Friday, 12:00 AM
29 minutes before incident
Monti half-carried, half-dragged the woman down the service stairwell, her weight pressing against him with every step. She was barely conscious, her legs giving out every few stairs, blood from the cuts on her arms leaving a trail behind them.
"Stay with me," Monti urged, adjusting his grip around her waist. "Just a little further."
They'd made it from the sixth floor to the fourth without running into any more zombies. The service stairwell was narrow, dimly lit, and—mercifully—empty. The sounds of chaos from the main building were muffled here, distant screams and gunfire bleeding through the walls.
The woman mumbled something incoherent, her good eye fluttering.
"I know, I know," Monti said, even though he had no idea what she was trying to say.
"We're almost out." Repeated Monti
Third floor. Second floor.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, focused on keeping them both moving, on getting her to safety. Ground floor.
The service exit door was right there, glowing red with the emergency light above it. Freedom. Safety. Air that didn't smell like death and smoke.
Monti pushed through the door.bThe alley behind The Stack was chaos. People were already fleeing, streaming out of various exits, some screaming, some silent with shock. Emergency sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer.
Monti helped the woman away from the building, moving into the shadows between two dumpsters. He set her down gently against the wall, checking her over.
The cuts on her arms were still bleeding but not as badly. Her breathing was shallow but steady. She'd live. If they got her to a hospital soon.
"Stay here," Monti said, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling for help."
"N-no," the woman gasped, grabbing his arm with surprising strength. "No hospitals. They'll… they'll find me."
"You need medical attention—"
"Please." Her eye focused on him, clear despite the pain. "No hospitals. Just… somewhere safe. Please."
Monti hesitated, then nodded. He pulled up his contacts, scrolling past Kínitos, past Jade, until he found what he was looking for.
A safe house. One of the Para D emergency locations Jade had set up throughout the districts.
He sent the address to a burner contact—someone who'd get her there, no questions asked.
"Someone's coming for you," Monti said. "Five minutes. You just need to hang on for five minutes."
The woman nodded weakly, tears streaming down her battered face. "Thank you. Thank you for coming back."
Monti's jaw tightened. "We don't leave people behind."
He stood, looking back at The Stack. The building loomed above them, smoke starting to pour from the upper floors. Lights flickered. Something was very wrong inside.
And Kínitos was still in there.
Five minutes, he'd said. You get five minutes to catch up. Monti checked his watch.
Seven minutes had passed.
"Shit." He activated his suit, red light racing across his body. "I have to go back."
"No," the woman said weakly. "Those things—the dead ones—there's too many."
"My friend is in there."
"He might already be—"
"He's not." Monti's voice was hard, certain. "And I'm not leaving without him."
He started toward the building, purple smoke beginning to leak from his body. He inhaled it, feeling his strength surge, his muscles swelling with power.
And then it happened he felt it before he heard it the collapse of the 6th floor. Boom!!! The explosion he looked up. And fear dropped through his whole body before he could think he moved, to run to Kínitos.
"I have to help him," Monti thought
The service entrance was still open, door hanging crooked on its hinges.
Monti burst through, taking the stairs three at a time. Second floor. Third floor. His phone buzzed. He pulled it out mid-run, checking the camera feeds.
The feeds showed carnage. Every floor was overrun. The zombies had spread through the building like a plague. And on the first floor, moving methodically through the destruction—
The man in white.
Widow floating beside him.
Both of them heading toward the main stairwell.
Heading up.
"Kínitos, where are you?" Monti muttered, swiping through feeds desperately.
Fourth floor—bodies scattered, but no Kínitos.
Fifth floor—more zombies, more destruction.
Sixth floor—
The feed was dark. Smoke obscuring the camera.
Monti pushed harder, his enhanced strength propelling him up the stairs faster than any normal human could move. Fourth floor. Fifth floor.
He burst through the door to the sixth floor hallway— And the world exploded. Not around him. Above him.
The ceiling erupted in a massive fireball—orange and purple flames tearing through the floor above, through walls, through everything. Larger than the first one much larger. The shockwave slammed into Monti, throwing him backward down the stairwell.
He crashed through the fifth floor door, tumbling across the hallway floor, his suit absorbing most of the impact. Debris rained down. Metal shrieked.
The entire building shuddered, structural supports buckling under the catastrophic damage.Monti lay there for a second, ears ringing, vision blurred.
Then he forced himself up, stumbling back toward the stairwell. Smoke poured down from above. Flames licked at the edges of the doorway. The heat was intense, suffocating.
"KÍNITOS!" Monti screamed into the inferno.
"KÍNITOS, ANSWER ME!"
Nothing. Just the roar of fire and the groan of a building coming apart. Monti tried to go up the stairs—but the heat drove him back. The sixth floor was an inferno. Nothing could survive that.
Nothing human could survive that.
"No. No, no, no." Monti pulled out his phone with shaking hands, trying to call.
No signal.He tried again. And again.
Nothing. The building shuddered again, a deep groan that sounded like the whole structure was screaming.
People were flooding the stairwells now—panicked clubgoers, staff, anyone who could still move. They pushed past Monti, desperate to escape.