Chapter Text
You don't remember falling asleep.
All you can remember is the same heavy, sinking feeling that had been pressing on your chest for days, the feeling of another wasted evening spent lying on your couch and listening to the world outside crumble. The city was slowly falling apart outside your window.
For the past few days, rumors had been going around the city. Something about a viral outbreak. No one really believed it at first, taking it as just some urban legend or hoax. People joked about it or brushed it off, perhaps because to them it was much easier to laugh than to worry. You would sometimes overhear your neighbors talk about how this was all likely not that big of a deal.
And then the quarantine began.
You had been staying inside like everyone else. What else were you supposed to do?
Stores were closing early, some of them were not even opening at all. Streets went dead silent except for the occasional siren of a police cruiser or ambulance. The city felt… wrong. It was much safer to stay home, you knew that. You would rather not risk catching whatever sickness was spreading outside.
So you stayed in your dim apartment. All day, every day for nearly a week. Lights off and curtains drawn shut, all as you kept trying to pretend this was just a storm you were waiting for to be over. A really long one. At some point, the exhaustion and boredom had taken over and led you to fall asleep on your couch.
You weren't sure how long you had been asleep for, and eventually woke up to muffled voices coming from outside your apartment door.
They didn’t sound like the usual chatter that comes from the hallway. These voices were muffled but frantic, overlapping, and filled with urgency. For a moment, you're not sure if you're even fully awake. Your head feels heavy and your vision is blurred around the edges.
The murmurs outside your door sharpen as your hearing begins to clear. You can barely make out much of what they're saying, but you catch fragments of it.
“...said... get to the..!”
“Take... you can... hurry!”
You blink, pushing yourself upright. None of this makes sense, but the fear in your neighbors’ voices is unmistakable. You're confused and disoriented from your nap but you can still sense the trace of panic echoing through the walls.
You swing your shaky legs off the couch, making your way over to the door to get a better listen.
A loud, jarring bang rattles the doorframe.
You freeze. It's as if someone has thrown themselves against it or is stomping around on the other side. The sound echoes, your stomach tightens as you hear the rumble of footsteps and panicked voices of more people outside.
Another voice cuts through the chaos, more clear now. It’s loud and commanding.
“Move! They're not keeping the station open forever!”
You freeze. The RPD. The police station. You remember the radio announcements about there being shelter there. At the time it didn't seem super important, you hadn’t believe it mattered. But now it suddenly matters more than anything. It feels real in the most alarming way. You can pick up on the terror taking over other residents in the building. Doors slam, people shout, quick and loud footsteps can be heard coming from the corridor.
The banging and shouting in the hallway grow louder. Then another firm, commanding voice cuts through the panic.
“Everyone, stay calm! Evacuate immediately! Move towards the stairs! Don't take the elevators!”
Your stomach drops, just now noticing the red and blue lights outside, flashing in through the cracks in your curtains. Police? Real uniformed cops, not just rumors on the radio. The footsteps outside your door are heavier now and you can hear someone knocking on doors.
“Apartment 4B! Open up!”
You jump, startled as your door rattles from the strong knock. Your fingers hesitantly tighten around the handle, but you almost immediately let go and step back. You don't feel ready to leave. Not yet. No shoes, no coat, and you're only half awake. You can hear the officers pleading with other neighbors, guiding them towards the exit, trying but failing to keep them calm and in order.
If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve never truly liked cops. Maybe you've had too many bad experiences with them. But that thought is being pushed aside by what's happening right now.
“...Take only essential items. We don't have time for delays! Move fast!”
Your mind races. Until now, news about the outbreak had never felt this serious. But listening to all of the chaos now, to the people leaving everything behind in their apartments, you realize there's no other choice. Staying here is no longer an option.
You shrug on your jacket and quickly struggle to slip on your shoes, your shaky hands fumbling with them. You hesitate only for a short moment before the knocking on your door comes again.
“Apartment 4B! It's the police! You need to leave now!”
The reality hits you. They aren't asking anymore, they’re being more commanding. For the first time since the outbreak started, you can feel your slight worry break into actual terror.
Taking a deep breath and trying to steady your hands, you unlock the door creeping it open. The hallway is chaotic and crowded. People are moving quickly, pushing past each other. Some of them are dragging bags along with them, some empty handed, a few of them crying. A woman brushes past you breathlessly, muttering something about a bite, about someone being dragged outside.
You step into the hallway, joining the line of people rushing towards the stairwell, desperate to leave.
As the cops guide everyone down, you hear shouts, rushing feet, and a low, distant groan out on the street... something you don't recognize. It sounds barely human.
You're almost outside the building, looking at everyone else around you and wondering what's going to happen. You’re pretty sure there's not enough space for all of you at the RPD, so what is everyone going to do? Where will the others go?
You follow the crowd of people outside the building and the doors slam behind you, sealing off the familiar place you had left. The crowd spills onto the street and your heart hammers as you take in your surroundings. The city you've known for your entire life has drastically shifted overnight. It no longer looks like the place you grew up in.
Some of the nearby roads are blocked with barricades. Yellow caution tape whipping in the wind, overturned trash bins, and a few police cruisers forming a line along the street. An officer waves your crowd toward a shuttle parked a block down, a large van with flashing lights, which you can only assume is meant to carry civilians safely to the RPD.
“Keep moving! Stay together!” the officer shouts.
