Chapter 2 – The City Breaks
The morning air in the city was deceptively calm. Nia jogged through the quiet streets, Dale beside her, both alert and disciplined. Years of training and preparation had honed their senses; every sound, movement, or faint change in the wind was noted. The golden finger system pulsed softly in her mind, confirming that today's survival supplies were ready—fresh water, canned goods, a medical kit, and tools—all enough to make their eventual transition to the farm smoother.
Dale kept his hand on the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon. "Stay close, Nia. There's something… off today," he murmured, his instincts whispering caution.
Nia slowed, the hairs on her arms prickling. "I feel it too. Something's… wrong. People aren't moving normally."
Downtown, chaos was quietly building. Glenn Rhee had been making his usual deliveries, weaving through traffic, carrying crates for a small pizzeria. He noticed it first—the driver of a sedan swerving suddenly, pedestrians freezing mid-step, and a low, almost animalistic growl that made his hair stand on end. Something was very wrong.
He ducked behind a car as a man in a business suit charged past, teeth bared, jaw snapping unnaturally. Glenn's heart pounded as he realized the truth: people were changing. Not falling ill, not fainting—but becoming something else entirely. His first instinct was survival, moving quietly, keeping a low profile, and observing patterns.
Meanwhile, Abby had spent the morning with Shane. He had called her earlier to check in, teasing her lightly about missing breakfast. "You better not be causing trouble while I'm out protecting the city," Shane had joked.
"I wouldn't dare," Abby had replied with a grin. "Maybe."
They had met at the small park near her house, sharing coffee and a quiet conversation before he returned to his patrol duties. Shane was meticulous, efficient, and cautious—traits Abby admired. But today, there was tension in his movements, a subtle stiffness that made her uneasy.
Before they could continue their morning, a faint scream carried across the street. Abby froze. Shane's eyes narrowed. "Stay close," he commanded. "Something's happening."
The first wave hit like a tremor. People in the street began collapsing, convulsing, and then rising again with vacant, animalistic eyes. Panic spread instantly, amplified by screams and chaos. A man lunged at a woman in the crosswalk, teeth sinking into her arm. Shane reacted instantly, yanking Abby behind him and drawing his sidearm.
"This way!" he shouted, leading her down a narrow alley. The sounds of terror and death echoed behind them.
Abby's heart raced, fear mixing with adrenaline. "What… what is happening?" she gasped.
Shane's face hardened, jaw tight. "I don't know yet—but survive. That's all that matters."
Despite the terror, Abby felt a strange thrill—a test of courage she had never imagined. Her bold personality, combined with Shane's experience, allowed them to move through the streets with a dangerous precision. They avoided attacks, pulled each other away from collapsing crowds, and slowly made their way back toward her home, preparing to regroup.
Back with Nia and Dale, the city's chaos became unavoidable. Nia had sensed it first—the unnatural movements, the screams, the faint groans that were neither human nor animal. They ducked into a quiet alley as a small crowd of infected stumbled past, their eyes empty, their movements jerky and unpredictable.
"Father, we need to go. Now," Nia urged, her Natasha-enhanced body moving with precision, scanning for threats. Dale nodded, adjusting his pack. "The farm. It's the safest place. Let's move."
They navigated through narrow streets, using shortcuts Nia had memorized during their training runs. Dale helped others when possible, though Nia reminded him constantly to prioritize their survival. They encountered pockets of people struggling to fight off attackers—neighbors, delivery workers, and the occasional passerby. Each encounter was dangerous, but their training and teamwork kept them alive.
Meanwhile, Shane and Abby reached her home, where they found Andrea barricading the doors, trying to maintain calm. Abby's parents had left for work, leaving Andrea and Abby to protect themselves. Shane immediately began organizing defenses, blocking doors and windows, using furniture to create makeshift barriers.
"Stay behind me," Shane instructed, positioning himself near the front door. Abby, nervous but determined, followed. "You okay?" he asked quietly.
Abby nodded, gripping a baseball bat her older sister had used for weekend games. "I am now."
Shane's gaze softened briefly—a flicker of tenderness in the chaos. Despite the age difference and his responsibilities as a police officer, he made sure Abby felt safe. Their bond, already playful and flirtatious before the outbreak, became a crucial anchor in the sudden chaos. Abby found comfort in him, realizing that the connection they had built was not superficial—it was protective, real, and mutual.
Glenn, meanwhile, had witnessed entire blocks descend into chaos. People rose as walkers, attacking anyone in sight. He had no weapons, only his wits and speed. Observing carefully, he began moving strategically, scavenging supplies, helping the injured when possible, and taking note of those who were likely to be threats or allies. His path would eventually intersect with Nia and Dale—but for now, he was a silent observer, learning the first rules of survival in a world gone mad.
By evening, Nia and Dale reached the outskirts of the city. Smoke rose from distant streets, fires spreading as panic continued unchecked. The golden finger system provided them with essential items: bottled water, medical kits, emergency rations, and tools for repair or defense. Each item felt critical, yet practical—nothing godlike, nothing that would break the tension of survival.
The farm awaited them in rural Georgia, its orchard and fencing a haven they had prepared months before. Peach and apricot trees, a vegetable garden, a small pond, and secure fencing—all ready. Nia's planning paid off: the farm was defensible, sustainable, and a perfect base for surviving the coming chaos.
Shane and Abby, after hours of navigating the city and avoiding walkers, finally regrouped with Andrea, managing to secure the house as temporary shelter. Despite the age gap and his busy life as a police officer, Shane's protective instincts allowed for a subtle, realistic connection with Abby—teasing, caring, and occasionally playful—while maintaining the plausibility of his pre-apocalypse duties. Their bond would continue to grow under the stress of survival.
Night fell. Fires burned in the distance, and the city groaned under the weight of chaos. Nia and Dale arrived at the farm, exhausted but intact. The golden finger system confirmed their inventory, checked defenses, and suggested a plan for the coming days: patrol routes, food rationing, and maintenance schedules.
Inside the farmhouse, Nia set up supply stations, checked traps, and organized food storage. Every action was deliberate, every decision a rehearsal for long-term survival. Dale, steady as ever, supported her without interfering, trusting her instincts, and relying on her enhanced abilities.
Across town, Shane maintained a watch over Abby and Andrea, checking barricades and scouting the streets. Abby, nervous but brave, clutched a bat, learning quickly under his guidance. Their pre-apocalypse relationship now served a practical function: mutual trust, teamwork, and emotional support in a world gone mad.
Glenn, having survived the initial chaos, began moving toward safer areas, scouting for supplies and allies. He had yet to meet Nia and Dale—but when their paths crossed, he would be prepared, guided by his instincts and experience.
By the end of the night, the first stage of survival had begun. Nia looked across the orchard from the farmhouse window, watching the distant city glow orange with fire and smoke. She felt the weight of responsibility, the sharp edge of fear, and the thrill of preparation. Her golden finger system had given her tools, her body, and foresight. Dale's guidance provided wisdom and stability. Abby and Shane had built a bond that would hold through the apocalypse. Glenn remained a silent, observant force, ready to intersect with their story when the time came.
The world had begun to break apart. But for now, on the farm, Nia, Dale, and their allies had a moment of calm—a chance to prepare, adapt, and survive the storm that was only just beginning.