"Priya, people are running. There's—"
A blood-curdling scream snapped through the line. Something tearing. Then a wet, sickening sound.
"Kavya! Are you okay?!" Priya shouted.
Silence. The call dropped.
On the TV, blurred phone footage showed people attacking each other near the city centre. Priya pinged: Are you okay? News says there's some kind of attack downtown. Please call me.
Her mind seized. Kavya had said she was out of the taxi. That scream had been right where Priya would meet her. Panic uncoiled.
She moved to her daughter's room.
"Mama? What happened?"
Priya crouched down, forcing a terrifying, brittle smile. "Nothing, beta. Mama needs your help. It's a very important game."
"What help?"
Priya softened her voice, making the words sound like a promise. "You know how to play hide and seek, right?"
"Yes!"
"So, you just need to hide in this house, pretending I am seeking you. This is the hardest game. Now, listen: I am going out, and you must lock the door, right now. You wait for Papa or me to open the door, okay, beta?"
Her daughter's confusion melted into the seriousness in Priya's eyes. She nodded.
Priya kissed her forehead. "I love you. Hide, now."
The girl scrambled to the lock. Priya slammed the door, bolted it, then ran — down the stairwell.
She reached the second-floor landing and stopped. A wet, tearing noise drifted up from the courtyard. A scream choked off. She peered down.
The garden, which had been her refuge every morning, was a slaughterhouse.
Near the main gate, a woman stumbled and a man pounced, biting into her shoulder. Blood sprayed. The woman's scream cut off into a wet choking. Then, after a stunned pause, she rose.
Then the woman stopped moving. For three seconds. Four. And then she stood up.
Her eyes were white; black veins webbed her skin. Her mouth opened, and she made a sound no human should make.
More followed, stumbling out of the building, slamming through the gate. The security guard — kindly Ramesh who hid candy for kids, was among them now, his uniform torn and bloodstained.
Then Priya saw her.
Kavya.
Purple cardigan stuck to her, hair matted with blood, movements jerking like a puppet. The laughing, bright face from the morning call was gone.
Kavya's head snapped toward her — then Kavya's mouth opened in that terrible groan.
The main gate was a death trap. There was nothing left to save here. She had a promise to keep upstairs.
Priya wiped her face with the heel of her hand. She had to find the strength to turn around. She had to get back to her daughter.
Priya ran.
She dodged between two infected, cut toward the shadows near the mailboxes, searching for Kavya. One lunged. She ducked, catching the railing.
First floor. Second floor. Her lungs burned. Behind her, groans echoed in the stairwell.
Third floor.
She burst through the hallway and stopped dead.
An infected crouched over a body—Mrs. Desai from 3C. The infected was eating.
Priya's stomach threw itself against her ribs. She pressed her hand over her mouth.
The infected looked directly on her. Priya ran again, barreling through the fire door — fourth floor, almost there.
Something grabbed her from behind. Cold fingers. Impossible strength.
Teeth sank into her shoulder.
Pain flared white-hot and then dulled into an icy spread that crawled through her veins. Her thoughts shattered.
No. No, please. My daughter. I have to—
Her vision sharpened in wrong colors — everything washed grey except for one thing blazing bright:
Movement. Life. Warmth.
Prey.
Her last real thought, the one that cut through the blur, was for her daughter.
I'm sorry, baby. Mama's so sorry.