People push past each other, bags clutched, children in arms, and elders shuffling along, leaning on whoever can support them. They’re nearly trampling each other in their desperation to leave. You move along with them, keeping your eyes low and taking small steps while trying your best not to trip or fall. You nervously fidget with the chain on your neck, a small heart locket your father had gifted you when you were young.
That was long ago, though. Way before the falling out. Still, the locket gives you a sense of comfort, something good from a time that feels like a different lifetime. You keep walking, lost in your own thoughts about the past.
The uncanny groan from earlier echoes again, interrupting your thinking. Deeper this time, closer. It was a sound too heavy and rough to be human, and it made the crowd pause. Some of the people in the crown hesitate to keep moving, a few of them glance over their shoulders.
A loud scream rattles your ears. Something about the way it sounds makes your stomach drop. There’s something seriously wrong.
"Go! Go! Move, now!" the officer yells, pushing forward.
Gunshots ring out in the direction of the scream, cracking loudly in the air. Much louder than what you’ve heard in movies. You flinch, raising your hands up to cover your ears. You’re not sure what’s going on and you can’t see with all the rushing people blocking your view. But even so, everyone’s panic causes you to react the same way as them. It’s as if their fear is slowly infecting you.
The crowd breaks as people run away in every direction. People shove past in a panic, most of them running toward an alleyway nearby, completely abandoning the idea of the shuttle. Others freeze, unsure of where to go or how to react. You have no idea what’s going on or why everyone is panicking so much, but you don’t want to stay and find out. You push through the chaos, apologizing to anyone you forcefully shove out of the way.
The RPD shuttle is close, but you can see the crowd blocking the way. Some people are tripping over one another, some are too slowamd begin to fall behind. The officer at the front is shouting, waving his arm and trying to keep order, but it's no use. Fear spreads faster than any sort of instructions.
A figure stumbles at the edge of your vision. It’s a man… dragging himself along the pavement, with blood streaking his face and chest. His eyes are wide and unfocused. There’s a brief pause and silence while everyone looks over at the man, unsure of exactly what they’re seeing.
The remaining crowd bolts, scattering down the streets, screaming and terrified.
You begin to sprint towards the shuttle, the fear and adrenaline pushing you away from the figure. Your lungs burn and your legs feel weak, as if they can't keep up. Every instinct of yours is yelling at you to run or hide, to do something. It’s hard to even think straight.
By the time you reach the RPD shuttle, only a handful of people remained close enough to make it. An officer ushers you and a few others inside and the doors close behind the few of you who made it. You glance over your shoulder and out the window. The street is a real mess.
Shouts, groans, more gunshots. Most of the crowd won't be making it. And you know that already, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. You don't even need to see how the rest of it plays out.
The shuttle moves forward followed by a collective sigh of relief. You feel safe, for now.
You slide down an empty row and sink into an empty seat, clutching your locket to your chest. The air feels thick with the smell of blood and sweat, and for a moment everyone is staying still and silent, as if any sort of sound or movement might somehow attract attention.
Across the aisle, a young woman cradles her trembling child, whispering at him in hopes that it will bring him some comfort. The child whimpers as she rocks him gently, almost like he’s too afraid to make a sound.
Next to her, an older man mutters to no one in particular, shaking his head.
“We… we left people behind… they didn’t even make it to the van… God, they were too slow…” he says.
A teenage boy sitting across from you shivers, staring at the floor. “I… I saw one of them… someone… something was dragging them away. It was almost human.” His voice breaks.
You hear whispers spreading across the shuttle like wildfire.
“So you saw that too? The thing crawling in the street?”
“It wasn’t just one. There were more. at least three of them.”
“Someone… someone got bit… I thought they didn’t make it… but then they… they didn’t stay dead.” another voice adds.
The officer at the front of the shuttle stands stiffly against the wall, hand near his holster and his jaw tight. He listens to the whispers, but he says nothing, just scanning the windows as the driver keeps his eyes on the road.
“Streets are worse than we thought… debris everywhere.” the driver mutters under his breath. “It’s a good thing the station ain’t that far from here.”
A woman near the back grips her bag tightly, her face red with anger. “Why aren’t there more cops?! They can’t protect anyone. Look at this! Look at how many innocent people didn’t make it! Why aren’t you doing your job?!”
“We’re doing what we can.” The officer finally speaks, his voice rough. “Just hold on a bit longer. We’re heading to the police station. It’s safer there. Stay calm and stay seated.”
The shuttle rocks sharply as it hits a pothole. The passengers sway with it, bags and arms flailing. You tighten your grip on the headrest of the seat in front of you, trying not to look around. Trying not to catch any glimpses of what’s happening outside.
Eventually, after a few long and agonizing minutes, the driver curses under his breath and brings the shuttle to a steady stop. “Finally… we’re here.”
Passengers shift in their seats, some of them murmuring under their breath, others staring wide eyed at the RPD building like it’s a beacon. The older man near you mutters, “If this is safe… I don’t know anymore… ” He shakes his head, unsure of how to feel. “What a joke.”
From the front, the officer shouts. “Everyone, stay together! Move fast once the doors open!”
The engine clicks off and the doors hiss open. You feel a chill of night air drift inside. Outside, the RPD’s steps are crowded with more officers, shouting instructions, trying to guide people inside. You know this building is supposed to be a refuge, but after everything you’ve seen, can any place really be safe anymore? You’re supposed to feel relief, but instead you feel dread settling in your chest.
You take a deep breath and step off the shuttle, following the others towards the main doors of the police station, each step you take feeling heavy with unease.