"Reyan Sharma?"
"Yes! Please, where is she!?"
"How do I know you're not infected?"
"I'm not, just tell me if she's safe!"
The eye studied him for a long moment. Then the door closed. Reyan heard the chain sliding free.
The door opened.
A man stood there, tired eyes, beard, kitchen knife in hand. Behind him, the wrecked apartment. Barricaded windows. Scattered supplies.
And in the corner, a small figure wrapped in a blanket.
"Papa?"
Reyan's heart shattered. He stumbled forward. "Baby… oh my God…"
"Stay back," the man warned, knife raised. "I need to be sure. When were you bitten?"
"I wasn't"
"Everyone says that. Show me your arms. Your neck. Prove it."
Reyan lifted his arms, turned around slowly. Samir and Taj did the same, weapons lowered to show they weren't a threat.
The man studied them, then slowly lowered his knife. "Okay. Okay, you're clean." But I'm watching you. All of you."
She ran into his arms. He held her tight, shaking. "I'm here. I promised I'd come back."
Then her small voice broke the silence.
"Papa… where's Mama? She said she wanted to play hide and seek. She told me to lock the door and wait for you or her. But… she hasn't come back yet."
Reyan froze. His breath caught. He couldn't speak.
Behind him, the stranger closed and locked the door. Outside, the city burned. Inside, for just this moment, Reyan had kept his promise.
But even as he held his daughter close, questions burned in his mind.
Who was that man, and where was he when Priya died?
How had he gotten into their apartment?
VAISHALI DISTRICT
In a house with boarded windows and a barricaded door, Ahmed set up his mobile camera again.
His hands were steadier now. More purposeful. He'd found supplies, canned food, bottled water, medical equipment. This house had belonged to a doctor. He'd found the body in the bedroom upstairs, a bullet hole in the temple and a gun in the hand. The man had chosen his own end.
Ahmed didn't judge him for it.
"Day two" he said calmly. "Secured a house in Vaishali district. The evolution's accelerating."
Ahmed flipped through his notebook—three days of observations, hastily sketched diagrams of infected movement patterns, behavioural notes scrawled in the margins.
"Type One: basic. Type Two: runners. Type Three…" He hesitated. "It set a trap. It waited for prey to corner itself. That means strategy. That means learning."
He leaned closer to the camera.
"It was watching the others. Observing. When prey appeared, a dog, starving and desperate, the type three didn't attack immediately. It waited. It let the others chase the dog into an alley. A dead end. Then it blocked the exit."
Ahmed's voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
"If this keeps up, we're not fighting a virus. We're witnessing evolution in real time."
He closed the notebook.
"I have samples. Notes. Maybe a way to stop this. But I need a lab. And time."
Outside, screams rose and died.
"Time," he murmured, "is exactly what we don't have."
He reached forward to turn off the camera, then paused.
"If you find this, my name is Ahmed Prasad. Nexus Research Facility. I was there when it started. And if you're watching this, I'm probably dead. But maybe my work can help."
He looked directly into the lens.
"They're not going to stay stupid forever. Adapt or die. Those are your only choices now."
The camera clicked off. The phone chimed as it started charging.
Ahmed sat back in the dark, listening to the city decay, and began to plan.