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a few hundred meters away. She was more than fifteen kilometers away from the India International Center where she had fallen into the underground tunnels. Just how long had she been underground? Her mobile phone was long out of battery and she had lost her watch somewhere down there. Between the extreme fatigue and hunger and the hallucinations brought on by the ganja leaves, she had fuzzy memories of how long she had wandered underground till the Biters found her.
    As she looked around, it struck her just how silent it was. Normally, the bridge in front of her would have been full of cars and trucks, honking their horns so much one would be forgiven for believing that was a prerequisite to getting a driver’s license. There would have been children flitting around the huts on the side of the road, where their parents would have been hawking whatever they could – motorcycle helmets, coconuts, magazines. The huts were there, but there were no people in sight. Vehicles were strewn all over the bridge as if a child had scattered them around after playing with them and forgotten to put them away. As Protima approached the bridge, she realized that there were people there after all; it was just that they were not alive any more. The stench of death permeated the whole area and decomposed bodies lay in the cars and on the bridge.
    A school bus stood abandoned on the side of the road and Protima wondered if any of the children had made it to safety. She walked closer, and was shocked as she heard a whimper, quickly cut off. Protima called out, ‘If you’re in there, I mean no harm. Come out and we can help each other.’
    Someone moved inside. Her hopes lifted for the first time in days. The prospect of meeting another human being was so exciting that she threw caution to the wind and ran towards the bus. A small girl emerged first, perhaps no more than five years old. Behind her was a young woman. Both were cut and bleeding, but looked to have avoided serious injury. The little girl took a step towards Protima but the woman held her back with a hand on her shoulder, her expression changing to undisguised horror. She screamed and broke out into sobs.
    ‘What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’
    The little girl was now staring at Protima and she spoke in a hoarse whisper.
    ‘This Biter talks, Mama.’
    Protima stopped, stunned at the words. That was when she caught a look at her reflection in one of the bus’s windows. A gasp escaped her lips as she realized what had happened to her. She sat down on the ground, stunned. The vaccine. Was this what it had done to her? Death would have been preferable to the monster staring back at her in her reflection. She had not felt any hunger or fatigue after being bitten, and she had thought it had something to do with the vaccine. It perhaps did, because while she could still think and speak like a human, she looked like a Biter. Her eyes were yellowing, and seemed to be devoid of any expression, and when Protima tried to force a smile, she recoiled at the hideous grimace that was reflected back.
    It was then that Protima realized another element of her humanity she had lost. Try as she might, she could no longer cry.
    Protima jerked her head up as the familiar shuffling of Biters approached. She peered past the side of the bus and saw a crowd of more than a dozen Biters. She flattened herself against the bus, hoping the Biters would pass. The Biters walked on by, emitting growls and screeches, and Protima kept willing them on.
    That was when the little girl inside the bus coughed. The Biters stopped in their tracks. Protima was lying flat on the ground, watching from beneath the bus, as one or two took steps towards the bus. One of them, a large man with most of his scalp missing and his face covered in blood, screamed and the others began moving towards the bus. Protima knew what would happen to the girl and her mother if the Biters got to them. If the mother tried fighting back, she would be