Next day, the morning sunlight filtered through the windows as the group gathered at the dinner table. Dr. Jenkins sat among them, his face drawn and tired, the evidence of a sleepless night etched in the shadows beneath his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about Yve, about her blood, about the impossible discoveries he'd made. How could he? The weight of it gnawed at him, pulling his focus back to her again and again.
Laughter rippled around the table as Ethan recounted a clumsy mishap during a supply run yesterday, even earning a faint grin from Dylan.
Dr. Jenkins stood up, not finishing his breakfast. The eggs on his plate had barely been touched, and the coffee had gone cold.
"You should really finish your meal," Elena said gently, her brow furrowed with concern.
He gave her a faint smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm already full," he replied, pushing the chair back with a soft scrape. "Besides, I just want to get back to the lab. He nodded his thanks to the group. "Breakfast was great. Really."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked down the hall, the door to his lab stood slightly ajar, as if it had been waiting for him No one questioned Dr. Jenkins. No one followed. The group exchanged a few glances but said nothing. One by one, they returned to their plates, the clinking of cutlery filling the silence he left behind.
Inside the lab, Dr. Jenkins resumed his work. He walked over to the far end of the room and retrieved a thick folder from a locked drawer. The label on the front read: Case File: EVE-1
He set it down on his desk with deliberate care, the weight of its contents heavier than paper alone. Taking a seat, he opened it and began reviewing the notes he had scribbled the night before—half-formed hypotheses, protein sequence sketches, and a timeline that was starting to look dangerously short.
To his right, a monitor displayed high-resolution images of blood samples under a microscope. The blood he had extracted yesterday from Yve.
Dr. Jenkins then started to create a hypothesis, his thoughts racing as he reached for the vial containing Yve's plasma—the same luminous, iridescent fluid he had separated yesterday using the centrifuge. He moved with precision, retrieving a clean glass slide and a sterile pipette. Drawing a small amount of the plasma, he carefully released a few drops onto the slide. The liquid spread slowly, thicker than normal plasma, clinging to the glass like oil on water.
Jenkins placed a cover slip over the sample, then slid it beneath the microscope's lens. His fingers adjusted the focus with practiced ease, the familiar hum of the equipment grounding him as he leaned in to observe.
That afternoon, the clang of metal echoed through the mobility wing as Ethan wiped sweat from his brow, crouched beside the open hood of a military truck. Tools were scattered across the floor. "Try it now," Ethan called out.
The engine sputtered, coughed, then died again. "Damn thing's older than I am," Derek muttered, standing nearby with arms crossed. He wasn't much for engines, but he knew how to spot a bad weld or a failing support beam from a mile away.
As Ethan dove back under the hood, Derek's eyes wandered—habit, instinct. The concrete wall near the far corner caught his attention. A thin, jagged crack ran from the floor up to the ceiling, barely noticeable in the dim light.
He frowned. "Hold up a sec," he said, walking toward it. As he got closer, he saw fine dust on the floor beneath it—fresh. He knelt, ran a calloused finger through it, then followed the line upward with his eyes. It wasn't straight. It branched, like a spiderweb, disappearing into the ceiling.
Derek's gut tightened.
He turned and followed the crack's path along the wall, tracing it to a support column near the back of the wing. The column had a hairline fracture running vertically, and the concrete around its base looked… off. Uneven. Sunken.
He crouched again, pressing his palm to the floor. It was cool, but he could feel a faint vibration—not from the truck, but from beneath.
"Ethan," he called, voice low. "Shut it down. Ethan looked up, confused. "What's wrong?"
Derek stood slowly, eyes still on the column. "This place is shifting. The foundation's moving." Ethan's face paled. "You sure?"
Derek turned to Ethan. "Go get Lucas and David. Now." Derek's voice cut through the air like a blade. Ethan didn't ask questions—he dropped the wrench and sprinted out of the mobility wing.
Moments later, Lucas and David arrived, both alert and scanning the area. Lucas still had a smudge of oil on his cheek, and David's sleeves were rolled up, tension already in his jaw. "What is it?" Lucas asked, eyes narrowing.
