Downtown Austin. Skyscrapers towered overhead while crowds surged along the sidewalks and traffic crawled through the streets. But something was off—ambulances kept racing past, sirens wailing, and even through the city noise, you could hear the agonized screams of patients inside.
"Are you sure about this place?"
Bryan eyed the massive shopping mall with its steady stream of customers and glanced uncertainly at Sarah. This place wasn't exactly budget-friendly.
"Absolutely."
Sarah pulled out fifty dollars from her pocket, looking quite pleased with herself.
"I've been saving forever for this. Dad keeps complaining about his broken watch, so I figured I'd get him a new one."
Bryan stared at the money with an odd expression. Fifty bucks. If he converted that to yuan, it was maybe 350—not exactly watch-shopping money unless you were looking at the bargain bin.
"Sarah, that's not really enough for—"
"AHHH!"
A commotion erupted across the street, cutting him off. They both turned toward the sound.
A large man had collapsed to his knees on the sidewalk, chest heaving as he gasped for air. His whole body trembled violently. Veins bulged beneath his skin like writhing worms. His eyes had turned dark, bloodshot, red tendrils spreading from the corners. The combination made him look absolutely terrifying.
People nearby recognized the symptoms of the new infection and quickly backed away, covering their noses and mouths.
"Dispatch, I've got a symptomatic individual here. Requesting ambulance."
A patrolling officer had noticed the disturbance. He ran toward the scene while calling it in, then without hesitation pulled out handcuffs and restrained the man's hands behind his back.
This sparked immediate outrage from onlookers. Some tried reasoning with the cop, urging him to remove the cuffs. Others cursed him out. A few even brandished makeshift weapons, looking ready to intervene.
The officer surveyed the hostile crowd with cold eyes, then calmly drew his sidearm—a silent warning against any rash actions.
Soon an ambulance arrived, sirens wailing. By then, the infected man had completely lost his mind, thrashing and howling. The paramedics struggled to strap him to a gurney and load him into the vehicle.
As the ambulance pulled away, the crowd dispersed. The street returned to its usual bustle, as if nothing had happened.
But Bryan's heart was racing. Something whispered at the edge of his consciousness—something terrible was coming.
"Why do I have such a bad feeling about this?"
Meanwhile, Sarah tugged at his hand, pulling him toward the mall entrance. The incident was already forgotten—these things happened every day now; everyone was numb to it.
"Come on, let's go inside! Good thing you're here—I wouldn't dare come to a place like this alone."
"Huh?"
Bryan's unease evaporated, replaced by dawning realization. He stared at the girl incredulously.
"Wait. You only brought me along to help pay, didn't you?"
"Bingo!"
She snapped her fingers, ignoring the curious looks from passersby, and hugged his arm, resting her head on his shoulder while gazing up at him with hopeful eyes.
"You won't let me down, right?"
Looking at that cute face and those pleading puppy-dog eyes, Bryan covered his forehead with his palm and sighed.
"God. My poor allowance."
...
They made it back to school by 2:30, just as classes were ending. Everyone was packing up, and Bryan and Sarah slipped into the classroom unnoticed.
Back at his seat, Bryan glanced at Sarah—who was grinning like an idiot at the watch box and the dinosaur-themed birthday card in her hands—and his mouth twitched. That was several weeks' worth of allowance gone.
When Mrs. Judy returned, the students filed out to the school gate and boarded the bus home.
By 3 PM, they were back in the suburbs. After stopping to pet Jimmy's dog, Sarah invited Bryan over to her place.
He figured he had nothing better to do, so he agreed. Inside, he was pleasantly surprised to find the house neat and tidy. He'd half-expected a single dad's place to be a disaster zone.
"Make yourself comfortable. I'm gonna go change."
As Sarah disappeared upstairs, Bryan wandered around the living room. Photos of Sarah and Joel covered various surfaces. In one corner sat a soccer ball covered in signatures—her team's, presumably.
Then he spotted something on the refrigerator.
A note in Joel's handwriting:
Working late tonight. Order yourself some takeout. See you in the morning.—Dad
Footsteps on the stairs announced Sarah's return. Bryan pointed at the note.
"Sarah. Looks like you won't be giving that birthday present today after all."
"What?"
Sarah froze, then spotted the note. Her face fell as she read it. Within seconds, all the excitement drained out of her. She slumped onto the couch, looking utterly deflated.
"So what are you gonna do with the gift?"
Bryan watched with a mixture of amusement and sympathy, unsure how to comfort her.
"I mean, giving it tomorrow shouldn't be too late, right?"
"No way!"
Sarah shot up from the couch, cheeks puffed in indignation. "You don't give birthday presents the day after! I'm waiting up for him."
"..."
"Suit yourself."
Bryan shrugged. It wasn't really his business anyway.
"What about dinner?"
Sarah jabbed a finger at the note. "It's right there. Takeout."
"Let me guess—you had takeout yesterday too."
Bryan scratched his head, walked to the kitchen, and checked the fridge. There were still some ingredients inside.
"Tell you what. I'll cook. Eating takeout all the time isn't good for you."
"You can cook?"
"Of course!"
...
Night fell.
Bryan paced by the floor-to-ceiling window in his room, moonlight illuminating his anxious face. Josie had left hours ago—she wouldn't be back until morning.
He stared out at the darkness, unable to shake the memory of that infected man convulsing on the street. Even now, close to midnight, sleep wouldn't come.
He glanced at Sarah's house next door. The living room light was on. He'd seen Joel come home earlier, so she'd probably given him the gift by now.
The thought brought a small smile to his face. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. If he couldn't sleep and had no phone, TV was better than nothing.
Ring!
The sudden phone startled Bryan awake. He sat up groggily, the bedside phone's screen flashing. He must have dozed off watching TV. A glance at the clock—2 AM.
"Who the hell calls at this hour?"
Grumbling, he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
The moment he spoke, a woman's voice burst through, choked with relief.
"Oh thank God, finally!"
Bryan's drowsiness vanished. He recognized that voice instantly—it was his mother. This body's mother.
Before he could figure out what to say, she continued urgently.
"Bryan, listen carefully. A disaster is about to hit. The infection is completely out of control—these people have gone insane, they're attacking everyone. In our bedroom closet, there's a black box with a handgun inside. Your father and I are stuck in Washington, we can't get to you. Find—"
Click. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The line went dead.
Bryan frantically tried calling back, but all he got was static.
The sense of dread he'd been suppressing all day exploded through him. He stared out the window at the darkness, at the lights flickering on in house after house, and knew.
A storm was coming. One that would consume the entire world.