Apocalypse - A fight against all odds

The sirens pierced Mara's ambitions and drew her into consciousness. Her head throbbed, and memories of her final night shift at the hospital blurred. The early light streaming through her drapes illuminated her studio unit in bright pink. The entire situation felt inappropriate.

Screams reverberated from the road below, followed by the distinct crunch of metal assembly metal. Greater sirens joined the cacophony, blending their wails with terrified human shouts.

"No longer once more," she said, reaching for her phone. The display flashed up with 347 missed calls. There are currently 89 unread messages. Three:fortyseven PM.

She had slept through the entire morning. The last thing she remembered was slipping into bed at daybreak, fatigued from a grueling 12hour shift in the ER. Three trauma instances, two cardiac arrests, and one particularly belligerent patient who bit through an orderly's defensive tools.

She noticed a leatherbound magazine on her nightstand. Mara became icy. She hadn't kept a notebook since high school, but now... The aged leather felt familiar beneath her touch, like an old friend she couldn't quite locate. She grabbed her breath as she began it. The calligraphy reflected her own unique slant, yet the words were foreign:

While you are awake, do not open the door for each individual. They'll arrive in threes. The infection spreads through the blood and saliva. Except for you, a bite approaches demise. Keep in mind that you've seen something before, even if you don't realize it. Trust your intuition. They have previously saved your life.

"What the hell?" 

A crash from around the corner caused her to jump. Mrs. Chen's voice broke through the wall, first in Mandarin, then in English: "Please, David, you are no longer yourself you are on fire. Let me assist "

The sentences culminated in a gurgling scream that made Mara's blood run clear.

Her schooling kicked in, pushing aside the worry that threatened to paralyze her. As an ER nurse, she'd learned to compartmentalize emotions and act rather than react. The rucksack she had stored for emergency shifts came out of her closet. Water bottles, protein bars, and her enormous first resource pack arrived first. The magazine accompanied her, but she couldn't explain why it felt so necessary.

Her father's voice resonated in her memories: "Always be prepared, little soldier." The sector may not wait to catch up."

She had rolled her eyes at his neurotic army preparations back then. Now, as she put on her metaltoed boots and took his antique combat knife from her nightstand drawer, thankfulness replaced the old embarrassment.

The electricity died with a final buzz, throwing the building into an unsettling calm, exacerbated by the turmoil outside and... something else. Something closer.

Shuffling sounds neared her door, accompanied by a wet, ragged breathing pattern that made her skin crawl. Mara looked through the peephole, her heart racing in opposition to her ribs. David Chen stumbled into view. The seventeenyearold honor student she had assisted with biology homework the previous week was no longer there. Blood flowed from his mouth, and his skin was sickly grey. His movements have been jerky and awkward, like a puppet with tangled strings. Behind him, additional figures emerged from the shadows: Mrs. Chen and Mr. Patterson from across the corridor.

They'll be offered in threes.

The lines from the article rushed across her mind. This couldn't be happening. But as David's bloodshot eyes met hers through the peephole, she knew. This turned into reality.

Her phone buzzed, and one last message came through:

Emergency Alert: Take refuge in the area. Infection spreads across the metropolitan area. Avoid interacting with heated people. A military response is on its way. This is not a drill.

The door handle jiggled, the steel screeching in protest as David wrapped his fingers around it with incredible strength.

Mara pulled away, her thoughts racing with alternatives. The fire escape became three windows down the passageway. If only she could get there, but Mrs. Chen and Mr. Patterson were blocking her way. The stairwell could be worse tight quarters, minimal visibility. Without electricity, the elevator became inoperable.

David pounded her door, causing the wood to split. His twisted, grey hand clutched at the air. The stink of decay permeated the pit, making her gag. This was not doable. She had seen David yesterday, healthy and giggling.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Chen," Mara said quietly, grasping her father's knife closer. "I could not keep him."

She grabbed the journal again, drawn to it by an impulse she could not describe. Flipping to the next page, her hands trembled as fresh phrases appeared, penned in the same familiar hand.

The hearth break out is obstructed. Walk through Mr. Patterson's apartment. The window washers' platform is still present from the prior day's maintenance. Do not hesitate; instead, jump. You've survived worse falls.

The door frame broke, sending wood splinters flying inward. Three sets of lifeless eyes remained fixed on her location, monitoring her movements with predatory intent. These weren't her associates anymore. The object with David's face smiled, displaying enamel dyed scarlet.

Mara gripped the knife tighter, her heart pounding in her ears. The journal was correct as soon as. Won't it be proper again? How did it recognize the window cleaners' platform? Why did the handwriting match hers so perfectly?

Questions for later. With one final crack, the door burst inward.

David was the first to lunge, moving faster than a corpse should. Mara dived beneath his hand, muscle memory from years of selfdefense training taking over. The knife found its mark and sank into his temple with a terrible crunch. He dropped like a stone.

Mrs. Chen screamednot a human sound, but something historical and hungry. Mara didn't wait to see what Mr. Patterson would do. She vaulted over David's body and into the corridor.

Mr. Patterson's door became ajar, either as an invitation or as a warning. There is no desire today. She dove into the hole and slammed it behind her. A quick glance revealed the journal's phrases: the window washers' platform hung right outside the entrance, swaying gently in the afternoon air.

Mrs. Chen crashed into the door, causing a shiver. The wood wouldn't last long.

Mara pushed the window wide, and cool air rushed in. There are six testimonies up. The platform hung two feet to her left, just out of comfortable reach. She'd have to bounce.

You have survived worse falls.

As she climbed onto the windowsill, the sentences from the magazine played on her mind. The street below became chaotic, with overturned cars, scattered bodies, and figures shambling with the same odd walk. Within the distance, smoke ascended from downtown.

The door exploded inwards. Mrs. Chen and Mr. Patterson broke through, their movements linked in a way that sent chills down Mara's spine. They were researching and adapting.

"Believe your instincts," Mara said, the journal's words becoming her mantra. "they've kept you alive before."

She jumped.

Time slowed. The wind surged past her ears. The platform grew closer, promising salvation or death.

Her body understood what to do, even though her mind didn't know how. She tucked, rolled, and landed with practiced grace she shouldn't have. The platform trembled precariously, but it held.

Above her, grey faces watched her with inconceivable intelligence. Mrs. Chen tilted her head and studied. Making plans. These were not mindless zombies from horror films. They were worse.

Mara's hand touched the magazine in her rucksack. More questions. Why did she grasp how to circulate like this? Why did the journal anticipate everything? And most importantly, what did it mean about surviving a chew?

An explosion rattled the town. Military helicopters are seen in the horizon.

It's time to move. The platform included controllers. She should reduce it and relocate somewhere more secure. However, as she approached the panel, she noticed movement. The road below had long been quiet. Too quiet.

Hundreds of fiery faces turned upwards gradually and in perfect harmony.

They ha

d been observing. waiting.

And by way or crook, they all knew exactly who she had become.