I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe if I put it down on paper, it’ll stop gnawing at me. Maybe it won’t. Maybe writing it is just another way to survive—like cataloging the chaos so it doesn’t swallow me whole.
I thought he was sent to Houston like the rest of us. But that ain’t the truth, is it? The real records—the ones buried so deep even the hospital’s logs barely acknowledge them—say he never made it out of Lafayette Medical.
He was last seen in quarantine, but he didn’t just sit there and die like the others. No. Darryl… he changed.
The reports don’t sugarcoat it—they use the word “transformed.” Not sick. Not dying. Turning. Into something else. A beast.
He escaped.
They didn’t say how, didn’t say where he went. Just… broke out of quarantine and vanished into the night. His whereabouts? Unknown.
The rest of my family… they weren’t so lucky.
Catherine Marcel. My mother. Transferred to Houston, died on arrival. They called it “complications from pre-existing conditions,” but I know better. They let her die.
Jalen Marcel. My nephew. Ten years old. Same story. Shipped to Houston, didn’t make it. Excuse after excuse. Tragedy after tragedy.
Naomi Marcel. My sister. Last seen in transit. After that… nothing. No body, no grave, no answers. Just gone.
And all of Them… They took the L-8:M serum.
That damn serum. They said it would help us survive, make us “resilient” through the chaos. So why did so many of us die? Why did it unleash something primal in Darryl?
I should be in those records too—but I’m not. You know why? Because I skipped the vaccination line back in Lafayette. Something didn’t sit right with me. I slipped out before they could stick me with that needle. And now, I can’t help but wonder… did that save my life?
But what about Darryl?
The transformation, the escape—what the hell did they do to him? And Naomi… I want to believe she made it. If she did, if she’s still out there… maybe the Rougarou is in her too.
And Darryl?
If the stories are true… then I need to know what he became. And if I find him… I need to know if he’s still my brother. If he’s still alive… will he remember me?
 |
| Dad & Mom |
Man… if only Dad could have been there with us in those days. He left this world just months before Hurricane Kendra. Mike Marcel Sr.—my father—he carried the Rougarou blood, the knowledge that it could pass through the line. We were aware, yes, but he always warned us: “Respect it. Don’t let it consume you.” And now, they triggered Darryl.
It’s fascinating… and terrifying. It sounds like a dream, but it’s real. The power, the rage, the transformation—it all came from the same bloodline that coursed through Dad, through us, through Darryl. The potential… it’s immense. And it’s dangerous.
Every name I write here, every memory I trace, it’s a ledger of what was lost, of what’s still out there, and of what I might have to face.
Darryl Marcel. Naomi Marcel. Jalen. Catherine. And Dad. All of them threads in the same tapestry, all of them reminders that the world we live in isn’t just broken—it’s hungry. And it doesn’t care what we carry in our veins.
I don’t know what I’ll find. I don’t know if Darryl is still human, or if the Rougarou has claimed him completely. I don’t know if Naomi survived, or what she might have become. But I do know one thing: I’m the Big Chief. And whatever blood runs in my veins, whatever legacy Dad left me—I’ll follow it through fire, shadow, and ruin.
Because this isn’t just about survival. It’s about understanding. And maybe… just maybe… redemption.
— The Big Chief
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