The mobile camera shook violently, tilted at an awkward angle.
Ahmed's face filled the screen — pale, hollow-eyed, a cut above his brow crusted with dried blood. Behind him, an abandoned house stood frozen in time, peeling paint, crooked family photos, boarded windows leaking dawn light.
"Day two," he whispered, voice raw and dry. The infection's spreading faster. He turned, listening. Silence. Only his ragged breathing filled the room.
"But that's not the worst part," he continued. "They're changing. Evolving. I've seen three distinct types already."
He held up three trembling fingers.
"Type One: fresh ones. Slow, dumb, pure hunger. Easy enough if you're quiet."
Another glance behind him. Still nothing.
"Type Two showed up within hours. Fast. Unnaturally fast. I saw one chase a woman yesterday… it moved like a sprinter. They track by scent now. Followed a blood trail three blocks."
His hand trembled as he adjusted the camera focus.
"And then… Type Three."
His tone dropped.
"They're thinking. Learning. Watching. If this keeps up…" He shook his head. "We won't just be running from corpses, we'll be hunted by something new. Something smart."
A sound. Behind him. Close.
Ahmed spun around, the camera jolting wildly, catching a glimpse of grey flesh, black veins, and milky eyes glinting in the dawn.
"Shit!"
His hand slammed down on the camera. The screen went black.
The sound of running footsteps. A crash. A door slamming.
Then silence.
Reyan's eyes flew open.
For a heartbeat, he didn't know where he was. The ceiling above him was stained and cracked. The air smelled of dust and antiseptic. His body screamed in pain as memory came flooding back, the office, the chaos, the infected.
And the two men who'd saved him.
"Where?" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, trying again. "Where am I?"
"Welcome back to the land of the living."
Reyan turned toward the voice. Two figures sat in the dim light of a barricaded office, both familiar.