Derek didn't speak. He simply pointed to the far wall. They followed his gesture. At first glance, it looked like nothing—just a faint line in the concrete. But as they stepped closer, they saw the hairline crack running up the wall, branching like a spiderweb. A fine layer of fresh dust had settled at the base.
David crouched, brushing his fingers through the dust. "This is recent."
Lucas knelt beside him, tracing the crack with his eyes. "It's not just cosmetic. That's a stress fracture."
Derek nodded. "It runs all the way to that support column. I checked the base—there's a shift in the floor. Slight, but it's there."
David stood slowly. "Could be water damage. Or pressure from the upper levels."
Lucas looked around the wing. "This place was built fast. Emergency funding rushed construction. Four years of no maintenance, no inspections… it adds up."
Derek crossed his arms. "I've seen this before. Back in the Corps, we had a forward base with a similar crack. Everyone thought it was just moisture. Two weeks later, the roof caved in."
The three men stood in silence, the weight of the observation settling in. David finally spoke. "We need to talk to Jenkins. He's been here the longest. If anyone knows how this place was built—or what's under it—it's him."
Lucas nodded. "Let's not panic. Could be nothing. But if it's something…"
Derek finished the thought. "Then we need to know before it becomes everything."
The four men moved quickly through the dim corridors of the VIRA Complex. The air was still, the hum of old machinery echoing faintly around them. Ethan led the way, glancing back occasionally to make sure Derek, David, and Lucas were close behind.
They reached Dr. Jenkins' lab, where the scientist was hunched over a microscope, completely absorbed.
"Jenkins," Lucas called out. The doctor didn't respond at first. "Jenkins!," David repeated, louder while softly banging on the glass wall.
Startled, Jenkins looked up, blinking behind his glasses. He raised a hand, signaling them to wait, then turned to a nearby sink. With practiced precision, he removed his gloves, sanitized his hands, and peeled off his lab coat before stepping out of the sterile zone. "What is it?" he asked, drying his hands on a towel.
"We need to see the blueprints of this place," Lucas said.
Jenkins frowned. "Blueprints?"
"Structural layout, foundation plans, anything," David added. "Something's not right in the mobility wing."
Jenkins looked between them, reading the seriousness in their expressions. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Follow me."
He led them down a side corridor, past flickering lights and peeling signage, until they reached a heavy steel door marked: "Infrastructure Records Room." The faded lettering was barely legible beneath a layer of grime, and the keypad beside the door buzzed faintly as Jenkins keyed in his credentials.
As the heavy steel door to the Infrastructure Records Room groaned open, Lucas lingered behind the others, his brow furrowed. He glanced at the keypad, then at Jenkins, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "Wait a second," Lucas said, his voice low but firm. "You're a scientist. How the hell do you have access to this room?"
Dr. Jenkins didn't look back at him right away. He stepped inside, the stale air curling around him as he scanned the dust-covered cabinets. Only after a pause did he speak, his tone flat. "I was consulted during the early phases of construction," he said, brushing a layer of dust off a nearby filing cabinet. "Before this place even had a name."
Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Consulted? For what?"
Jenkins turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "The government needed a senior virologist to help design a containment wing. But that wasn't all. They wanted a chamber—off the books. Hidden. Something only a few people would know about." He tapped the side of his temple. "They needed someone who understood what kind of threat they were preparing for. And someone who could keep a secret."
Lucas stared at him for a moment longer, then stepped inside without another word.
The door hissed shut behind them. Filing cabinets lined the walls, and a thick layer of dust coated the shelves. Jenkins moved with purpose, flipping through drawers and folders until he pulled out a large, rolled-up set of documents. "Here," he said, unrolling the blueprints across a table. "These are the original construction plans. The complex was built in phases—this wing was one of the last."
David and Lucas leaned in, scanning the lines and annotations. Lucas traced a finger along the mobility wing's outline, then tapped a section near the foundation. "This area here," he murmured. "It's built over a reinforced sublevel. But there's a note— 'temporary stabilization pending full support installation.'"
