The human mind is built to adapt to any situation, to survive even the most harrowing circumstances. But emotions—fear, despair, hope—are harder to control. These feelings are what make us human. They remind us that we're alive, even in the face of death.
The scene before Noah was dreadful. The air reeked of blood, the stench of murder heavy and suffocating. The worshipers were watching him like predators, their eyes gleaming with dark intent. Noah's mind was lost in a storm of despair, overwhelmed by the darkness inside him. He looked as though a part of him had already died, his will to fight fading with every passing second.
The thought of Lucy facing a horrific end played over and over in his head, like a curse he couldn't escape. The one thing a man fears most is not being able to protect the ones he loves.
But then, something pulled him from the depths of his turmoil—a fleeting image of his daughter, waiting for him to come home. The memory sparked something inside him, a glimmer of hope. He muttered to himself, "I still have something to fight for. Lucy is strong. I can't give up now—she must have escaped!"
The thought cleared his mind, allowing him to assess the situation again. He was surrounded—thirty worshipers encircled him, their bloodthirsty eyes waiting for the moment to strike. "Crap," Noah thought, "how didn't I realize I was captured?"
He lifted his head, scanning the circle, and his blood ran cold. There, standing before him, was the firefighter leader—the one he feared the most. His heart sank. Fate was mocking him again.
The leader was larger than the other infected, towering over them like a bear. His hands, slick with blood, gripped a firefighter's axe, its blade gleaming in the dim light. He wore a long, red coat over a firefighter's uniform, the black patch over his left eye adding to his menacing appearance.
He rose from his grotesque throne, and the murmurs of the crowd faded into silence. The beasts who surrounded Noah fell quiet, their anticipation palpable. The leader's smile twisted into something more sinister as he approached, his bloodshot eyes full of deadly intent. Each step made him seem larger, his very presence unnatural, like something out of a nightmare.
Noah's mind raced. He was trapped, his thoughts consumed by one question: How can I escape?
The monstrosity let out a booming laugh, sending a chill through the air. It echoed across the rooftop, eerie and unsettling. No one in the crowd dared to laugh with him—there was only silence, and the haunting echo of his voice.
The leader stopped and stared deep into Noah's eyes. "We meet again, heretic," he growled. The weight of the words crushed Noah, his body trembling under their pressure. This was the worst possible outcome.
"Last time, you challenged me," the leader continued, his voice dripping with venom. "The apostle of the savior. The bearer of truth."
The words made no sense to Noah, but he understood one thing: this was a dangerous situation—possibly his last. The leader turned to the crowd, raising his voice.
"What shall we do with a heretic who defies our savior? Who rejects our kindness?"
The crowd erupted in chaos, their voices clamoring for blood. Some demanded he be burned alive, others called for his skin to be torn from his flesh, but all of them wanted him dead.
Noah, exhausted and resigned, let a tired smile creep onto his face. "Looks like death is inevitable," he whispered.
The leader's voice rang out again, loud and commanding. "You heard them? They all want you dead." He paused, letting the crowd's bloodthirsty murmurs settle before continuing. "But what am I if not a kind and merciful servant? My savior entrusted me with his generosity. So, I offer you this—one last chance. Will you pay the tribute and accept the truth?"
Noah's heart raced, his eyes widening in disbelief. But a single, burning thought pushed all else aside. "First," he spat, "tell me what happened to my wife."
The leader blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Your wife? Who?"
Realization struck Noah like a punch to the gut—the leader didn't know her. "The woman in the ER room," Noah pressed, desperation creeping into his voice. "What happened to her?"
For a fleeting moment, Noah allowed hope to surface. Maybe she had escaped. Maybe she had found a way out of this nightmare.
But the leader's response shattered that hope.
"Ahh, the beautiful woman downstairs? Well, she's lucky. My savior has… plans for her."
Noah's blood turned to ice, and then, as swiftly as it froze, it boiled with rage. Fear and fury warred within him, threatening to tear him apart. "What do you mean, plans? Where is my wife, you piece of shit?"
The leader's grin widened, his voice dripping with mockery as he let out a booming laugh. "Now, now," he sneered, "If you want to see her again, all you need to do is pay the tribute and accept the truth. I promise you, my savior—"
Noah's voice exploded with fury, cutting through the silence like a blade. "To hell with your savior! To hell with your truth! You're no longer human—you're nothing but walking dolls, puppets to a twisted cause. I reject your false kindness, and I challenge you to a duel! Just you and me—let's end this, once and for all!"
Rage consumed Noah, clouding his mind. He wasn't thinking rationally anymore; all he wanted was to put an end to the madness. But then something strange happened—something that sent a shiver down his spine.
