The tension in the room thickened as Marcus and Briggs braced themselves against the oncoming horde. The moans of the infected echoed off the dilapidated walls, their ragged, shuffling movements closing in from every direction. The two of them slowly edged back toward the vent, each step measured and careful.But then, without warning, the zombies stopped.Their groans ceased, their decaying limbs freezing mid-step. An eerie silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of Marcus’s own breath. He shot a confused glance at Briggs, who looked just as bewildered."What the hell?" Briggs muttered, his grip tightening on his weapon.Marcus’s instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His eyes darted through the crowd of motionless infected as they suddenly parted, clearing a path down the center. From the darkened hallway beyond, a figure stepped into view—a zombie, but different from the rest. Its body was far less decayed, its flesh still intact and unnervingly toned. Blo
Clara could still hear the faint echoes of gunfire reverberating through the vents, a grim reminder that Marcus and Briggs were likely holding off the infected. She hadn’t known them long enough to recall their names, but the sound of shots suggested they were capable enough. It wasn’t her concern, though. The mission came first, and there were bigger things at play than just surviving this moment.As they crawled further through the vent, Clara’s mind wandered to that thing. If it was as powerful as she suspected, it might just take care of the problem for her. Marcus and Briggs would be a potential danger she couldn’t afford as their capabilities were enough to put a wedge in her plans. A chill ran through her—not from fear, but from the thrill of knowing she was on the edge of something significant. Something that could change everything. They pressed on, the cramped space of the vent closing in around them. The musty air felt heavy, thick with the scent of rust and decay. Clara's
In a different part of the world...*****The hum of anticipation filled the room, though nothing particularly exciting was happening on the surface. Rows of desks neatly arranged, students sitting with disciplined posture, and at the front, an instructor tracing diagrams on a digital board—a lecture, as routine as any other. Yet, there was an unspoken awareness beneath the surface, a quiet vigilance. Elara had felt it for weeks, and judging by the way her classmates watched the instructor’s every movement, they had sensed it too. Today, though, she tried to focus, even as her mind drifted.The instructor, a stern-faced woman in her fifties, pointed to a holographic projection of a plant shimmering in green and blue hues. "This," she began, "is the Ulvanis Serrata, a species notable for its regenerative properties. But, more importantly for our studies, its unique ability to detect and respond to high levels of radiation. Now, can anyone tell me why this might be especially useful?"E
Elara stepped out of the academy building into the muted, dusky light of the compound. The campus stretched out in all directions, a labyrinth of steel and glass buildings interwoven with walkways and vibrant green corridors. This wasn't like any city she'd seen before; her home, like the academy, was walled off from the rest of the world. To her, the endless concrete and manicured lawns, the highly secure gates, and the ever-present guards were part of normal life.She passed the central fountain, an ornate structure with figures of mythical creatures carved into the marble. They symbolized some ancient story she had once learned, but the details had faded from her mind over the years. The streets here were wide and lined with tall trees, their canopies shielding her from the wind. People strolled about, calm and purposeful, yet always alert. Residents of the compound carried themselves with a quiet intensity, a result of the years of carefully controlled living under the organizatio
The candidates were led down a sterile hallway, its white walls gleaming under cold fluorescent lights. Elara walked with the group, her mind racing. The patriarch’s words echoed in her head, but when she glanced around, everyone else appeared eerily calm. It was as if the thought of not surviving the “test” didn’t faze them at all. She wanted to ask someone if they really understood the weight of what was about to happen, but she held her tongue.At the end of the corridor, they entered a large, windowless room. Rows of sleek, metallic pods lined the walls, their surfaces polished to a mirror-like sheen, each one equipped with a small screen and an access panel. There were forty pods in total, one for each candidate. The hum of the machines filled the air, and the clinical smell of antiseptic was almost overwhelming.An elderly man in a pristine white lab coat stepped forward, his hands folded behind his back. His face was wrinkled yet composed, with an unsettlingly neutral expressio
Elara lay tense in the pod as the warmth in her veins intensified, creeping through her arms, spreading up to her shoulders, and seeping into her core. Her body felt like it was being enveloped in a strange fire—both cold and burning at once. A sharp sting flared at the base of her spine, and she clenched her fists, trying to keep her breathing steady, but the sensation was relentless.The compound had triggered a reaction at the cellular level, initiating the "adaptive response" the old man had described. Deep within her, every cell was reacting to the foreign neutral gene, which was nudging each strand of her DNA into a new configuration, unlocking dormant sections of her genetic code. Elara could almost feel her body being rewritten, as if someone were tearing her apart and piecing her back together from the inside out.A sudden, stabbing pain shot through her chest, and she gasped, her body straining against the restraints as the heat turned searing. Her muscles tightened involunt
As the sun dipped below the horizon, evening shadows stretched across the desolate streets, casting an eerie calm over the scene. Clara, Erika, and Ian carefully made their way out of the building, each step cautious, as if even the ground itself could betray them. Clara kept her grip on her compulsion spell, feeling its fraying edges; maintaining control over two people this long wasn’t easy, and it was beginning to wear on her.A burst of gunfire split the silence, distant but unmistakable. Ian’s head snapped up, a glimmer of hope lighting his face. “Think it could be Briggs?” he asked, his tone almost pleading.Erika shot him a look, harsh and skeptical. “Don’t be an idiot. We blocked the only exit. No one’s getting through there.”Ian became confused. “And why did we block the exit?"Erika’s face clouded over, and her expression wavered between confusion and irritation, as if her mind was trying to piece together a memory just out of reach. Clara felt her influence slipping, a tin
The bikers shoved Clara, Erika, and Ian forward, forcing them toward a crumbling, abandoned building looming like a haunted skeleton against the night sky. The gang members laughed and jeered, clearly enjoying the helplessness of their captives.Clara glanced around desperately, hoping to spot some way out. But before any plan could form, a sharp, commanding voice sliced through the evening air behind them."Release them, or I’ll start popping bullets," the voice drawled, cold and confident.Everyone turned, and there stood Briggs, holding a rifle steady and pointed at the gang, his expression all business. Beside him, Marcus watched with narrowed eyes, taking in the scene, his arms crossed and posture tense. His gaze was sharp, calculating.The tattooed leader barked out a laugh, his men’s guns immediately swiveling toward the newcomers. “Well, well,” he sneered, flashing a crooked smile, “look who decided to crash the party.”Briggs cocked his head, his finger resting just above the