David's brow furrowed. "They never finished reinforcing it."
Jenkins looked up. "It was rushed. The outbreak had already started. They were more focused on sealing the labs and securing the research."
Derek crossed his arms. "So we've been living above a half-finished foundation."
Jenkins looked between them, concern creeping into his features. "You think it's serious?"
Lucas didn't answer right away. He just kept staring at the blueprint, the lines and numbers suddenly feeling heavier than ink. "We don't know yet," he said. "But we're going to find out."
The blueprint lay stretched across the table, its edges curling slightly from age. Lucas leaned over the plans, his brow furrowed. David stood beside him, arms folded, eyes scanning the annotations. Derek hovered near the door, quiet but alert. Ethan sat on the edge of a filing cabinet, watching them all with a mix of curiosity and unease.
Jenkins stood off to the side, arms crossed. "You're sure it's not just surface damage?"
Lucas didn't look up. "We're not sure of anything yet. That's the problem."
Ethan looked between them. "So what's the plan?"
Lucas straightened. "We go back. Take a closer look. Check the column, the floor, the ceiling. If there's a pattern to the cracks, we'll find it."
David nodded. "And if we're wrong, we lose an hour. If we're right…"
Derek muttered, "We might be standing on borrowed time."
Jenkins looked uneasy but said nothing. He moved to the side, pulling open a drawer and handing Lucas a flashlight and a folded measuring tape. "Take these. And be careful."
Lucas gave a small nod. "We will."
The four men exchanged a glance—no panic, just a shared understanding. Then they turned and left the room, heading back toward the mobility wing, where the silence was starting to feel heavier than before.
The mobility wing was quiet when they returned, Lucas led the way, blueprint still rolled under his arm. David, Derek, and Ethan followed, their footsteps echoing softly in the wide space. They stopped near the cracked support column. Lucas crouched first, running his fingers along the fracture. "Still dry," he murmured. "No signs of water seepage."
David knelt beside him, pulling out the measuring tape Jenkins had given them. He extended it across the crack's width. "Three millimeters. Not huge, but enough to raise a flag."
Derek moved to the base of the column, tapping it lightly with the butt of a wrench. The sound was dull—off. "Hear that? Should be sharper. That's stress."
Lucas stood and scanned the ceiling. "There's a hairline running across the slab. Matches the direction of the wall crack."
David nodded. "Could be settling. Could be a shift in the subgrade."
Ethan hovered nearby, watching. "What does that mean?"
Lucas looked at him. "It means the ground underneath might be sinking. Slowly. Could be natural. Could be structural fatigue."
Derek added, "Or both. If they rushed the foundation, didn't reinforce it properly, even a small shift could start pulling the supports apart."
David stood, brushing dust from his hands. "We need to check the sublevel. If there's a crawlspace or utility access, we'll see what's really going on."
Lucas nodded. "Let's find the hatch. If there's pressure building underneath, we'll feel it down there."
They moved with quiet purpose, scanning the floor for access panels or maintenance hatches. The air felt heavier now—not dangerous, not yet—but like the building itself was holding its breath.
The hatch groaned as David pried it open, revealing a narrow shaft leading into darkness. A rusted ladder descended into the sublevel, the air below thick with dust and the scent of old metal. Lucas clicked on his flashlight. "I'll go first."
He disappeared into the shadows, boots clanging softly against the rungs. David followed, then Ethan and Derek remained above, watching the hatch like it might swallow them too.
The sublevel was cramped—barely tall enough to stand upright. Pipes lined the low ceiling, some dripping slowly into puddles that had formed along the uneven floor. The walls were concrete, stained and cracked in places, with exposed rebar peeking through like bones beneath skin.
Lucas swept his light across the space. "This is directly beneath the mobility wing."
David crouched near a support beam, brushing away debris. "Look at this." He pointed to a hairline fracture running along the base of the column. "It's not just above. It's mirrored down here."
