I stare hard at the object in front of me, as if the harder I stare, the more it will come to make sense to me.

It doesn't help.

The ground looks as if it's been peeled back haphazardly around a hulking black mass in the center. It exudes a kind of aura that makes me want to go numb yet pulls me in, all at the same time. I slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans, feeling the warmth of my legs through the fabric, and will myself not to do anything rash.

Elodie waves Jayne, Dev, and Sheila over without looking back, half paralyzed with fascination. I would be lying if I said that I'm not just as fascinated. Leaving Elodie where she stands, I take a step forward and feel a rewarding boost of adrenaline course through my system.

I take another step and feel my heart begin to thump in my chest. The force of my heartbeat pushes erratically in my fingertips and drums into my head like a racehorse tailing another just a few feet before the finish line.

It doesn't occur to me that the exhilaration I'm feeling might not be mine.

It doesn't occur to me until I'm right in front of the Hyst, and I feel the overwhelming urge to, in the words of Quentin, let go.

His last words to me, if I can remember correctly, were, "You can let go when you find it."

Well, I found it.

But what did he mean?

"Don't touch it!"

My hand is suddenly yanked backward with the force of two gorillas on steroids. I hiss in complaint, "I wasn't going to touch it!" I carefully try to massage some life back into my wrist.

"Well," Elodie narrows her eyes slightly, "Your finger was two centimeters away from it."

I shrug and turn back to face the object, which in some way seems to be alive. The black, boulder-like lump in the center is perforated with hundreds of tiny holes. Big chunks of the rock are evidently missing, and yet, the boulder is almost twice my size, reaching almost to the ceiling of the tunnel. A white streak runs down the belly and sides of the rock, looking partially like melted wax.

Elodie interrupts my thoughts, muttering, "It's a hard water stain."

Most of the surface area of the rock is engulfed in the sediment that water had left behind when it dried. Water still drips steadily downwards on the rock, following the grain of the water stains.

Sheila hums contemplatively, inspecting the rock with laser sharp eyes. "Where do you think this water feeds into?" she gestures to the stream of water flowing around our feet, "Is it drinking water?"

Moby raises his eyebrows and quirks his mouth sideways, as if impressed. "Are you saying that the virus was spread through the water?"

With an uncertain grunt, she lifts her shoulders, "Even if it does have a hand in spreading the virus, this water can't go too far. It would cover just this area. How would it have spread to other regions? Are there more of these Hyst things?" She tugs at her hair agitatedly as question after question spills out. "Are there any factors, other than stress, that can activate this virus that's been dormant in half our population?"

The downpour of questions continue, and I tune myself out, instead focusing on the boulder. I have no doubt that it's what carried the virus into Earth safely, which means that the material was built to withstand the heat of the collision of Earth into the planet Theia. The more I speculate, the more I begin to wonder--what does it feel like?

What are you waiting for? Let go! Touch it already!

Quentin's presence pushes its way back into my mind, but I find it more disconcerting than relieving. He'd been absent for so long, so why is he here now?

Quentin: Yes, I know, I'm sorry I wasn't with you.

I wait for him to continue with at least some sort of explanation and get none.

Quentin: Well, go on! This rock is a chunk from another planet entirely! Don't tell me you aren't curious.

I want to deny it, but the truth is, I really do want to know what it feels like. It's more than just the peculiar look of the structure--it's the way it draws me in with highs of adrenaline, and the intoxicating lure of mystery. There is not one single soul on this planet that has ever seen such an entity, and it is quite possibly the carrier of a virus that might just be the end of the human race as we know it. I want to know everything about it, and then I want to destroy it.

I reach forward gingerly, slowly at first, and stop advancing with just an inch of space between my thumb and the glistening surface of the Hyst.

Quentin: You're almost there.

With Quentin's last bit of encouragement, I press the pad of my thumb firmly onto the porous surface. A small part of me deflates when nothing happens, and realize that I'd been expecting something to happen. Anything, really. But the ground doesn't shake, and the Hyst doesn't burst out into song. It just stands stoic and silent, looming over me like a disappointed big sister.

"Elie," Elodie's voice contains barely restrained panic, "What did you do?"

I didn't do anything, I try to tell her, but no sound makes it out of my mouth. I feel drained all of a sudden.

"Why is it humming?" her voice lowers towards the end as if she doesn't want the Hyst to hear that we're talking about it, which is ridiculous.

I don't even try to answer this time and just try to regain my bearings as my vision begins to fade and the ground beneath me begins to tip. What little energy I have left is sapped, and I lean against the rock for support. I feel a final tug and my hands fall back away from the Hyst.

Elodie's iron grip encloses around my arm and guides me backward, wrapping around my shoulders.

