The call came just after dawn. Elijah Musk had barely slept—his mind tangled in half-finished thoughts, half-hidden regrets, and the uneasy silence that had filled the house after Liana went to bed. The town felt wrong when he arrived yesterday, but he couldn't shake why. Every street seemed too quiet. Every face too tense. Every sound too sharp. He stood shirtless at the kitchen sink, splashing water over his face, trying to wash away the kind of exhaustion that wasn't physical.
That's when a fist pounded on the front door. Not a knock. A demand. "Elijah! Open up!" Liana jolted awake in the bedroom. Elijah grabbed a towel, wiped his face, and strode to the door with his pulse suddenly alert. He opened it.
Officer Rudo Chirwa stood on the porch—broad-shouldered, sweating, eyes wide with the kind of fear a grown man shouldn't show. His hand hovered over his holster like instinct was overriding training. "Elijah," Rudo said, voice trembling just enough to notice. "We need you. Now." Elijah frowned. "What happened?"
Rudo swallowed. His throat bobbed like it hurt him to speak. "There's been a murder." Elijah didn't blink. "And you need me because…?" "Because," Rudo said, leaning in, lowering his voice, "it wasn't normal."
Something in Elijah's stomach dropped. Not fear. Recognition. Behind them, Liana appeared in the hallway wearing an oversized T-shirt. "What's going on?" Elijah turned. "Something happened in town." Her eyes darkened. "Are you going?"
"Yes." "Do you want me to come?" He hesitated. Liana noticed.
"I'll stay," she said quietly. Guilt flickered across his chest, sharp and quick. Rudo glanced between them, impatient. "We don't have time. Let's go." The small police car raced through empty streets, tires scraping over potholes. Dawn spilled orange light across rooftops, but it didn't soften the tension. Something heavy sat in the air—like fog invisible to the eye but loud to the senses. Rudo kept his grip tight on the wheel.
"Elijah," he muttered, "I called you because you've seen things. You understand… stuff. The kind of stuff most people don't."
Elijah studied him. "Rudo, just tell me." Rudo's breath hitched. "The victim was killed by someone they knew. Someone close. But the scene…" He trailed off. "What about the killer?" Elijah asked.
"We have him alive. But he's not speaking. Looks like he's in shock. Or… something worse." "Worse?" Elijah echoed. "You'll see." They pulled onto a gravel road leading to the upper part of town—a quiet neighborhood where nothing bad ever happened. Not robberies, not fights, not even loud disputes. The kind of place where neighbors shared sugar, gossip, and Sunday braais. Now yellow tape flapped in the wind.
Police lights flashed blue and red across brick walls and picket fences. A small crowd formed behind the tape, whispering, hugging themselves, staring at the house as if afraid to blink. Rudo parked and stepped out. Elijah followed.
The house belonged to the Nyathi family—Elijah recognized it instantly. Mr. Nyathi, a math teacher, lived there with his wife and teenage son. They were gentle people. Quiet. Ordinary. Which made the fear in the air feel even sharper. Rudo led Elijah toward the front door. But before they entered, another officer—a young woman named Tariro—stood outside pale as paper.
"Sir," she said shakily, "I—this is bad. Really bad."Rudo nodded grimly. "Show him."
When Elijah stepped inside, he expected blood. Violence. Chaos.
He was not prepared for how it had happened.
The living room was almost untouched—nothing broken, nothing scattered. A mug sat on the coffee table beside a half-done crossword. Morning sunlight passed through the curtains peacefully. And on the carpet…Mrs. Nyathi lay face down.
Her body was twisted unnaturally. Her arms bent behind her in a way no human joint should allow. Her neck was turned so far to the side Elijah couldn't understand how a simple man could've done that.
Her eyes were open. Staring in unblinking terror. There were no defensive wounds. No sharp-force trauma. No signs of struggle. It looked like she had simply… folded.
Broken from the inside. Rudo watched Elijah's reaction carefully. "Not normal." Elijah crouched beside the body. "Who found her?" "Her husband," Rudo said. "He confessed. But he doesn't remember anything. He says he 'blacked out'."
Elijah's jaw tightened. Z77. The memories flickered uninvited—laboratory lights, cold metal chairs, wires attached to skin, the sound of someone screaming in a neighboring room. The smell of disinfectant and fear.
Dr. Miriam's voice echoing in his mind: "Emotions aren't just felt. They're signals. They can be amplified."
He swallowed. "Where is the husband now?" "In the next room." "Take me to him." Mr. Nyathi sat on the edge of his son's bed, hands cuffed in front of him, shaking like someone trapped in a frozen waterfall. His clothes were soaked with sweat. His eyes were red-rimmed and empty—like his soul was somewhere outside his body. He looked up when Elijah entered.
"Elijah Musk?" he whispered.
Elijah frowned. "You know me?"
"You fixed our gate once," Mr. Nyathi said weakly. "Years ago." Rudo cleared his throat. "Tell him what you told us."
Mr. Nyathi's lips quivered.
"I didn't mean to… I didn't… I love her. I loved her. I—I would never—"
He broke into sobs. Deep, ragged, body-wrenching sobs. Elijah sat across from him. "Mr. Nyathi, what do you remember?"
