The trees swallowed us.
We ran through the forest like hunted animals, branches whipping at our faces, roots clawing at our feet. Behind us, the sounds of water crashing and snarls growing louder sent dread pulsing through my spine.
"They're coming," Zeke gasped, limping but moving.
"They shouldn't be able to cross like that!" Elle shouted, breath ragged. "They weren't that fast before!"
"They're evolving," I said. "And they're learning."
That word hung in the air like poison.
We burst into a clearing—half swamp, half collapsed ruins of what might've once been an outpost or warehouse. Moss-covered walls leaned at crooked angles, long-devoured by nature. A rusted sign barely hung from a bent pole.
Sector 7 — Containment Zone
"Get inside," I ordered. "We need cover."
We ducked into the shadows of the ruined structure. Darkness wrapped around us. The air was damp, metallic with decay.
Then it happened.
A growl. Close. Too close.
I spun around—and saw her.
Or what was left of her.
It was one of our old classmates.
Mae Lin.
I remembered her laugh, the way she braided her hair during chem class. She had been sweet, shy… the kind of girl who believed in poetry and soft music.
Now she was a creature of rot.
Her jaw hung too wide, her eyes hollow and glowing. Her skin peeled in strips like melted wax. But what was worst—what made Elle choke back a scream—was that Mae still wore her school uniform.
A torn ribbon clung to her arm like a memory that refused to die.
"Mae?" Elle whispered.
I stepped in front of her. "Don't. That's not her anymore."
Zeke raised a knife—shaking. "We kill her, right? That's what we do?"
I didn't answer.
Mae lunged.
I reacted without thinking.
My hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat mid-air. Power surged through me—electric, instinctive. I poured it into her body, watched her twitch and shriek.
Her body convulsed.
And then collapsed.
Smoke curled from her skin.
Elle stepped forward, trembling. "She's… dead?"
Zeke exhaled. "That was fast. Maybe it's getting easier."
But then Mae twitched.
Just once.
We all froze.
Then her body cracked—like glass under pressure.
She rose.
Bones snapped into new angles. Her head twisted with an unnatural jerk. Her eyes, which once burned, now glowed like liquid fire. She was no longer slow.
She was faster.
And hungrier.
She screamed—and more shadows rose behind her. Five. No—eight.
All once human.
All once dead.
All now worse.
"They don't die," I whispered. "They change."
I shoved Elle and Zeke back. "Run. Now!"
We darted through the other end of the ruin, ducking fallen beams. The mutated horde was faster this time, moving with fluid rage. They knew this terrain. They remembered it.
"Allen—left!" Elle shouted.
I ducked just as one of them crashed above me, claws grazing my shoulder. Blood spilled—hot and bright.
The thing smelled it—and smiled.
"Go!" I roared, shoving Zeke through a broken fence.
We emerged into the back of the compound, breathless. A tall tower loomed nearby—its stairs still intact.
"Up!" I pointed.
We climbed, fast and frantic. At the top, we burst into a rusted control room—windows shattered, the floor slick with dust and blood. We slammed the door shut and stacked metal cases against it.
Breathing hard. Shaking.
Outside, the creatures circled.
Elle clutched my arm. "They changed because of you, didn't they?"
I didn't answer.
Zeke paced the room, checking ammo. "So what now? They get up no matter what we do? You fry them with your freaky power, and they come back stronger?"
I looked down at my hand—still glowing faintly. "It's not just a virus anymore."
"What is it then?" Elle asked softly.
"A hunger," I said, barely above a whisper. "One that learns. One that remembers."
She looked at me. "And if it's in you too?"
"I'll fight it," I said.
"But what if you can't?"
Below us, the creatures howled louder.
The wind picked up. A distant siren screamed. Thunder cracked across the darkening sky.
And the tower we were in…
Began to shake.
The tower trembled beneath our feet.
Zeke steadied himself by the window, watching the creatures below circle like starving sharks. "They're not leaving. It's like they know we're trapped."
"They do," I said, voice low. "They're not the same anymore."
Elle paced behind me, her hands knotted together. "We killed Mae, Allen. We killed her—twice. And she still got back up."
I didn't correct her. Because it hadn't been killing that changed Mae. It had been something deeper—darker. The energy I used. The power in my blood. It didn't destroy them.
It woke them.
"I don't think they die," I said, turning toward them. "Not really. The more we fight, the more they evolve. They come back stronger, hungrier… faster."
Zeke scoffed. "So what? Every time we survive, we're just upgrading them? Are we supposed to lose on purpose?"
"No. We run smarter. Hit harder. Or find a cure." I hesitated. "And I think that cure… might be in me."
A thud interrupted us.
Then another.
From below, the metal stairs groaned—creaking under the weight of something climbing.
Elle backed toward the door. "They're coming up."
We threw more debris against the entrance, hearts pounding, hands slick with fear.
Then we heard it—laughter.
Not loud. Not manic.
A low, rasping chuckle from the other side of the door.
And a voice.
"Little thief of light," it said. "You're finally afraid."
I froze.
"Did you hear that?" I whispered.
Elle nodded slowly. "That wasn't one of the infected…"
Zeke stepped back, hand on his knife. "That voice… sounded human."
A fist slammed into the door.
The metal bent inward like paper.
I grabbed Elle's arm. "We have to go. Now!"
"But where?" Zeke snapped. "We're thirty feet up!"
I scanned the windows. One of them had an old cable line hanging just outside—coated in rust, but thick enough to hold.
"Out that window," I said. "We climb across."
Zeke stared at me. "Are you insane?"
"Probably. But we're out of time."
The door cracked. A long clawed hand slipped through the gap, groping blindly.
Elle didn't hesitate. She kicked the window open and grabbed the cable.
"Don't look down," I warned.
She stepped out onto it, arms shaking, balancing like a dancer in the rain.
Then Zeke followed—muttering curses the entire time.
I was last.
As I climbed through, I glanced back one final time.
The door burst open.
And standing there wasn't a mindless infected.
It was something else.
A man—or what was left of one. Dressed in black, skin stitched in places with metal, eyes glowing like furnace coals. He smiled at me.
"Your blood calls to me," he said.
Then he leapt—straight toward the window.
I dropped to the cable just in time, hands slipping as he crashed through the frame, sending glass and debris tumbling to the earth below.
We scrambled across the line, barely making it to the adjacent rooftop as the storm broke overhead—rain slashing like knives.
From below, the creature climbed the tower again, unbothered by pain or gravity.
And as I lay gasping on the rooftop, the realization hit me like lightning:
We weren't running from monsters anymore.
We were running from something that wanted to become us.
And it was catching up.
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