Lucas knelt beside him. "The rebar's rusting. That's not good. If moisture's been seeping in, it's weakening the core."
David ran a hand along the beam. "Feel that? It's bowed. Slightly. But enough to tell me this place is under stress."
Above them, Ethan shifted anxiously. "What does that mean? Like… is it going to fall?"
Lucas looked up toward the hatch. "Not yet. But it's not stable either."
David added, "It's like a bruise under the skin. You don't see the damage until it's too late."
Lucas stood, brushing dust from his knees. "We need to check the other columns. If this one's compromised, the others might be too."
David agreed. "And we need to tell Jenkins. If there's a structural chain reaction waiting to happen, he needs to know what's sitting below his lab."
Ethan looked down into the hatch again, his gut twisting. He didn't understand the technical terms, but he understood tension. He understood silence that felt too heavy.
Back at the lab, Dr. Jenkins, kept his hypotheses to himself, though his mind was racing. Setting down his pen, he stood abruptly, he grabbed the medicine kit from the shelf, snapping it shut with practiced efficiency. Without hesitation, he crossed the lab and tapped his ID card against the panel beside the reinforced metal door. A soft beep sounded, followed by the hiss of hydraulics as the door slid open.
He stepped into the corridor, his expression unreadable, the kit clutched tightly in one hand.
At the main hall, he called out. "Yve, his tone calm but purposeful, "I'd like to check your hands. Your wounds, I mean. It's important to keep them clean and rebandaged."
Yve stiffened slightly, her cheerful expression faltering as her eyes darted to her bandaged palms. She hesitated, her silence spoke volumes, and Jenkins's heart skipped as he watched her reaction. She *knew.* Or, at least, she suspected.
Dylan, ever watchful, noticed Yve's unease and gave her a small, reassuring nod, silently conveying that it was alright.
Jenkins approached her with the medical kit in hand, his movements deliberate and careful. "This won't take long," he assured her, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his anticipation. Kneeling slightly, he laid out his hands, gesturing for her to give him her bandaged palms.
Gently, as though handling something fragile, he began removing the bandages, his fingers precise and cautious. The gauze fell away in layers, exposing her smooth, unmarked skin beneath. Jenkins's breath hitched, his hand freezing mid-motion as he stared down at her palms.
There was nothing. Not a single scratch, not a trace of the wounds inflicted by the broken glass. Her skin was flawless, as though it had never been harmed. Jenkins flipped her hands carefully, examining every angle, every crease. The injury from just the day before—the glass that had sliced into her palms, drawing blood—was gone. Completely gone.
The second support column stood near the far end of the mobility wing, partially shadowed by a parked military truck. Derek and Ethan approached it from above, scanning the area with flashlights. Crackling static came through Ethan's handheld radio, followed by Lucas's voice: "We're directly beneath the second column now. Visibility's low, but we've got it in sight."
David's voice followed. "We're seeing the same signs as the first. Hairline fracture at the base. Rebar's exposed. Slight bowing in the beam."
Derek pressed the radio's button. "Copy that. We're checking the surface."
Ethan moved slowly around the column, his boots crunching over fine dust. He tilted his head, squinting at the ceiling. "Uh… guys?" he said into the radio. "There's a crack up here too. Real thin, but it's running the same direction as the one you found earlier."
Lucas's voice came back, calm but focused. "Where exactly?"
Ethan stepped back, angling his flashlight. "Right above the beam. And the floor… I don't know. It feels off. Like it's not solid. There's this…vibration. Barely there, but I can feel it in my boots."
A pause.
Then David's voice: "That's the third sign."
Lucas added, "Crack below, crack above, and now surface instability. It's aligning."
Derek crouched near the hatch, speaking into his own radio. "You think it's spreading?"
Lucas responded, "It's not isolated. That much is clear."
David's voice was lower now. "We're seeing a pattern. Stress fractures forming along the same axis."
Ethan tightened his grip on the radio. "I don't know anything about structures, but this place… it feels like it's holding its breath."
Lucas's voice came back, quieter. "That's not a bad way to put it."