The leader, towering and menacing only moments before, suddenly began to sob. Tears rolled down his bloodstained face as he whimpered, "Why? Why can't you accept the truth? It will set you free. I'm trying to save you—don't make me do this to you."
The sight was disturbing, a grotesque echo of the earlier encounter in the reception room with the two worshipers. That same eerie, sudden shift from brutality to empathy. It unsettled Noah to his core. He couldn't bear the sight of them pretending to understand him, to feel for him. Their fake morality grated against every nerve in his body.
Noah clenched his fists, his voice shaking with fury and disgust. "Stop wearing that human mask! I've seen what you've done—how you've slaughtered and disfigured others without a second thought. We are no longer the same. You're something else—something that needs to be eradicated!" His voice grew cold with conviction. "I won't let you win. I promise you that."
The leader turned back to the crowd, his voice hollow, like a broken record. "I tried... I tried... I tried..." Each repetition grew louder, more forceful, until the very air seemed to tremble under the weight of his words. The pressure was suffocating, filling Noah's heart with a creeping sense of dread.
Then, the leader stopped. His gaze locked onto Noah once more, and that eerie, twisted smile crept back across his face. "You're a lost cause," he hissed. "But I will show you mercy by granting you a painful death. Oh, and don't worry—I'll kill all your beloved ones, everyone you ever knew. I'll offer their blood to my savior, starting with yours."
The words barely finished leaving his lips when Noah, his body acting on instinct, pulled the gun from his side and fired in one frantic motion. The crack of the shot echoed through the air, but the bullet didn't hit its mark—it struck the leader in the shoulder, not the heart. Noah had never fired a gun before, and the inexperience showed.
For a brief moment, the leader stared at the wound, watching the blood pour from his shoulder. Then, with a bizarre calmness, he brought his hand to the gash, feeling the hot, sticky blood between his fingers. Slowly, deliberately, he brought the blood to his lips, tasting it with a grin that sent shivers down Noah's spine.
"Thank you," the leader whispered, his voice dark and triumphant. "What an opportunity to savor good blood. Now, let me taste yours."
With terrifying speed, the leader leapt forward, his axe raised high, aiming directly for Noah's skull. The air itself seemed to scream as the blade came down, ready to split him in two.
Noah's instincts kicked in the moment the leader's axe swung toward him. He rolled on the ground, gritting his teeth as the blade barely grazed his right arm, leaving a shallow but burning cut. Blood dripped down his skin as he struggled to his feet, kneeling on one leg to steady himself.
Breathing hard, Noah glanced up at the leader, who was already preparing to charge again. He was bigger, faster, and more dangerous than anything Noah had faced before. Desperation surged in his chest. Think, think I need something to stop this charging bear!
Suddenly, one of the worshipers lunged out of the crowd, a frenzied look in his eyes. With a wild scream, he raced toward Noah, a crude weapon raised to strike. Noah braced himself for the attack, but something unexpected happened.
Swish!
The leader's axe came down—not on Noah, but on the worshiper. Blood splattered the ground as the worshiper crumpled to the earth, lifeless. The crowd fell silent, watching in stunned disbelief.
The leader growled, his voice booming as he raised his bloodied axe over his head. "Do not intervene!" His single eye blazed with fury as he addressed the crowd. "This is my duty! My revelation! The apostle alone shall fulfill it!"
The worshipers stepped back, cowed by the leader's commanding presence. Their earlier bloodlust faded into uneasy murmurs. Noah, still on one knee, stared at the leader, his mind reeling. Why had he done that?
The leader turned his attention back to Noah, his smile even more twisted now. "I will grant you the honor of dying by my hand, heretic. The savior has chosen me, and I alone will offer your blood to him. No one else."
Noah's heart pounded in his chest, but this time, something shifted. He saw the leader for what he truly was—a man driven mad by belief, willing to kill even his own to fulfill some grotesque prophecy. The leader's fanaticism was terrifying, but it also gave Noah a strange sense of clarity. He wasn't fighting a man anymore. He was fighting an idea, a belief that had consumed the leader entirely.
"What makes you so indulged in your beliefs? How can you justify your actions?"
The leader approached Noah with steady, measured steps, exuding a sense of calm as if he had all the time in the world.
"Apologies for the interruption," he said smoothly, "Justify my actions? There's no need. I'm merely fulfilling the will of my savior. I'm just a humble servant, eager to please my master." he added with a casual wave of his hand, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "but please don't mind my fellow worshipers. They're still learning some manners. Now, shall we continue?"
Noah's mind raced, desperately searching for an escape route. He needed time to think. "What does your savior bring to the table?" he asked, hoping to stall for a moment longer.
