happens to her?”
Jason didn’t immediately answer.
It was the question he feared most.
Because he had no good answer.
Not for Todd.
Not for anyone.
Saint Augustine Medical Center was on the opposite side of the city.
It wasn’t as large as Tallahassee Central Hospital, but it was still a hospital.
Filled with patients.
Filled with narrow corridors.
Filled with people too vulnerable to escape if something went wrong.
Jason looked at his best friend.
At the boy who always stood to his left.
Who always protected him from the hits Jason never saw coming.
For the first time that night, Jason didn’t pretend to be in control.
“I don’t know.”
Todd remained motionless.
Jason continued in a quieter voice.
“But I’ll try to find out.
And if there’s still a chance to get her out before everything gets worse…
I’ll help you.”
Todd stared at him for several seconds.
The anger remained.
So did the fear.
But now there was something else.
Desperation.
“You’d better not be lying to me.”
Jason held his gaze.
“I’ve never wanted to be wrong this badly in my entire life.”
Todd looked away toward the field.
The stadium lights still shone.
The victory was still fresh.
The thrill of the celebration should still have been there.
But everything had changed.
The last game of their lives might have already happened.
And neither of them knew how to celebrate it.
What Jason and Todd didn’t realize was that they weren’t completely alone.
High in the nearly empty stands, Robert Miller stood motionless among the shadows.
He hadn’t left after the game.
Jennifer had returned to the car a few minutes earlier, tired and emotional after their son’s victory.
Robert, however, had said that he wanted to look at the field for another moment.
In truth, he wanted to watch Jason.
Something had been wrong with his son since the beginning of the week.
The disappearances.
The lies.
The exhausted looks.
The conversations that stopped whenever someone approached.
The way Jason always seemed to be thinking about something no one else could see.
Robert didn’t hear everything.
He was too far away.
But a few words reached him, carried across the silence of the empty stadium.
Hospital.
Collapse.
Few days.
Saint Augustine.
Robert stood motionless.
The military instincts that had lain dormant for years awakened, cold and silent.
That wasn’t a conversation between ordinary teenagers.
It wasn’t about football.
It wasn’t about an argument between friends.
It was something far more serious.
At midfield, Todd rubbed both hands over his face, visibly shaken.
Jason looked tired.
Not physically tired.
It was a deeper kind of exhaustion.
The weight of a burden no fifteen-year-old boy should ever have to carry.
Robert tightened his grip on the cold railing.
For a moment, he considered walking down.
Interrupting the conversation.
Demanding answers right then and there.
But he didn’t.
That afternoon, he had promised himself that he would give his son a little normalcy before confronting him.
The conversation would happen.
Tomorrow.
And after what he had just heard, Robert was certain of one thing.
Jason wasn’t merely hiding a problem.
He was hiding a war.
Todd was still trying to process everything when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
The sound seemed far too loud in the silence of the empty field.
Jason looked at him.
Todd took a second to react, as though he had forgotten that the ordinary world still existed.
He pulled out the phone and stared at the screen.
Unknown number.
But the area code was familiar.
He frowned.
“Who is it?” Jason asked.
Todd didn’t immediately respond.
He answered the call.
“Hello?”
A man on the other end said something in a low voice.
Jason couldn’t hear him.
But he saw Todd’s expression change.
The anger disappeared.
The fear also seemed to recede for a moment, replaced by surprise.
“How did you get this number?”
The man responded.
Todd turned away and moved several steps farther from Jason.
It wasn’t far.
But it was enough to make it clear that the conversation wasn’t meant for him.
Jason remained where he was.
He didn’t try to listen.
Even so, several fragments escaped into the silence of the stadium.
“No…
I’m not with him.”
A pause.
Todd pressed the phone harder against his ear.
“My mom is in the hospital.”
Another pause.
This time, it lasted longer.
His expression hardened.
“How do you know that?”
Jason’s entire body became alert.
Todd glanced at him before looking away.
“No.
I don’t want to talk to my father.”
The response was firm.
Cold.
Almost bitter.
The man on the other end spoke for several more seconds.
Todd closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing.
“I don’t care what he wants.”
More silence.
The wind swept across the field, stirring the abandoned flags near the stands.
Jason watched without speaking.
There was something wrong with the conversation.
But because of the effect it had on him.
It was rare to see Todd so uncomfortable.
He could be irritable, impulsive, and even cruel at times.
But he rarely looked small.
At that moment, he did.
“I take care of her,” Todd said quietly.
“I always have.”
The voice on the phone seemed to soften.
Todd remained silent for several seconds.
Then he answered.
“I know.”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“I can’t talk right now.”
Another pause.
“Later.
I’ll call you later.”
Todd ended the call before the other person could respond again.
For several seconds, he stood with the phone in his hand.
Jason waited.