David again: "We need to check the third column. If it's showing the same signs…"
Derek finished the thought from above. "Then we've got a real problem."
There was a pause on the line, then Lucas's voice, steady: "We're moving to the next section. Keep eyes on the surface."
The sublevel narrowed as Lucas and David moved deeper beneath the mobility wing. Their flashlights cut through the dust, illuminating rusted pipes and aging concrete. Lucas's voice crackled through the radio. "We're approaching the third column now. Stand by."
Above, Derek and Ethan stood near the surface marker for the column, watching the floor with growing unease. Ethan's grip on the radio tightened.
David crouched first, sweeping his light across the base of the third support. "Damn," he muttered. "This one's worse."
Lucas knelt beside him. The concrete at the base was crumbling slightly, the crack wider than the previous two. A faint moisture stain darkened the surrounding area, and the rebar inside was visibly corroded. "We've got a deeper fracture," Lucas reported. "Moisture intrusion. Rebar's rusted through in spots."
David ran a hand along the base. "There's soil shifting here. You feel that?" He pressed his palm to the floor. "It's soft. Like the ground's pulling away."
Above, Ethan's voice came through the radio, tense. "Guys… I think a new crack just formed up here. I swear it wasn't there five minutes ago."
Derek leaned down, inspecting the floor. "He's right. It's running perpendicular to the others. Small, but fresh."
Lucas and David exchanged a look in the dim sublevel. "That confirms it," Lucas said. "We're looking at progressive failure. The stress is traveling."
David nodded grimly. "It's not just one bad column. The whole wing's under pressure."
Ethan's voice came through again, quieter this time. "So what does that mean? Is it gonna collapse?"
Lucas didn't answer right away. He stood slowly, brushing dust from his hands. "Not yet. But it's moving. And if it keeps moving…"
David finished the thought. "It won't stop on its own."
Derek's voice came through, steady. "You need to get back up here. We need to talk to Jenkins. Now."
Lucas gave one last look at the fractured base, then turned toward the crawlspace corridor. "Copy that. We're on our way."
The sound of boots scuffing against concrete echoed through the mobility wing as Dylan stepped in from the far corridor, his tomahawk slung over his shoulder, a half-eaten protein bar in his hand. He paused when he saw Ethan and Derek crouched near the third column, both focused on the floor like it was whispering secrets. He raised an eyebrow. "Y'all lookin' for buried treasure or somethin'?"
Derek didn't look up. "Just checking something."
Dylan took another bite, chewing slowly. "You seen David or Lucas?"
Before Ethan could answer, the hatch near the far wall clanged open. Lucas and David emerged from the sublevel, moving fast—faces tight, steps urgent.
Dylan straightened. "What's the rush?"
David didn't slow down. "I'll explain later—we need to get to Jenkins."
Lucas was already halfway down the corridor.
Ethan scrambled to his feet. "Dylan! Come on!"
Dylan blinked, still chewing. "The hell's goin' on?"
"Just come!" Ethan called over his shoulder, already jogging after the others.
Dylan hesitated for half a second, then tossed the rest of the protein bar aside. He adjusted the strap on his tomahawk and muttered, "Ain't never simple with you people," before breaking into a jog to catch up.
The group moved fast through the corridor, boots pounding against the concrete floor. David led the way, followed closely by Lucas, Ethan, Derek, and a still-confused Dylan.
They reached the lab—only to find it empty. David stopped short. "He's not here?"
Lucas scanned the room. "He was just here earlier."
Dylan said. "If you're lookin' for Jenkins, he's in the main hall. Patchin' up Yve."
David blinked. "And you didn't think to mention that before we ran the whole damn hallway?"
Dylan shrugged, deadpan. "Didn't know y'all were in such a hurry. Thought you were just doin' laps."
Ethan huffed, half-laughing, half-exhausted. "Come on, man."
Lucas cut in, sharp. "No time to argue. Let's go." Without another word, he broke into a sprint, while the others followed, Dylan falling in step at the rear, still trying to piece together what the hell was going on.
