Bloodstock Island

Chapter 15

The entire thing sounding as if it came from an animal documentary. Even if he can sense the severity in the guy’s tone, there was a part of him which could not believe such a concept.

“What kind of condition is that? You’re making it sound like some sort of comical power.”

Max laughs. Unable to hide his amusement from the entire idea. The name itself was enough to make someone roll over their seats.

Spartacus forehead crease, sighing as shut his eyes and pinches the middle of his nose. The fellow mumbled for a moment before taking deep breaths.

“This is what I’ve been telling you a while ago. Your town is so well protected and ignorant. In the city, everyone knows about this. They teach it the minute you step into school.”

The guy explains, his face creasing when he turned to notice Max’s expression had this smirk on it.

It was only when Max noticed how serious his friend looks, causing him to straighten out. He swallowed hard, realizing he’d been annoying him.

Then again, there was this thought at the back of his head which could still not grasp the ordeal of such a thing.

“Your kidding me, right?”

He mutters, feeling awkward when his new buddy remained silent.

Their conversation was going so well until he mentioned the said condition. Though a part of him believes it, the name given to the disorder didn’t seem convincing at all.

But again, his reply only caused the guy’s expression to turn sour, nose wrinkled as he tilted his head to give him a condescending stare.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Spartacus grumbled, palming his face in a sudden thrust of frustration.

Both of them turned quiet, as they tried to get ahold of themselves. It seems their minds were not aligning at the moment.

Regretful for his actions, Max sets aside all the question and doubts he had. He takes one deep breath to sort out his thoughts.

He did not want to lose his new friend, let alone have bad blood with the only person he’s connected with. So, with a serious face and beet red cheeks, he pursed his lips.

“So this alpha heat. What exactly does it do?”

He asks.

His unconscious was telling him there was a truth to the story, but a piece of him was also having suspicion if it was real.

He didn’t want to be gullible, but in the meantime, he allowed himself to be a dunce, remembering the advice and lessons his father taught him.

Lips twitching, Spartacus groaned, wiping his face in utter frustration. He messed up his hair, grunting for a few seconds before heaving a sigh. After that, he was back to being calm.

“We’ll, from what I learn. It’s the reason we’re different. People with our condition often shows increase physical strength, senses, and qualities. But the primary concern they have is the chemicals our bodies release.”

The lad lifts a finger, mimicking how a teacher does when discussing. There was no hint of jest or playfulness in him, yet his explanation remained far fetched for Max.

“We can do that?”

His brow rises, staring at his hands with a frown. The thing sounded like some kind of human power instead of a sickness.

Spartacus face wrinkles. He heaves a deep breath, but holds his temper.

“Didn’t you study this in biology? Certain animals do it. In a human’s case, it’s not that prevalent, but happens. But with our case, the chemicals we let out are so extreme to the point we can affect the surrounding people.”

He snaps at him, shaking his head in disbelief.

Max now felt small again, pursing his lips as he scratched his nape while trying to gather his wits about the topic. Of course, he’d read something like it, but he paid little attention to it.

“What kind of effect is it exactly?”

He diverts the conversation back to the so-called problem they have. It got him intrigued since he was getting the gist of it.

“I’ve heard it differs per person. But from what I know, it causes people to go crazy.”

The way Spartacus said those words cause a crawl in his spine, remembering his past encounter at the school’s locker room.

Now it all made sense, as several information along with his own experience slowly began clearing. With how his three classmates reacted after getting beat up, and mister Jefferson’s actions. He was certain they were all connected.

Though his intuition could be a setup by those numbskulls. The guy in front of him was too authentic and different for that to happen.

He senses his skin crawl, remembering the daze face of the old teacher, and how he drank the fluid which came out of him. The information made him realize everything happening in school may have truly been his fault, even if his friend says otherwise.

“Does that mean we can cause them to go nuts?”