Finally, Todd put it back in his pocket.
“Who was it?”
Todd took a moment to answer.
“Family.”
The word left his mouth as though it tasted bitter.
Jason realized there was more behind it.
Much more.
But he didn’t push.
Not that night.
Todd looked across the empty field.
“He said my mother might not be safe at Saint Augustine.”
A chill ran through Jason.
“Does he work there?”
Todd shook his head.
“No.”
“Then how does he know?”
Todd didn’t answer.
He merely clenched his fists.
At last, he looked at Jason.
“You said you would help me if there was a chance to get my mother out of there.”
Jason nodded.
“I did.”
Todd took a deep breath.
“Then we might need to investigate sooner than you thought.”
Jason silently stared at his best friend.
Their victory on the field already seemed to belong to another life.
As the stadium lights began shutting off one by one, Todd realized that the game had ended.
But the worst part of the week was only beginning.
When Jason and Todd finally started walking toward the exit, Robert remained motionless for several more seconds.
Then he stepped backward and disappeared into the shadows of the stands.
Without drawing attention.
Without making a sound.
But carrying a firm decision with him.
The following day, Jason would tell him the truth.
Or Robert would drag every last piece of it out of him.
The drive home wasn’t triumphant.
There was no loud music in the car.
No excessive celebration.
No laughter about the night’s best plays.
The victory still existed, of course.
The final score remained etched in Jason’s mind, along with the roar of the crowd, the weight of his helmet, and his teammates embracing him after the game.
But now, sitting in the passenger seat, all of it seemed distant.
Almost like an old memory.
His entire body ached.
His shoulders throbbed from the hits.
His legs felt heavy.
An uncomfortable pain stabbed through his ribs whenever he took a deep breath.
Even so, none of that physical pain felt greater than the weight in his chest.
Robert drove in silence.
Jennifer had gone home earlier, leaving only the two of them in the car.
Father and son.
Neither of them mentioned the game.
Neither mentioned Todd.
Neither mentioned the conversation Robert had clearly wanted to have since that morning.
Jason rested his head against the cold window and watched the streetlights drift past.
As far as he knew, his conversation with Todd had happened far away from everyone else.
In the middle of an empty field.
Without witnesses.
Without adults nearby.
Without anyone listening.
He had no idea Robert had been in the stands.
He didn’t know his father had heard isolated words carried through the silent stadium.
Hospital.
Collapse.
Few days.
Saint Augustine.
Jason believed the secret was still safe.
But in the driver’s seat, Robert knew it wasn’t.
The radio remained off.
Only the low sound of the engine filled the space between them.
When they reached home, Robert parked in the garage and turned off the engine.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Jason knew his father wanted to say something.
Perhaps ask questions.
Perhaps demand answers.
Perhaps simply continue the conversation they had postponed since the beginning of the week.
But Robert merely unfastened his seat belt and opened the door.
“Let’s go inside.”
Jason nodded.
The lights inside the house were dim.
Jennifer had left a note in the kitchen saying she had gone to bed, but there was food in the refrigerator if Jason was hungry.
He read the note and felt a quiet ache in his heart.
He wasn’t hungry.
He was too tired even for that.
Robert stood near the stairs, watching his son.
Jason held the strap of his backpack in one hand.
“Dad…”
Robert looked at him.
For a moment, Jason considered telling him everything.
Right there.
In the silent kitchen.
Before his courage disappeared.
But the words didn’t come.
Not that night.
Robert seemed to understand.
“Go to bed, Jason.”
His voice was low.
Tired.
But not cold.
Jason slowly nodded.
“Good night, Dad.”
Robert waited a second before answering.
“Good night, son.”
Jason climbed the stairs with slow steps.
Every step seemed to draw a different pain from his body.
When he entered his bedroom, he dropped his backpack onto the floor and stood in the darkness for several moments.
The victory.
Todd.
Heather waiting in the distance.
Todd’s mother at Saint Augustine.
The hospital.
Eleanor.
Wildfire.
Everything spun through his mind at once.
Jason picked up the pocket watch from his nightstand and held it for several seconds.
The lion engraved in the silver reflected the faint light coming through the window.
He took a deep breath.
Then he returned the watch to its place, lay down despite his aching body, and stared at the ceiling.
It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overcome him.
But before he fell asleep, one final thought crossed his mind.
Tomorrow, there would be no more running away.
Tomorrow, Robert would demand the truth.
And Jason would have to decide how much of it he could still conceal.
Downstairs, however, Robert remained awake.
Standing in the darkened kitchen.
Thinking about the words he had heard without his son’s knowledge.
And to him, the next day’s conversation was no longer merely necessary.
It was inevitable.
I’m using AI to translate this story.
English is not my native language.
If you would prefer to read it without an AI translation, you can find the original Portuguese version on this same profile.