"When I went outto check the mail, there was one ambulance across the street. By the time I got inside, there were three."
— anonymous forum post, archived
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The sirens came first. One or two a day, sure — this was still a city. But now they didn't stop. Different tones. Different speeds. Ambulances, police, fire trucks — sometimes all at once. By the third hour, Nyra had stopped checking.
She just listened.
There was tension in the air, like the sky was holding its breath.
Her phone buzzed again — another notification.
[Local]: Sudden medical emergency at Brookvale Apartments. EMS en route.
Brookvale. That was hardly two buildings over.
She stood by the window, curtain half-drawn, and watched as the flashing lights painted the street in pulses of red and blue. Paramedics moved fast, but not frantic — like they'd done this enough times now to not bother rushing. A neighbor stood on their balcony across the way, arms folded, eyes wide. They didn't wave. Just stared.
-
One of the paramedics stepped aside. They were wheeling someone out. It was a woman Nyra vaguely recognized — red hair, maybe mid-forties, lived alone, always smiled too brightly when they crossed paths in the mailroom. But that wasn't what froze Nyra in place.
It was the way her body moved.
She wasn't limp like someone unconscious. She twitched. Full-body spasms that weren't seizures, not quite — too sharp, too timed. Her arms jerked in quick bursts, neck rolling like a marionette with cut strings. Her legs kicked once, twice… then stopped entirely.
And her fingers.
They twitched in sync — not random, but rhythmic. Four beats. Pause. Four beats again. Like tapping along to something only she could hear.
One of the paramedics reached to adjust her head and flinched as her jaw snapped toward his fingers. Teeth bared. Then slack again.
He laughed nervously. "Just nerves," he said to his partner, but he didn't sound convinced.
One of them glanced up at Nyra's window — not directly, just… near it. And paused. For a second, she swore his face shifted — not changed, not glitched — just… rearranged. Too fast, too subtle. A blink and it was normal again. He turned back to the gurney.
Nyra stepped away from the window, heart pounding in her throat.
Nope.
She backed into the room, hands shaking, every nerve screaming like static. She gripped the edge of the counter and forced herself to breathe.
Whatever this was… it wasn't isolated.
It wasn't rare.
It was spreading.
And the world was still pretending not to see it.