Elias had no time to think. The bony hand pushed aside the branches at the entrance, and a guttural growl filled the cave like a sick echo. The figure crawled in, half-crouched, its body twisted with filth and scars. It was the same savage as before, or maybe another; it didn't matter. Its eyes gleamed with animal urgency, teeth bared in a grimace that wasn't a smile or a threat, but something worse.
Elias gripped the rusty knife, backing up until his back hit the cave wall. There was no escape. The pool of water was to one side, the piled rocks to the other. If he wanted out, he'd have to go through that thing. And he wasn't going to let it gut him like the bones he'd seen at the camp.
"Stay there," he said, more out of instinct than hope. His voice shook, but his hand didn't. He raised the knife, the blade catching a glint of moonlight slipping through the entrance. "Don't make me do this."
The savage didn't answer. It just growled, a wet sound that seemed to come from its chest. It took a step forward, nails scraping the rock as if testing the ground. Elias saw the tense muscles under the dirty skin, the ribs sticking out like bars. That thing was hungry. And he was dinner.
He didn't wait. When the savage lunged, Elias ducked and rolled to one side, the knife slicing the air. He missed, but gained space. The thing crashed into the wall, growling in frustration, and turned toward him with a speed that didn't seem human. Elias kicked a loose rock, sending it into its face. The impact stunned it, just for a second, but it was enough.
Elias jumped, driving the knife into the savage's shoulder. The blade sank with a crunch, like cutting rotten wood. The thing didn't scream, didn't back off. Instead, it spun and grabbed him by the shirt, nails tearing into his chest. Elias yelled, more from rage than pain, and pushed with all his weight, knocking it to the ground.
They rolled across the cave, a tangle of blows and gasps. The savage was strong, stronger than it looked, but Elias was smart. He seized a moment, when the thing tried to bite him, to slam its head against a rock. Once, twice. The growl turned into a whimper, and the body went limp beneath him.
Elias pulled back, panting, the knife still in his hand, now slippery with blood. The thing was still alive, writhing weakly on the ground, eyes fixed on him. It wasn't hate he saw in them. It was hunger. A hunger that didn't end even with pain.
He couldn't leave it like that. If he let it go, it would come back. Or draw others. Elias knew what he had to do, though the thought turned his stomach. He knelt beside the savage, ignoring the weak growls. With a quick motion, he cut the tendons in its wrists, one by one. Blood gushed, black in the dim light, but Elias didn't hesitate. He did the same to its ankles, the blade tearing through flesh and bone with a sound he'd never forget.
The savage writhed, but it couldn't move. It couldn't chase him. Elias wiped the sweat from his forehead, his heart still racing. He remembered something he'd seen in a documentary, or maybe María had told him: mud could close wounds, stop the bleeding. It wasn't a cure, but it would work for now. He ran outside, grabbed a handful of wet dirt mixed with mud, and came back. He smeared the savage's wounds with the mud, pressing until the blood stopped flowing. He didn't want it to die. Not yet.
"Talk," Elias said, leaning over it, the knife inches from its face. "What are you? What's happening on this island?"
The savage only growled, its lips trembling as if trying to form words. But they weren't words. Just broken, animal sounds. Elias shook it, frustrated, adrenaline burning through his veins.
"Talk, damn it!" he shouted. "Why are you chasing me? What do you want from me?"
Nothing. Just growls, weaker each time. Elias sat on the savage's chest, pinning its shoulders with his knees. He needed answers. He needed to understand. But then, in a quick motion, the thing raised its head, and its teeth snapped shut millimeters from Elias's hand. Elias jerked back by instinct, falling backward, the knife slipping to the ground.
His heart skipped. It wasn't just an attack. It was hunger. That thing didn't want to kill him out of hate or fear. It wanted to eat him. Alive, if it could. Elias scrambled for the knife, grabbing it, as the truth cut through his mind like a knife of its own.
Cannibalism. It wasn't just a lost madman. This island was full of them, humans turned into something worse. They weren't zombies, not like in the movies. They were people, or had been, reduced to instinct, to teeth and claws. The thought hit him harder than the fight. The bones at the camp, the bitten skull, the smell of rotting flesh. It all fit.
Elias stood, looking at the savage writhing on the ground, covered in mud and blood. He no longer saw it as a man. It was proof, a warning of what this island could do. Of what it could do to him if he stayed too long.
"Doesn't matter," he muttered, more to himself than to the thing. "Doesn't matter what you are. I'm not sticking around to find out."
He wanted to escape. Not just from the cave, not just from that monster. From the whole island. The currents, the growls, the whisper still circling his head—none of it mattered. He'd find a way. He always did. María used to laugh at his stubbornness, saying he could get out of any mess if he set his mind to it. For the first time in a long time, he hoped she was right.
He approached the entrance, checking the branch curtain. Everything was still outside, but the rotting smell lingered, stuck to the air like a curse. He was going to reinforce the entrance, rest a bit, when he heard it. Not a growl. Not a whisper. A howl, distant but clear, like a wolf calling its pack. And then another, closer. And another.
Elias looked at the savage on the ground, which raised its head, eyes gleaming with something that looked like… joy. As if it knew what was coming.