The man squeezed his eyes shut. "We were talking. Just talking. She said she wasn't feeling well. Headache. Said she felt like something was crawling on the inside of her skull." Elijah listened intently. "Then I felt it too," Mr. Nyathi continued, voice cracking. "Not crawling. Something else… like a pressure. Like angry heat filling my head." "You got angry?" Elijah asked.
Mr. Nyathi shook his head violently. "No! I wasn't angry at her. I swear. I wasn't. But then… something snapped."
"What snapped?" The man stared blankly at the wall.
"Something inside me." Elijah leaned forward. "Explain."
"I heard her voice in my head."
He trembled violently. "Not her voice. Something using her voice." Elijah and Rudo exchanged a look.
"What did it say?" Elijah pressed. "She whispered… 'break me'." Rudo swallowed hard. Elijah's skin crawled. "Then everything went dark," Mr. Nyathi whispered. "When I woke up… she was on the floor." Silence followed. Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that sits like a weight on every chest. Elijah stood slowly. "Rudo, I need to examine the crime scene again." Rudo stiffened. "Why you? Why not one of our investigators?" "Because your investigators will see a murder." Elijah's voice was cold, controlled. "And I see something else." Rudo frowned. "What are you saying?" Elijah didn't answer. He returned to the living room. He stood over the body, eyes scanning carefully. The air felt charged, almost metallic. He knelt and looked at her face again. The terror frozen in her eyes wasn't from pain. It was recognition. She had seen something she knew.
Something close. Something she trusted. Elijah's stomach dropped again. Z77 wasn't supposed to be active. It wasn't supposed to be here, in this town, in these homes, in these quiet lives. He whispered under his breath, "Please God… tell me this isn't what I think it is."
But the way her body was twisted told him otherwise. The first emotional fracture. The first signal. The first test. Rudo stepped behind him. "Elijah… do you know something we don't?"
Elijah straightened. "Have there been other incidents?" Rudo stiffened. "No. None." A beat. "But people have been acting strange these past few days. Angry. Irritable. Snapping at each other for no reason. Small things."
Elijah nodded slowly. "It always starts small." "What does?" Rudo asked. Elijah turned toward him, eyes dark. But before he could answer—A second scream cut through the neighborhood. High-pitched. Terrified.
Distant. Then another scream—male, closer. Officers rushed outside. Rudo grabbed his radio. "Unit 4! Report! What's happening?" A panicked voice crackled. "Another incident! On the next street—someone just attacked their brother—oh God—he's—HE'S PULLING HIM APART—" Elijah felt his pulse spike. Not out of fear. Out of confirmation.
Z77 was awake. Elijah sprinted out of the house. Rudo chased him, struggling to keep up. Residents streamed onto porches, confusion and panic spreading fast. At the next street over, the scene was worse than the first. A man lay on the ground screaming, his arm bent the wrong way, blood pooling beneath him. Another man—his own brother—stood over him, panting like a feral animal, fingers twitching with violent tremors.
Officers tried to restrain him—but he moved with frightening strength. "No! Don't touch him!" Elijah shouted. Too late. The brother whipped around and launched himself at an officer with a snarl—not a human sound but a raw emotional explosion. The officer flew back, slammed into a fence, and collapsed unconscious. Elijah didn't hesitate. He charged forward and tackled the attacker from behind, using body weight and leverage rather than strength. The man writhed, screaming, "HE DOESN'T LOVE ME! HE DOESN'T LOVE ME!"
Rage poured out of him like toxic steam. Elijah pinned him with difficulty. "Rudo! Taser!" Rudo fired. The man convulsed… then went limp. Elijah collapsed backward, chest heaving. Rudo looked at him, shaken. "Elijah… what the hell is happening?" Elijah stared at the man on the ground—once normal, now twisted by something invisible and emotional.
"This isn't madness," Elijah whispered. "It's contagion." Rudo blinked. "Contagion? Like a disease?" "Yes. Not physical. Emotional." Rudo scoffed. "That doesn't make sense.""No," Elijah said quietly. "It makes perfect sense. Too perfect."Rudo grabbed Elijah's arm. "Tell me what you know." Elijah met his eyes. And in that moment, he had a choice: Lie—protect himself.
Or tell the truth—and start the unraveling of everything he had tried to leave behind. He chose the third option. He said nothing. Back at the house, Ava stood on the porch waiting. Laptop in hand. Eyes sharp.
She saw the blood on Elijah's arms. The look on his face. The tension in the air. She narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?" she asked. Elijah walked past her without answering. Liana appeared in the doorway. "Elijah?" she whispered. He paused. Looked at her. She looked scared.
She looked like she already knew something was wrong.
"Elijah," she said, voice trembling. "Why are the police everywhere? Why is there screaming in the neighborhood? What happened?"
Elijah wanted to lie.He wanted to protect her. He wanted to say it was nothing.
But as he looked into her eyes, he realized something far worse: Z77 would use love against her.
Against all of them.Against him.He stepped back, distancing himself. Liana frowned. "Why are you stepping away from me?"
Ava crossed her arms. "Because he knows something. And he's hiding it."Elijah's jaw tightened.His world—the fragile world he had come home to—was beginning to fracture.