The first thing that becomes obvious to me is that I've lost something, because I feel oddly empty, even with Elodie beside me. I feel uprooted, like loose dirt without roots to keep everything together. In some ways, I feel liberated.

"My goodness, it's good to be back. I never thought we'd find this place."

I jump at the familiar voice and all blood drains from my face as I realize who it belongs to.

"Quentin?" I respond hesitantly, scrambling back from the boulder, sure that his speech is somehow being transmitted through it.

"Yep, you guessed it! And by now, I'm sure you've guessed that my real name isn't Quentin." His voice sloshes emptily through my ears, sounding all too loud in spaces outside of my skull.

I glance back towards Elodie, asking with my eyes for her to confirm that she's hearing this too. She purses her lips and offers a quick, terse nod.

My head spins and my thoughts race, jumping back to innocent, simple looking questions, that haven't been answered; why is it that Quentin spoke to me when he is the virus, the thing that's trying to kill everyone? Why did he help me, when he has nothing to gain? After all, viruses aren't even considered living--they don't have morals. And if he's the virus that has infected me, then how is he here, talking to not just me, but to Elodie, Moby, Sheila, and Dev. He's inside my body, not theirs.

"Oh, Elie. You don't get it, do you?"

I clamp down on my lip to bite back a curse, completely at a loss on what needs to be said.

Elodie's hand squeezes my shoulder and her assured gaze meets mine, infallible and sound, relaxing my nerves to a degree.

Quentin starts up again, sounding radically different than the version of him I'd come to know in my head. "I am the embodiment of this virus--I am its consciousness, its only form of order, the rules it must abide by. I am its creator, and I am older than your puny, moronic, human mind can possibly imagine. You see, I could have just died when my time came. But I had the option to live through my invention. This virus that I created was forged in order to help my people live on even when our planet can no longer sustain us. But the depressing part was that I would die far before the decline of our planet--I wouldn't get to see the results of my life's work or the future ahead of my kin. So I chose to be the virus, to live on. I stayed dormant for years--too many years, until my people needed me. They need me now. I will not fail them. This virus is foolproof. After all, I am the virus. No one has ever beaten me."

A tense bubble of silence expands over our heads, and Sheila is angry enough to have the courage to break it. "No one has ever beaten you?" her voice raises in pitch significantly, yet it somehow doesn't make her tone sound any less threatening. "That is the most bullshit I've heard in a while. You mean to tell me that you've never been beaten in a game, be it checkers or badminton?"

"Neither of those games exist on my planet." I grimace at the venom laced in Quentin's tone, and Elodie gives Sheila a warning look, mouthing at Sheila to calm down.

"Yeah, tell your friend to respect her elders while you're at it," Quentin snarls.

Both Elodie and Sheila's expressions turn to ice. And this time, it's Elodie that breaks the silence, "So, you've never been beat, huh? Are you saying that your mother has never once kicked your ass or beaten some sense into you? Because it seems that even with a billion years of life experience under your belt, you're still a stuck-up, soul-sucking, punk child, hellbent on taking over the universe."

A chilling laugh erupts into the echoing cavern, bouncing unnervingly from wall to wall. "There only is one way to beat me. To beat me, you have to kill me. It's as simple as that. And I'm still alive. To this day, no one has killed me. Not in a billion years."

Elodie squares up as if readying herself for a fight, and her hand slips off my shoulder. "Then come on out, you chicken. Only failures would hide behind a microscopic organism in the face of a puny, moronic, teenage girl."

"Little girl, you really are an idiot. This virus--one that lies dormant in every single one of you, was designed to take over your body and kill you. I could go in there and make your fist collide with your face. I could make you murder your friends if I wanted to."

This time, it's Sheila that's giving Elodie the warning look. I might have told her to stop antagonizing Quentin, but the firm set of her jaw and the cool focus in her eyes tells me that she has a plan. And this plan might be the best bet we have. I try to piece it all together, hoping to get an idea of what she has in mind. To beat me, you have to kill me. The sentence vibrates in my head. How would we go about killing Quentin if he doesn't have a body? Elodie gives no hint as to what she plans to do. A slight tremor in her hand is the only indication of her feelings.

With a toss of her head, Elodie says one word.

She says one word that sparks an explosion. "Coward."

In a matter of seconds, Elodie goes ramrod straight, her eyes glaze over, and her hand stills.

Suddenly, the realization hits me with painful clarity and my heart seizes: To beat me, you have to kill me.

Elodie has given Quentin a body and has given us a final opportunity to end it once and for all.

***

Author's Note:

So sorry I'm late, everyone. You guys deserve better :(

I swear I will update on time next week! Pinky promise with a cherry on top!

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