They rounded the corner into the main hall, Dr. Jenkins was kneeling beside Yve, carefully wrapping a gauze bandage around her palm. A medical kit and cotton pads sat beside them. Yve looked up, surprised by the sudden rush of footsteps. Jenkins glanced over his shoulder. "What—?"
Lucas didn't slow down. "We need to talk. Now."
Dr. Jenkins stood slowly, his hands still stained faintly with antiseptic. "What's going on?"
Lucas didn't hesitate. He unrolled the blueprint and slammed it onto the nearest table. "The foundation's failing. Three columns—cracked, bowed, rusted through. The sublevel's shifting."
David stepped forward, voice sharp. "We found moisture intrusion, exposed rebar, and fresh fractures forming in real time. This place is under stress—and it's spreading."
Derek added, "It's not isolated. The cracks are aligning across the wing. The ground's moving beneath us."
A beat of silence.
Then chaos.
Taylor's eyes widened as she instinctively pulled Tyler closer. "Wait—what do you mean the ground's moving?"
Joan backed away from the table, her voice rising. "Are you saying this place is going to collapse?"
Ethan nodded grimly. "If it keeps going like this, yeah. It's not just one bad column—it's the whole damn wing."
Maurice stepped forward, fists clenched. "How long do we have?"
Lucas shook his head. "We don't know. Could be hours. Could be minutes. But we can't risk staying here."
Jenkins looked stunned. "The mobility wing holds our vehicles, our supplies—"
David cut in. "And if it goes down, it'll take all of that with it. Maybe more."
Lara stood, her hand gripping her gun. "Then we move. Now."
The room was already tense—voices overlapping, panic rising—when the lights flickered.
A low hum vibrated through the floor, followed by a sharp beep-beep-beep from the ceiling speakers. Then, a mechanical voice echoed through the VIRA Complex, distorted slightly by age and static:
"⚠️ Structural Collapse Imminent. Estimated time to failure: 35 minutes. Evacuation is advised."
Everyone froze.
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
"What the hell was that?" Joan whispered, eyes wide.
Jenkins turned pale. "That's the SCWS. Structural Collapse Warning System. It was installed during construction—meant to detect foundational instability."
Derek's voice was low. "Guess it still works."
David stepped forward. "It's not a drill. We've seen the damage. The system's just confirming it."
Taylor clutched Tyler's hand tighter. "Twenty-seven minutes? That's not enough time!"
Elena pulled Lily close, her voice shaking. "We need to move. Now."
But not everyone agreed.
Maurice frowned. "What if it's a false alarm? That system hasn't been touched in years. "We've got time to grab what we need," Joan added. "We can't just leave everything behind."
Lucas slammed his hand on the table. "We don't have time to argue. Every second we waste is a second closer to collapse."
Yve looked to Jenkins. "Is there any way to shut it off? Confirm if it's real?"
Jenkins shook his head. "It's not a trigger system. It doesn't cause the collapse—it just warns us. And based on what you found…" He trailed off, eyes darting to the ceiling as a faint crack echoed above them. Dust drifted down from a corner of the room.
Ethan muttered, "That's not a false alarm."
Lucas turned to the group. "We split up. Essentials only. Medical, food, weapons. We regroup at the east corridor in ten minutes."
The group scattered, urgency replacing panic. The countdown had begun—and the VIRA Complex was no longer a sanctuary.
It was a trap with a ticking clock.
The warning still echoed faintly through the halls as the group scattered like a well-trained unit under fire. Dr. Jenkins sprinted back to his lab, heart pounding. He tapped his ID and went straight for the desk, yanking open drawers and stuffing folders, vials, USB, and hard drives into a weathered leather briefcase. His hands trembled as he grabbed a small pushcart from the corner-lightweight, collapsible, and designed for fieldwork. He loaded it with portable diagnostic tools, a centrifuge, sealed blood samples, and a compact solar-powered analyzer.
He paused only once at the shelf above his desk. A single, dust-covered frame sat there. A photo of his wife and daughter, taken long before the world fell apart. He grabbed it, tucked it into the briefcase, and whispered, "Not leaving you behind."