It was the only thing Max could come up with, having the gut wrenching sensation of his conscience eating him, wanting to know the entirety of his case.

“Yes, that’s why they segregate people with our condition.”

Spartacus seemed oblivious of his woes, because he remained in his lecturing mood.

“So when you say they separate you. It’s because of that.”

It was now making sense, in a sort of way. Which only made Max’s innards shiver in fear.

His entire body got covered in sweat. Though he continued listening, gathering information. Another part of him was already considering of the consequences of the incident.

If they could truly produce the so-called toxins. Then it would explain the odd liquid he let out. And if everything his friend says is real, he may have very well put many people in danger because he kept what happened to himself.

“Yes, though not everyone gets affected by it.”

The lad proceeded in a much lighter tone, seeing how he was no longer smiling.

Max's eyes grew wide, head jolting to look at his friend’s face. His words somehow gave a ray of hope to him, thinking of the possibility he might turn things around if it’s not too late.

“Are you sure?”

He inquires, now with more enthusiasm as he needed more knowledge about the topic if he wished to go through this.

Though he was remorseful about what happened, a piece of him still felt shame in admitting what they did to him. Of course, all of that would be nothing if he was certain if this alpha heat caused it.

“Yes, but they’re really just a few people. And they are usually those who are close to us, such as our parents, siblings or even neighbors. They said it’s how their bodies got used to our toxins.”

Spartacus tilts his head, his expression now becoming more observant. As his gaze narrowed at him.

Again, Max can’t help but swallow the lump of guild building up inside him. It makes sense, if he was to consider his father and coach. As they were the only two individuals who never became indifferent and weird around him.

“They’ve actually categorized people into three cases, based on their immunity towards us.”

His friend continued because he stayed silent. The man then waves his hand in front of his face to make sure he is still listening.

That snap him from his deep thought, nodding in reply before asking.

“And that would be?”

Once Spartacus got his attention again, a half smile grew on him, noticing something familiar.

“Al Dominus, Be medius, and Om subius. All ranging from what trait they posses.”

The lad states again, playing with his finger, which he twirled in the air.

“What does it mean? And what’s the difference between all three?”

Max frowns, still trying to gather his wits about. His body was shaking from the increasing grasp of guilt building up inside of him.

“Al dominus are the immune ones, as I mentioned before. They can be our parents etcetera. Be medius have a slight resistance towards us, the usual traits they show are fainting or getting stunned when they’re exposed. And of course, the worst is Om subius. They are the one who go crazy and need knocking out. Else they’ll do unsavory things.”

Spartacus’s voice deepened. His expression turning hard upon mentioning the last type, as if it made his mind shift into autopilot.

“Is there a way for them to cure them, after you know?”

Max could not continue his question, feeling a thrust in his chest, knowing that somehow he had caused something irredeemable.

“Of course there is. But it rests on the person’s self-control. Some get well, but others become hopeless cases.”

His friend shrugs his shoulder, hands in his pocket he staring into the horizon, inhaling to take the freshness of the air.

“So there’s a chance they won’t recover?”

The reality of such a thing put an unknown weight on Max’s back. As his conscience continued to whisper and claw at him.

“Like I said, it depends on the individual. Some choose the path of recovery, but others, let’s just say they act of their own volition.”

Spartacus smirks, giving him a meaningful gaze.

“What does that even mean?”

Max now became agitated, sensing how the dude was playing around with his words. It got his blood boiling. Why wouldn’t he mention what happens to those people directly?

“Maybe you’re about to find out.”

Spartacus stands, brushing his pants as he stretched his leg.

He followed, wanting to confront him about his case. But then he saw the guy was looking behind him, making him turn around.

His entire face turned pale, causing his heart to skip a beat upon glimpsing several people running towards them.

All of them wearing black uniforms, complete with what look like pistols pointed directly at them.

His jaw dropped, realizing they were in trouble, seeing the words on their clothing as the group came closer.