Maarg couldn't stand being cooped up in Jack's tiny room. The space was actually his brother Amar's, but ever since Amar went abroad for his research, their parents had rented it out. Maarg and Jack were good friends, so sharing a room felt no different from a sleepover, but the thought of Sammy sleeping comfortably in Maarg's bed—his bed—gnawed at him. He needed a break.
The night was cool, the stars barely visible through the smog that had started settling over the city. Maarg stood by the window of Jack's room, looking toward the abandoned house of the old neighborhood couple, the Whitakers. It was his secret hideout and a perfect safe haven since no one lived there and one of the windows had been slightly ajar for months. He had discovered it ages ago, a perfect escape to think, be alone, and get away from his everyday troubles.
Maybe I'll feel better if I go there for a while.
Without a second thought, Maarg climbed onto the windowsill and leapt across the narrow alley. It was a jump he had tried countless times—sometimes barely making it, other times scraping his knees on the ledge. But this time, he felt... different.
Stronger.
He landed smoothly, without any of the awkward flailing he was used to.
Weird.
Ignoring the strange ease with which he made the jump, Maarg slipped through the slightly ajar window. The familiar scent of dust and old wood greeted him, and he let out a sigh of relief.
But something was... off.
The room wasn't as he had left it. The makeshift pile of pillows and blankets he had set up in the corner was gone. The air was warmer and had a sweet floral smell, and the dim light from the streetlamp outside cast an unfamiliar glow on freshly folded clothes near the window.
Wait... clothes?
Before his mind could fully register the change, a sudden warm smack landed on the back of his head. It wasn't hard—just enough to snap him out of his thoughts.
"What the—" Maarg stumbled back, his hand flying to his head.
"Maarg?!"
His eyes widened as he looked up. Standing before him, her pale blonde hair damp and clinging to her face and a towel wrapped tightly around her slim frame, was Remmy.
"Remmy?!" Maarg's voice cracked as he blinked rapidly, trying to convince himself he wasn't hallucinating.
Remmy's expression shifted from shock to annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Maarg opened his mouth but nothing came out. His brain was still trying to process the situation. "I should be asking you that!" he finally managed to blurt out.
Remmy's eyes narrowed. "This is my grandparents' house. I've been staying here ever since... well, since this stupid virus started."
"Wait... your grandparents' house?" Maarg's mind raced. He had been sneaking into this place for months. "I thought it was abandoned!"
"Clearly not," Remmy muttered, adjusting the towel around herself, her cheeks turning slightly pink as she realized how exposed she was. "And what's your excuse for breaking in?"
"I didn't break in!" Maarg protested, rubbing the back of his head. "I... I just needed some space. I've been using this place as my hideout for a while."
"Your hideout?" Remmy raised an eyebrow. "You've been squatting in my grandparents' house?"
"Not squatting... more like... borrowing?" Maarg gave her an awkward grin, which quickly faded under her icy glare.
Before either of them could say anything else, a loud thud echoed from outside the window. Both of them froze.
"What was that?" Remmy whispered, her expression shifting from annoyance to concern.
Maarg's playful demeanor vanished as his senses sharpened. "Stay here," he murmured, moving toward the window.
"Like hell I'm staying here alone," Remmy hissed, following him.
Maarg glanced back at her, noticing the fear flickering in her eyes.
"Fine," he whispered. "But stay behind me."
As they crept toward the window, the eerie silence that followed sent a chill down Maarg's spine.
Something was out there. And whatever it was... it wasn't good.
***
Maarg's grip on the window tightened as he stared at the alley below. The dim streetlight flickered, casting eerie shadows across the cracked pavement.
At first, he thought it was just another cat or raccoon—
But then he saw it,
Not a cat or a raccoon,
A man.
Dressed in hazmat suit.
Maarg's brow furrowed. He recognized that suit. Jack had described it before, mentioned a man wearing the same thing—someone who had approached him and Sammy not too long ago.
"What the hell…" Maarg muttered under his breath.
Remmy, still adjusting her towel, followed his gaze. Her confusion mirrored his. "Why is someone in a hazmat suit just standing there?"
