Girl's Doomsday Rebirth Revenge & Survive novel Chapter 393

**TITLE: Doomsday Rebirth 393**

Without a moment’s hesitation, Caroline barked orders at Denton, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Get your mutant rats out of here, Denton! Isolate the one that came into contact with the infected!” Her tone was firm, yet there was an underlying urgency that hinted at the gravity of the situation.

With Nelson’s steady guidance, Tyler and Caroline swiftly maneuvered to separate the mutant rat that had contracted the virus from the rest. Each second felt like an eternity as they worked, the atmosphere thick with tension and fear.

It was only after the rat was secured that the realization dawned on Denton. Panic surged through him as he waved his arms, commanding his mutant rats to retreat, to keep their distance from this contaminated area. His heart raced, but amidst the chaos, he failed to notice Pinky—the small rat he cherished and often cradled in his arms—had darted away and returned, oblivious to the danger.

Denton’s gaze fell upon Pinky, and his breath hitched. A bloody streak marred the rat’s ear, and Pinky scratched at it with his back paw, a clear sign of distress. The sight made Denton’s stomach churn with dread.

Moments later, a strange sensation crept through Denton’s body, particularly in the hand that had been holding Pinky. He scratched at it, feeling an unsettling itch that grew more intense with each passing second. When he glanced down, horror washed over him as he discovered bits of flesh and blood lodged under his fingernails.

His heart sank as he looked back at Pinky, only to find a patch of skin and fur that the rat had scratched off, lying in his palm like a grim trophy. A wave of realization crashed over him—he was infected.

In that instant, Nelson’s eyes lit up with a mix of dread and excitement. With an infected mutant rat in hand, he finally had the experimental subject he needed. The urgency of their situation propelled the group into action; they decided to race back to the lab, desperate to find a way to halt this relentless plague.

But before they could make their escape, Denton recoiled, jumping back nearly thirty feet. Tears welled in his eyes as he turned to Caroline and the others, his voice trembling. “Tyler, Pinky and I are both infected.”

Caroline’s heart dropped as she noticed a bloody streak creeping up Denton’s neck—the telltale sign of infection. Fear gripped her as she watched him instinctively reach to scratch at it, but Tyler intervened, his voice firm. “Don’t scratch! Hold on!”

Denton’s face contorted in agony, caught between the desperate urge to relieve the itch and the terrifying knowledge of what it meant. “Tyler, it itches so much! I can’t stand it!” His voice cracked, revealing the depth of his suffering.

This was merely the beginning of the nightmare. The infected would experience relentless itching, and the more they scratched, the more their flesh would decay and bleed. Each sore would become a breeding ground for the virus, spreading its malevolent influence further.

The virus was insidious. It would sap a person’s strength, leaving them hollow and lifeless, a mere shell of their former self before finally claiming their life.

Just then, Denton noticed something flying through the air toward him. His instincts kicked in, and he caught it—a back scratcher. It was an Elephant Brand back scratcher, a relic from Caroline’s storage space. According to the description, it was a miraculous item; no matter how intense the itch, two scratches would provide instant relief.

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