The leader laughed, a chilling sound that echoed around them. He leaned closer, his voice dripping with mockery. "Too late, heretic. You've missed your chance. But I'll tell you what my savior offers, so you can truly regret your choices. He offers clarity, peace, truth, and the chance to be part of something bigger than mere humans."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Have you ever considered that there's something grander than our shallow lives? Something warm and transcendent beyond our limited understanding? Yes, there is! We are just insects in the grand scheme of creation. My savior offers us the opportunity to grow beyond this flesh. Do you regret your choices now? I pity you, heretic. I mourn for you and your foolish decisions."
With that, the leader charged toward Noah with unnatural speed. Noah braced himself, twisting his wrist to prepare for the impact. He tried to dodge, but the force was too great, and he was thrown several meters back, teetering dangerously close to the edge of the roof.
The leader laughed maniacally. "This brings back memories—this situation is just like the day we met."
Before he could continue, Noah glanced at the edge of the roof. It was a two-story drop. Turning back to the monstrosity, he smirked and said, "I remember, but I hope you enjoy my gift."
With a sudden burst of resolve, he jumped from the roof.
Almost simultaneously, a loud explosion erupted from above. As the leader lunged forward, Noah had managed to attach a small bomb to the leader's large red coat. The blast rang out, sending debris flying and engulfing the leader in chaos as Noah plummeted into the unknown.
He looked like a desperate fool, leaping off the rooftop with nothing but sheer instinct. But in truth, his mind had calculated every possible outcome in a split second. He knew that staying on the roof meant certain death—100 percent—but by gambling on the fall, by applying the principles of physics he had studied for years, he gave himself a 50 percent chance of survival. It wasn't a safe bet, but it was the best one.
As he hurtled through the air, Noah's thoughts were clear and sharp. He shifted his body with precision, angling himself to minimize the impact. Velocity, gravity, air resistance—he calculated them all in an instant. He knew how the wind would push against him, how the pull of gravity would affect his speed, and how his landing had to be controlled to avoid a fatal injury. His eyes locked on the roof of the ambulance below, the only surface that could cushion the fall enough to give him a fighting chance.
"I have to land there—there's no other way." He twisted his torso, limbs bracing, guiding his body like a trained diver into a controlled descent. He crashed onto the ambulance with a jarring thud, the metal roof buckling beneath him. The pain was immediate, a sharp jolt up his right leg, but he was alive. His calculations had been right. Not perfect, but right enough.
Noah rolled off the ambulance, hitting the ground hard. The searing pain in his leg told him he'd bruised it badly—maybe worse—but there wasn't time to assess the damage. He couldn't run, not at full speed, but he could still move. He limped forward, forcing his body into motion, his mind reeling from the pain and the rush of adrenaline.
As he limped, Noah glanced back, eyes widening in shock. The Apostle stood on the roof, untouched. His red coat was singed at the edges, but that was the only damage. He was smiling—an eerie, unsettling grin that sent a chill down Noah's spine. "How is he still standing? The blast should've torn him apart!" Noah's heart raced, but he forced his legs to keep moving, dragging his bruised limb along.
The Apostle raised a hand, signaling to his worshipers. Noah's breath caught in his throat as they began leaping from the roof as well, flinging themselves toward the ground without hesitation. Unlike him, they didn't adjust their bodies mid-air, didn't calculate the angles or brace for impact. They just fell, bones cracking as they hit the pavement, some of them breaking limbs—but they got up, unphased, and began to pursue him.
Noah cursed under his breath. "This is insane—they're not even human!" He pushed himself harder, but the pain in his leg made every step agony. His mind raced, calculating his next move. "I'm not fast enough. I'm weak, damn it. If I hadn't been so slow, maybe I could've gotten some information on Lucy. But here I am, running again, tail between my legs!"
He risked another glance over his shoulder and nearly froze. The cultists were relentless, their broken bodies dragging themselves forward, driven by some unnatural force. They didn't care about their injuries—they only cared about reaching him. Noah gritted his teeth, the car in sight now, but the distance felt too long. "I can't let them catch me. I just have to make it a few more steps!"
Finally, he reached the car and yanked the door open, throwing himself inside. The moment the door slammed shut, one of the cultists slammed against the window, but Noah didn't waste time. He jammed the keys into the ignition and the engine roared to life. He sped off, his leg throbbing with pain, his mind still spinning from the shock of it all.
As the car raced away, Noah looked back in the mirror. The Apostle hadn't moved, still standing on the roof, watching like a predator with an army of broken, fanatical followers. The sight chilled Noah to his core.
His survival hadn't just been luck—it had been careful calculation, quick thinking, and sheer desperation. But as he sped away, his mind buzzed with the grim realization that he had no idea what kind of enemy he was up against. And even with all his calculations, he knew the odds had just shifted against him.