Then he was gone, pushing the cart as he raced toward the east corridor.
In the mobility wing, the air was thick with dust and tension. David, Maurice, and Ethan moved fast, grabbing crates of ammunition, rations, and tactical gear. The reinforced doors groaned as they were pulled open, revealing the military vehicles inside-hulking, dust-covered beasts of steel and survival.
Dylan was already in the driver's seat of the SilentHawk Hybrid, flipping switches and coaxing the engine to life. The vehicle purred-quiet, efficient, and ready.
"Let's go, let's go!" David barked, tossing a duffel bag into the back of a military truck.
Maurice slammed a crate shut. "We're not gonna make it if we don't move now!"
Ethan climbed into the passenger seat of the second truck, checking the fuel gauge. "We're green. Let's roll!"
Engines roared to life-one after another-filling the wing with the sound of urgency.
Then came the crack.
A sharp, splintering sound from the ceiling above the third column. Concrete dust rained down. A hairline fracture split across the floor, racing toward the center of the wing like a lightning bolt.
David looked up. "Move! Now!"
They threw the last of the gear into the trucks and jumped in. Dylan spun the Silent Howk around, leading the convoy toward the east corridor.
Back at the corridor, Yve stood with Lucas, watching the vehicles approach. Jenkins arrived seconds later, panting, his pushcart rattling behind him.
"I've got everything I can carry," he said breathlessly.
Lucas nodded. "Good. Load it up."
The countdown echoed again: "Structural Collapse Imminent. Estimated time to failure: 18 minutes. Evacuation is advised."
The ground trembled beneath their feet as they shoved their supplies into the back of the trucks.
The countdown blared overhead: "Structural Collapse Imminent. Estimated time to failure: 10 minutes. Evacuation is advised."
The last of the crates were being shoved into the backs of the military trucks. The engines rumbled to life one by one, headlights cutting through the dust-choked air. The van was already packed-supplies stacked to the ceiling, with Lily and Tyler huddled in the backseat, wide-eyed and silent.
Derek climbed into the driver's seat, glancing back at the kids. "Hey," he said gently, trying to keep his voice steady. "Y'all safe, alright? We're just going for a little ride. Everything's gonna be fine."
Lily clutched her stuffed dolphin tighter. Tyler nodded while holding Lily's hands tighter.
Outside, chaos.
Lucas slammed the back of the van shut and pounded twice on the side. "Go!" he shouted.
Derek didn't hesitate. He shifted into gear and peeled away from the VIRA Complex, tires kicking up gravel. He drove just far enough to clear the danger zone, parking on a ridge where the structure was still visible-but distant enough to be safe.
Back at the complex, the rest of the group was still loading the final truck when a shriek pierced the air. Ethan froze. "Incoming!"
From the treeline, a couple of shriekers burst into view-limbs jerking, mouths wide. David raised his rifle and fired one, two, three shots. Each one found its mark, dropping the lead shriekers mid-sprint.
Ethan joined him, picking off the ones that veered too close. "Keep loading!" he shouted. "We've got this!"
Lucas threw the last crate into the truck bed and slammed the tailgate shut. "Mount up! Now!"
One by one, the trucks roared to life and peeled away from the crumbling complex.
David was the first to go, his truck packed with crates of ammunition and rations. He didn't look back, next was Ethan, with Dr. Jenkins in the passenger seat, clutching his briefcase.
Lucas followed, Elena and Taylor in the backseat.
Then Maurice, with Lara and Joan-his knuckles white on the steering wheel, jaw clenched as the countdown echoed in his ears.
"Structural Collapse Imminent. Estimated time to failure: 4 minutes. Evacuation is advised."
Dylan revved the engine of the SilentHawk hybrid, the sleek black motorcycle humming beneath him. He looked over his shoulder. "Yve! Let's go!"
Yve was halfway onto the bike when something made her freeze.
Her eyes widened. Without a word, she turned and ran-back toward the complex. "Yve!" Dylan shouted, panic flaring in his cheat. "What the hell are you doing?!"