The man wasn't moving much. He simply stood at the far end of the alley, with his hand on his side and facing them as if he was trying to warn them about something
Then, suddenly, the sound of something shuffling nearby caught their attention.
Further down the alley, a lone infected emerged from the shadows. Its body was frail, skin stretched impossibly tight over its skull and rough hair covering his dead eyes. It moved sluggishly at first, dragging its feet until—
It Stopped and stared directly at Maarg.
Then, it smiled.
A grotesque, twisted grin lips pulling back far beyond what should be possible, exposing jagged, bloodied teeth. Its hollow eyes locked onto Maarg's, as if recognizing him.
A shiver ran down Remmy's spine. "Did that thing just—"
But before she could finish, something even stranger happened.
Maarg smiled back.
Not out of amusement. Not out of fear.
Just instinct.
A part of him responded to that horrifying grin like it was natural.
Remmy took a step back. "Uh, Maarg?"
But Maarg wasn't listening.
His body moved, before his mind even processed it.
With fluid, almost inhuman precision, he leapt onto the windowsill.
Then—
He jumped.
Remmy's eyes widened in horror. "MAARG—!"
He twisted mid-air, kicking off the base of the window with such force that it sent him diving downward at an impossible angle.
His body became a blur.
And in one seamless motion—
His arm swung.
Something sliced.
A wet, sickening sound filled the air.
The zombie's grotesque smile remained frozen in place, even as its head separated from its body.
A clean cut. Effortless.
But Maarg wasn't done.
Before his feet even touched the ground, he pushed off the wall, twisting his body again. Using the momentum from his fall, he parkoured off the alley walls, flipping upward, grabbing onto the ledge, and pulling himself back inside—
All in under forty-five seconds.
Remmy didn't move. She didn't blink. She didn't breathe.
Her brain simply couldn't process what had just happened.
Maarg, now standing beside her, rolled his shoulder and exhaled like he had just stretched after a nap.
Remmy slowly turned her head toward him.
"What…"
She swallowed.
"What the FUCK was that?"
Maarg stood there, breathing heavily. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from confusion. He looked down at his hands, still feeling the phantom sensation of his blade cutting through the zombie's neck.
That… that wasn't normal.
He had moved like no human should be able to. The jump, the speed, the sheer precision—it was unnatural.
Remmy hadn't said a word yet. She was staring at him, her wide eyes filled with something between shock and fear. Maarg could see her trying to process what had just happened, but she looked completely lost.
"…Remmy?" Maarg said, forcing his voice to stay steady.
She took a small step back. "What… what the hell was that?"
"I—" Maarg hesitated. What could he even say? He didn't understand it himself. "I don't know."
Remmy's breathing was uneven, her grip tightening on the towel still wrapped around her. Maarg could tell she was about two seconds away from freaking out.
"Remmy, just… just breathe, okay?" Maarg took a slow step forward, making sure not to move too fast. "I swear, I didn't mean to scare you."
She let out a shaky breath, her eyes scanning him for any sign of an answer. "That wasn't… human, Maarg."
"I know," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know what's happening, but I swear, I'm still *me*."
Remmy didn't look convinced, but she also didn't run. That was a good sign.
After a tense moment, she swallowed hard and spoke. "…You should go."
Maarg nodded. He had already pushed things too far for one night. "Alright."
Without another word, he turned and climbed onto the windowsill. With practiced ease, he leapt across the alley, landing back at his own house. He hesitated for a second, glancing back toward Remmy's window, but she had already disappeared inside.
With a quiet sigh, Maarg slipped into the room and shut the window behind him.
Jack was already asleep, his steady breathing the only sound in the room.
Maarg stood there in the dark, staring at the ceiling.
What the hell was happening to him?
He clenched his fists, willing himself to stop thinking about it. Whatever it was, he'd figure it out later.
Right now, he needed sleep.
Shoving all his thoughts to the back of his mind, Maarg lay down and closed his eyes.
Leaving the questions of today to be answered tomorrow.