Virulent Strain

The evening sky was an unsettling shade of gray, heavy and ominous as if nature itself knew something was coming. Liberty Dharia Crox sat hunched over her laptop in the dim glow of her apartment, the air thick with the stale scent of old coffee and ink-stained notebooks scattered across the small table. She stared at the screen, where fragmented headlines flickered in a digital mosaic of chaos: "Mysterious Mutation Detected", "Cancer Cells Reborn", "Governments Remain Silent."

Her heart raced as she read through the reports. They were scattered now, but the pattern was unmistakable. The mutation had surfaced. And no one knew just how far it could go.

Liberty's fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating. For the first time in years, she felt a chill run through her—not the chill of a cold apartment in the dead of autumn, but the unmistakable presence of something worse. Something she had been chasing since her mother's death.

The world outside her window was eerily quiet, as though the city was holding its breath. Cars moved slower than usual, people hurried through the streets below, but there was no laughter, no chatter. Just the sound of footsteps, hurried and uneasy.

The memory of that last phone call with her mother flickered through Liberty's mind.

"They're using us," her mother had whispered, her voice barely audible. "They're experimenting, Liberty. Cancer cells—they think they've found a cure, but it's not a cure. It's changing. I don't have much time—"

The call had ended abruptly, and Liberty never heard her mother's voice again. Just like that, she was taken. Swallowed by the government's black hole of "isolation centers" during the pandemic. Only, Liberty had discovered the truth—it wasn't isolation. It was experimentation.

Liberty slammed her laptop shut, pushing away from the desk. Her legs were stiff from hours of sitting, her mind too cluttered with what she knew was coming. She stepped toward the window, pulling back the thick curtain to peer outside. The skyline of New York seemed distant, muted. The city's usual vibrancy was dulled by a quiet dread that clung to everything, an invisible fog of fear that people were only just beginning to notice.

Her phone buzzed on the table. The name Lylia Fox flashed on the screen. She quickly grabbed it, answering with a quick, "What is it?"

"You're seeing the reports, right?" Lylia's voice came through, sharp with the urgency of a seasoned journalist who had seen too many disasters unfold. "It's spreading faster than anyone thought."

"I know." Liberty's throat tightened. "It's out of the lab, Lylia. This isn't like before."

There was a pause on the other end. Lylia was one of the few people who knew about the underground research facility Liberty had uncovered. She had been a close confidant, a fellow reporter who'd risked her career by helping Liberty publish stories about corrupt politicians, fraudulent campaigns, and shady medical experiments. Lylia understood the stakes. She knew the price they'd both pay if the truth came to light.

"They're talking about closing borders," Lylia said, her voice low, as though someone could be listening. "Europe is shutting down as we speak. It's not just cases anymore. The mutation is... evolving."

Liberty leaned against the window, the cold glass pressing against her forehead. "Evolving how?"

"They're saying the cancer cells aren't just infecting organs. It's systemic. Once it's in you, it spreads to every part of your body. Fast. The patients—they're not just dying, Lib. They're deteriorating."

Deteriorating. Liberty's mind raced, flashes of the fragmented research she had uncovered flickering in her memory. There had been whispers about this—about the rapid mutation of cells beyond anything the medical community had ever seen. But they'd dismissed it. They'd called it "unconfirmed," "unlikely." And now, it was out of their hands.

"What are we going to do?" Lylia asked. Her usual bravado faltered, fear creeping into her voice for the first time. "If this goes public, there's no telling how people will react. It's going to be chaos."

Liberty took a deep breath, her reflection staring back at her in the darkened window. She didn't have all the answers, but she knew one thing—waiting would only make things worse. She couldn't stay silent.

"I need to publish," Liberty said, her voice firmer now. "People have to know what's happening. The government's been covering this up for too long."

"You're going to expose them?" Lylia's voice held a mix of admiration and fear. "Lib, you'll be a target. You know that, right?"

Liberty turned away from the window, her eyes falling on the file on her desk—Project Virulent. It was everything she had gathered over the years, a collection of damning evidence linking the government to the secret research on cancer cells. The file was thick with secrets, each one darker than the last.

"I'm already a target," Liberty said. "And so are you. But if we don't do this, who will?"

The line went quiet for a moment. Then Lylia's voice came through, steady and resolved. "Alright. Let's blow this wide open."

As the call ended, Liberty sat back down at her desk, her pulse steadying. She knew the dangers—knew that exposing this would put her in the crosshairs of powerful people, people who had silenced others before her. But the mutation was out. There was no going back now.

She opened the file again, scanning through the documents that held the story of her mother's final days. Each page was a reminder of the cost—of what had been taken from her, and what she had to uncover before it was too late. The research facility had been a secret for too long, and now the mutation was spreading unchecked. It wasn't just a matter of public safety anymore. It was a race against time.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she began drafting her exposé. The words formed a warning, each keystroke a step closer to exposing the truth. She knew the risks. She knew that once she hit "publish," there would be no turning back.

But the world needed to know.

The first sign of the apocalypse wasn't loud. It didn't come in the form of fire or a bang. It was a whisper. A mutation. And it had already begun.

Exhausted, Liberty collapsed onto her bed, her body giving in to the fatigue that had gnawed at her for days. As her eyes fluttered shut, the muted sounds of the city lulled her into a restless sleep. The world, for now, was still.

When she woke, the city was screaming.

The distant sound of sirens pierced the air, a cacophony of alarms, shouts, and something else—something darker that made her heart skip a beat. Liberty bolted upright, her body trembling as she scrambled to the window.

The streets below were in chaos. Cars abandoned in the middle of the road, smoke rising from the distance, and the once-calm crowds now running in terror. Through the fog of sleep, she could see it clearly: the world was falling apart.

Her phone buzzed with dozens of notifications—emergency broadcasts, messages from Lylia, alerts from news channels. One headline stood out in glaring red: "MUTATION UNLEASHED: GLOBAL STATE OF EMERGENCY DECLARED."

Liberty's blood ran cold. It had begun.

The apocalypse wasn't coming. It was already here.