The city screamed before it died.
Helicopters tore across the dawn sky, dropping flares over burning streets. Sirens wailed, soldiers shouted, and something… inhuman… roared beneath the chaos.
Ethan Cross slammed the door of an abandoned sedan and wiped the blood off his sleeve. He wasn't infected — not yet. The radio beside him hissed with static before a faint voice broke through.
> "—repeat, D.C. lockdown. All units evacuate to Zone 12. Code Red outbreak confirmed. The President is—"
The signal cut.
Ethan looked around. The White House was gone, swallowed by smoke. The nation's flag hung in tatters from a fallen monument.
He checked his pistol — two bullets left. Then he saw movement — a girl, running barefoot across the road, chased by two infected soldiers. Her lab coat was soaked in blood.
"Hey!" Ethan shouted.
She turned, terrified. "Help me! They're not human anymore!"
Ethan raised his gun, fired twice. The soldiers dropped — twitching, snarling — before going still.
The girl fell to her knees, trembling. "You have no idea what's coming," she whispered. "This isn't a virus anymore. It's… evolving."
Ethan looked at her, his jaw tight. "Then we'd better move fast."
Because behind them, down the street, hundreds of shadows were rising — and the national anthem was playing faintly from a nearby radio.
Only this time, the dead were the ones marching.