I stepped over the body on the floor, trying not to look at its face. My heart was thumping against my ribs, but I forced my feet to move slowly. I couldn't afford to make a mistake.
The hallway was dim. Most of the overhead lights were flickering or completely dead. The air smelled like copper and old gym socks. I leaned my head out just enough to see down the corridor.
Room 312. That was the room right next to mine.
Neveah Chavez lived there. We weren't best friends, but we had shared coffee and complained about finals together for three years. She was a Nursing major—smart, loud, and way better at staying awake than I was. If anyone knew how to handle a wound or a crisis, it was Neveah.
I crept to her door. It was closed, but I could see scuff marks on the wood near the handle.
"Neveah?" I whispered. My voice sounded small in the hollow hallway. "Nev? It's Vivienne."
There was no answer at first. I pressed my ear against the cool wood. From inside, I heard a faint, rhythmic sound. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. It sounded like someone was dragging a chair across the floor.
"Neveah, open up. It's me," I said, a little louder this time.
The scraping stopped.
"Vivienne?" A voice came from behind the door. It was shaky and thin. "Is that really you? Are you... are you one of them?"
"I'm me," I said, clutching my thesis book to my chest. "I'm wearing my graduation gown and I have a very heavy book. I'm not a monster, Nev. Open the door."
I heard the sound of several locks clicking. The door cracked open just an inch. One dark eye peered out at me. Neveah looked pale, her hair a mess of curls that she usually kept in a neat bun. She saw my face and let out a sob of relief, pulling me inside and slamming the door shut behind me.
She immediately shoved a heavy dresser back in front of the door.
"Did you see them?" she gasped, leaning against the dresser. She was holding a heavy baseball bat—probably her brother's. "The things in the hall? They're... they're eating people, Viv."
I looked at her. She was wearing her nursing scrubs, already prepared for her shift at the clinic later that day. Her hands were trembling.
"I saw," I said quietly. I looked at the blue window that followed me into her room. It was still there, hovering near my shoulder. "And I don't think they're just 'people' anymore."
Neveah looked at the space next to my head, her eyes widening. "You see it too? The blue box? It says I'm a 'Level 0 Healer' and I need to 'Group Up' to survive."
I nodded. "Mine says I'm a Behavioral Analyst. If the system wants us to group up, we should listen."
"We need to move, but not without supplies," I said, looking at her nursing bag on the bed. "If we're going out there, we need more than a book and a baseball bat."
Neveah nodded, her breath hitching. "You're right. I have my clinical kit, but it's mostly empty. I was going to restock at the lab today."
We moved through her room with purpose. Neveah was the expert here, so I let her lead. She grabbed a plastic bin from under her bed. Inside were rolls of white gauze, medical tape, and several bottles of antiseptic.
"Take these," she said, handing me three bottles of saline solution. "We can use them to wash out cuts—or throw them if we need a distraction."
I shoved the bottles into my backpack, nesting them between my granola bars so they wouldn't clink together. Every noise felt like a death sentence.
Neveah moved to her small desk. She grabbed a handful of nitrile gloves and stuffed them into her pockets. Then, she pulled out a small, sharp pair of surgical scissors and a blood pressure cuff.
"The cuff?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It can work as a tourniquet," she whispered, her nursing brain finally clicking into gear. "If someone gets bitten on an arm or a leg... we have to stop the bleeding fast."
A cold chill ran down my spine. The word bitten made this very real. This wasn't a psychology Case Study. This was life and death.
[PARTY MEMBER ADDED: NEVEAH CHAVEZ]
[CLASS: NOVICE HEALER]
[BONUS: +5% RECOVERY RATE]
The blue message blinked in my vision and then faded. Neveah must have seen it too, because she gripped her hockey stick tighter.
"I have some ibuprofen and a basic first-aid manual," she said, zipping her bag shut. She slung it over her shoulder. "That's all I have here. The rest of the good stuff—the heavy antibiotics and the real bandages—is in the campus clinic."
I looked at the door. The dresser was the only thing keeping the world out.
"The clinic is on the other side of the quad," I noted. "We'd have to cross the open grass. That's where the graduation stage is. It'll be a mess."
Neveah looked at me, her brown eyes filled with fear but also a spark of determination. "We can't stay here, Vivienne. Eventually, they'll break the doors down. We need a plan."
I checked the weight of my thesis in my hand. It felt solid. Real.
"We go to the stairs first," I decided. "We stay quiet, stay low, and move as a unit. If we see one of them, we don't fight unless we have to."