The connection was too silent as if both ends had been waiting for the other to speak first.
The man's voice came first. Deep and regretful.. He sounded like someone who had been awake too long.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this."
The woman's reply followed instantly— her voice had a sharp clarity, the kind that could command attention in any room, yet it trembled slightly with anger.
Woman: "You only wanted the virus. That's what you told me. You said there would be no repercussions. You promised ?"
"It was meant to be contained. A tool. Not this." the man said, contemplating.
"Not this?" Her voice rose, not loud, but heavy with disdain. "Thousands , may be more, are now out on the streets. And you still cling think that it was just a tool?"
"You think I wanted this ?", the man, almost growled ," I just wanted the information. "
Woman: "Intentions don't matter anymore. You started this and you have to take responsibility ".
"I will fix this ", he said, slowly.
"Then do it fast ', the woman said, " Because if your mistake leads me to trouble, the deals off ".
The line went dead.
Somewhere else, far away from their secrets, Dylan was washing a glass.
The bar was dim, golden lights low enough to hide exhaustion but bright enough to disguise the cracks in the walls. Bottles lined the shelves rum, gin, whiskey and others , almost in contrast to the world crumbling outside.
The phone buzzed against Dylan's palm as he dried his hands on a rag behind the bar. He almost ignored it — until he saw the caller ID. The neighbor. The woman who usually walked his little sister to school when his shifts ran late.
He answered in a heartbeat.
"Dylan?" The voice on the other end was trembling, "It's your sister—"
The rest was drowned by a sound he would never forget. A scream. High, terrified, small. His sister's voice.
The phone slipped slightly in his hand. "Where is she?" His own voice was hoarse.
"In the alley by the old school gates. They came out of nowhere—things—people—" the woman's words cracked into sobs.
Dylan didn't wait for more. He shoved the phone into his pocket and bolted out the back door, apron still tied around his waist.
He managed to reached the alley just in time.
His sister was cornered, back pressed against a wall, three of 'them ' closing in.
"HEY!" Dylan's shout ripped out of him as he grabbed a length of broken wood from a pile of trash. The first one turned, slowly.
Dylan didn't hesitate. The swing connected with the side of its skull. Bone cracked. The thing collapsed but twitched, still clawing at the ground.
"Run to me!" he yelled.
His sister darted forward, but the other two blocked in her path. Dylan's chest squeezed. He hurled himself at them, the wood striking, breaking, every strike fueled by terror and the unshakable thought — not her, not her, never her.
By the time it was over, Dylan stood panting, chest heaving, the creatures still. His sister clung to his leg, sobbing . He crouched , pulling her close almost in tears himself
"You're safe," he whispered, though he wasn't sure if he believed it.
××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××
The office smelled of antiseptic and paper, quite still as compared to the chaos unfolding outside.
Hannah stood by the window, arms crossed, deep in thought.
"What are you doing ?", Sarah's voice rang. It was quite calm and polite.
"You've been quiet about this whole situation. It is very unlike you. I want to know why", her voice, soft but firm
. "Because…" Her voice faltered. "Because I know where it started."
That caught Hannah. Her arms dropped slightly, though her gaze remained tense. "Go on."
Sarah looked away, "You know how the outbreak started ?".
"At the party which Lucy and Leah attended ", Hannah said, confused. Dylan had told her all about the incident.
"So you don't know the exact thing ", Sarah sighed ," There was a waiter...at the party Vance attended. He broke out and infected some person and then the whole thing happened ".
"And?" Hannah prompted, her voice edging with impatience.
"His name was Henry. He worked with me in my lab ", she said.
"But there is no....ooh", Hannah realised, quickly.
" I have a lab outside these premises ", Sarah said, her voice laced with guilt ," I know, we are not allowed to take any piece of evidence outside the department. But I was curious... I must have left the flask of virus uncared and he must have looked inside, thus coming in contact with the virus ."
Hannah frowned. "You're saying he carried it out? That he—"
"Yes," Sarah snapped , then winced at her own tone. She forced herself to steady. "He left before I realized the danger. He blended back into the world, and… it spread. Through him."
"It wasn't your fault.", she said, looking into Sarah's eyes.
Sarah smiled. Not wide or huge. Just enough that it made a difference. The guilt was probably eating at her.
" Is the sample with you now ?", she asked.
"Yeah ", Sarah said, pointing to a corner of the lab where a test tube was placed carefully in a glass box.
Hannah turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob when she heard Sarah's hesitating voice.
"Will you tell Dylan ? "
"I won't ", Hannah said, her voice final.
Dylan staggered down the empty street, his sister's tiny hand gripping his tightly. Her backpack was torn, one strap dangling by threads, blood smeared across her sleeve that wasn't hers.
"Almost home," Dylan muttered, more to himself than to her. His throat burned. His shirt clung with sweat and blood. His heart hadn't slowed since the first scream he had heard on the phone.
Every step was heavier than the last. His mind flashed with images he didn't want — his mother, pale and still beneath hospital lights. Machines breathing for her.
What if I'd been too late today? What if she ended up there too, silent, gone?
He squeezed her hand harder.
The apartment building stood ahead, grey and cracked but still standing. He almost sobbed in relief. The front door opened after his frantic knock, their elderly neighbor peering out with wide, frightened eyes.
"Take her," Dylan said, his voice unsteady. He crouched so his sister met his gaze. "Stay here. Don't open the door, no matter what. You understand me?"
She nodded, though her chin trembled. She didn't want to let go, but Dylan pried her fingers loose gently, pressing her into the neighbor's arms.
He stood up to face the neighbor," Take care of her ". She nodded and closed the door.
Dylan stood there for a moment, his forehead against the wood. Just breathing and holding himself together.
He turned, forcing his legs back into motion, heading toward the café.
Inside his pocket, his phone buzzed — a reminder, or maybe a warning. His double life pressed in from all sides, crushing him under its weight.
Son, brother, bartender, agent. Too many roles, all pivotal , all important.
The coffee shop's sign glowed faintly in the distance, flickering. It looked almost absurd.
Dylan pulled the door open.
The café was a storm in miniature, nothing like how he had left it.
Chairs scraped across tile, half-finished lattes abandoned on tables, steam still hissing from the machines no one manned. A dozen customers crowded the door, voices rising in panic. The manager's shouts did nothing to calm them, his clipboard trembling in his hand.
Dylan slipped in quietly, as though he had been there all the time. .
"You're late," one coworker snapped at him. "Not that it matters. They're saying we're shutting down—evacuating the block."
Dylan just nodded, stepping behind the counter out of habit. His fingers twitched. He wanted to grab a rag, clean something, and refuse to believe that anythingwas differentfrom normal. But the sight of his own bloodied hands stopped him . He curled his hands into fists, shoving them into his apron pocket.
And that's when it slipped.
A crumpled piece of paper, yellowed with time, slid out and fluttered to the floor.
Dylan froze.
Surprised as hell, he picked it up from the floor.
The ink was faded, the handwriting rushed but earnest:
"I've always had feelings for you…"
But the name — the signature at the bottom — was gone, ripped away because of how old the paper was.
He tried to recognise the writing. But he had never seen anything like it before.
The lights flickered overhead. Once. Twice. Then darkness swallowed the café whole.
Screams followed.