The sight soured his mood, and Jon couldn't help but think of home.
The news of the death of his last living relative still hurt. He hadn't been able to grieve properly, not with everything that had happened immediately afterward.
Then his mind drifted to others.
His best friend, Alex. His explosive roommate who could turn the smallest inconvenience into an argument.
Then Joe. His idiot roommate who somehow managed to flirt with almost every woman he met.
He thought of Coach Harris and his athletic teammates, the people he trained with. Their faces surfaced in his mind one after another.
For a moment, he could almost pretend they were still there. That everything that had happened since yesterday was some horrible dream.
That he would wake up in his room. Alex would complain about him leaving his shoes in the wrong place, Joe would be laughing about something stupid, and Coach Harris would be shouting at him to stop slouching.
Jon lowered his gaze.
"I hope..." The words refused to come.
He didn't know what he hoped for.
That they were alive? That they had escaped? That they had found somewhere safe?
Or perhaps...that they hadn't suffered.
A sudden voice shattered the silence.
"This wing is free!"
Jon's head snapped toward the window.
Another voice followed. "Let's get inside the houses!"
The voice quickly disappeared, but the countless footsteps thundering across the pavement were impossible to miss.
Jon immediately stood. Icarus was already moving. The girls moved a bit later.
The four of them rushed toward the window.
"What is happening?" Dinah asked.
Trudy stopped a step behind her, supporting her injured arm against Dinah.
Jon didn't answer immediately; his eyes widened.
Icarus's expression changed as well.
Seeing their reactions, Trudy looked between them. "Did something happen?"
They had forgotten.
For a few minutes, perhaps longer, they had become distracted by the record, their traits, the old professor, and the state they were met with when they returned.
They had forgotten the chaos outside.
The state of the other wing of the staff quarters they had witnessed trying to bury the wife of the old professor was now transmigrating over to this wing.
Now it had transferred here.
The people were running into this area, desperately searching for somewhere to hide.
Jon, however, noticed something else.
"It's... already evening?"
They had only buried the old professor that morning. Now the sun was setting, painting the sky in faded orange.
Time had passed without him noticing.
Trudy silently took note of it before returning her gaze to the scene outside.
"Move!"
A crowd of more than forty people—students, staff, and their children—ran across the pavement in search of safety, fear written across their faces.
Then, one of the doors in the staff quarters swung open. Three staff members stood inside, frantically gesturing for the crowd to hurry.
"Get inside!"
Those at the front saw the open door and immediately surged toward it.
"That house!"
Their pace quickened, and they hurried. About seven managed to enter before the doorway became crowded.
"There's still space!"
"Let us in!"
Almost immediately, the doors of two other houses opened.
More people appeared inside, waving the survivors toward them.
"Keep moving!"
Relief spread through the crowd as hope appeared within reach.
Jon, Icarus, Dinah, and Trudy watched in silence. They hadn't made a move to open the door. It had been a silent tactical agreement between them.
The reason was simple.
One of the survivors could be infected.
Opening the door could mean allowing death inside with them.
In a sense, it felt like abandoning their fellow humans. But those who had chosen not to be cautious were already paying the price.
Shouts suddenly erupted from one of the houses following a wave of screams.
The door slammed violently against its frame, and the people outside froze. The next person attempting to enter suddenly jerked backward and stumbled away.
Another house's door slammed shut.
These events instantly spread panic and fear in their hearts.
Then, a group of nine reached the front of the remaining empty house when the man leading them suddenly turned around and raised his hand.
"Wait."
His eyes pulsed faintly green as he stared at something ahead.
Everyone around him slowed.
"What?"
His gaze remained fixed on a woman standing near the edge of the crowd. She was holding a child tightly against her chest.
The woman looked terrified. Her eyes darted from one direction to another as her arms remained wrapped around the child, as though she could protect it from the entire world simply by holding it tightly enough.
The man pointed; his voice was filled with pain.
"Mrs. Peters, that child..."
The woman stared at him, and her eyes widened sharply. She screamed before he could finish.
"No."
She shook her head violently.
"No, it isn't true." Her voice cracked. "My child isn't infected."
The man didn't move. Neither did anyone else. Those around her slowly stepped backward.
For one brief moment, the entire street seemed to hold its breath.
Then the child moved. A low, guttural sound came from its throat.
The woman's expression changed.
"What..."
The child's body twisted violently in her arms, its mouth opened, its teeth sank into her neck.
The woman's scream pierced the evening sky, making everyone nearby recoil in fright.
Blood poured down her shoulder as she staggered backward, still refusing to release the child.
The child's fingers dug into her clothes; its teeth remained buried in her flesh.
It didn't take long for the other houses to notice what was happening, and they began shutting their doors.
The mother desperately tried to pull the child away, but it wouldn't let go.
Her body convulsed for a few seconds before her scream abruptly stopped and her head lowered.
For several seconds, she remained completely still. Then she slowly raised it.
Her eyes were empty, and her skin had begun to pale.
The transformation was almost instantaneous.
Jon's heart thumped. 'It's... faster than yesterday.'
His eyes narrowed. 'Don't tell me...'
"You can see it too?" Icarus asked calmly.
Jon briefly glanced at him before returning his attention to the street. The woman had never released the child. Her arms remained wrapped around it. Blood stained her neck, her clothes, and the child's mouth.
The sight was horrifying.
A mother who had become a monster was still holding her child.
The man who had identified her finally took a step backward.
"Run!"
No one needed to be told twice. Even those who had seemingly lost the will to move forced themselves to their feet and scattered.
The infected woman initially staggered in one direction.
Then she stopped when something caught her attention.
Her head slowly turned, and she looked down.
Something lay on the ground beside her.
A silver book.
It was a Record.
It was abandoned by someone who had just fled.
The woman stared at it.
For several seconds, she didn't move.
Then she crouched and picked it up.
Jon's eyes narrowed. 'What is she doing?'
The infected woman turned the Record over in her hands, then opened her mouth, revealing a clean set of jagged teeth....
And bit down.
Crack!
The silver book shattered beneath her jaws like glass, and the sound reached them despite the distance.
Then a faint silver glow erupted across the woman's body. It crawled beneath her skin like veins of light. Her muscles trembled, and her head suddenly snapped upward.
Her eyes then mechanically locked onto the nearest fleeing figure and moved.
She didn't move or walk fast.
No, this infected creature ran.
Jon's blood ran cold.