But she was already gone, sprinting down the corridor, boots pounding against trembling concrete. She passed the main room, ducked into a side hallway, and threw open the door to one of the old bunker rooms.
There, on the table, untouched and forgotten, sat the small music box Dylan had given her-its silver surface dulled by dust, but still whole.
She grabbed it.
Behind her, Dylan burst into the room, his voice sharp with fear. "You risked your life for that?!"
Yve turned, clutching the box to her chest. "It's not just a box."
Dylan didn't argue. He grabbed her hand. "We're leaving. Now."
They ran. The ground shook violently beneath them, knocking them off balance. They hit the floor hard, the music box skidding across the concrete. Yve scrambled to grab it as Dylan pulled her up.
Behind them, the hallway cracked open-deep, jagged fissures chasing them like hungry mouths.
"Structural Collapse Imminent. Estimated time to failure: 45 seconds. Evacuation is advised."
They burst into the east corridor, lungs burning, dust choking the air. The rest of the group was already at a safe distance, shouting their names. "YVE! DYLAN! HURRY!"
Dylan threw a leg over the SilentHawk, started the engine, and reached back. "Hold on!" Yve climbed on, arms wrapping tightly around his waist, the music box wedged between them.
The bike roared forward.
Behind them, the VIRA Complex groaned a deep, thunderous sound as the earth gave way. Walls crumbled. Ceilings collapsed. The entire structure began to sink, swallowed by the very ground it was built on.
Dust exploded into the sky like a dying breath.
Dylan didn't look back. He pushed the Silenthiawk to its limit, tires skidding over loose gravel as the ground cracked and buckled behind them. Yve held on tighter, eyes stinging with tears-not just from the dust, but from everything they were leaving behind.
The SilentHawk, skidded to a stop beside the others. Lucas gave them a quick once-over, relief flashing in his eyes. "You good?"
Dylan nodded, breathless. "We're good. Let's move."
Without another word, the group mounted their vehicles trucks, bikes, and the van already idling. Engines revved in unison, a chorus of urgency and survival.
Behind them, the VIRA Complex groaned one final time.
Then it gave way. Concrete cracked and twisted, walls folded in on themselves, and the entire facility sank into the earth with a thunderous roar. A massive plume of dust and debris shot into the sky, blotting out the sun for a moment. It was gone.
Wheels tore across the dirt, engines roaring as they put distance between themselves and the grave of the VIRA Complex. From behind, faint but unmistakable, came the shrill, bone-chilling cries of the shriekers drawn to the sound of destruction like vultures to a corpse. "They're coming," Ethan muttered from his truck, eyes on the rearview mirror.
David's voice crackled over the radio. "Let them. We're not stopping."
The convay pushed forward, dust trailing behind then like ghosts of what they'd left behind. The road ahead was uncertain, but they were alive. Together.
And for now, that was enough.
The SilentHawk tore across the broken terrain, Dylan's jaw was locked tight, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His hands gripped the handlebars like he was trying to squeeze the anger out of his system.
After a long, tense silence, he finally barked, "What the hell were ya thinkin' runnin' back in there like that?!"
Yve, still clinging to him from behind, pressed her forehead against his back. "I'm sorry," she said, voice small.
He scoffed, shaking his head. "Sorry? You damn near got yourself killed-for a damn music box."
"I know," she whispered. "I just... I couldn't leave it."
Dylan let out a sharp breath through his nose, his voice rough and low. "You scared the shit outta me, Yve. Thought I was gonna lose you in there."
"I didn't mean to-" Yve guilty pleaded.
"Don't matter," he cut in, his tone somewhere between a growl and a plea. "You don't do that. Not to me. Not ever."
She was quiet for a moment, then said, "It's a gift from you. How could I ever leave it."
Dylan didn't say anything for a beat. He revved the engine again, pushing the SilentHawk harder. "Next time you pull somethin' like that," he grumbled, "I'm tyin' your reckless ass to the damn bike!"