Outside, shadows pooled beneath rusted fire escapes. A distant siren wailed. Inside, Lance finally let his hands drop from the wheel. Adrenaline still pulsed, but his chest rose and fell unevenly.
Dani leaned back, pocketing a crumpled pack of gum. "We're... alive," Lance said, the words fragile.
"Nicest thing anyone's said to me in hours," she replied.
Lance glanced at the milk jug—the innocuous plastic now a tether to something he didn't understand.
"What is actually in there?"
Dani's fingers clenched briefly. "It's hard to explain. It's alive, but not alive. Thinks, but not like a person. Maybe symbiotic. Changes the host in ways no one understands. Scary stuff."
"Bad?"
"Bad enough they'd rather see half the city burn than let it out."
Lance looked at Dario, sleeping peacefully. Contrast struck him hard.
Dani nodded. "And now...it's inside you."
The weight sank like stone. Not just fear of dying—but the slow unraveling of everything he thought defined him. The IT guy, the background guy, the man who could control his small, safe world...gone.
Could he survive this? Could he face it without breaking? He didn't know.
Part of him wanted to hide, pretend none of this was real. Another part—the part that surprised him—wanted to fight. Not for glory, just to keep Dario safe.
He shook his head. No manual, no precedent. Just two broken people, thrown together by chaos, trying to make sense of a world gone sideways.
And somehow...that had to be enough.
Lance's breath hitched, a ragged sound that caught in his throat like a broken whisper. For the first time since this nightmare began, the mask cracked.
He looked over at Dani, who was scanning the darkness outside the car with sharp, unblinking eyes. The weight of everything—of the gunfire, the chase, the impossible burden of a weaponized jug of milk—pressed down on him like a physical force.
He swallowed hard. The lump in his throat grew, thick and choking.
"I—I can't do this," he said finally, voice trembling in a way that felt both shameful and utterly real. "I'm sorry."
The words felt like a confession. Like admitting he was nothing more than a regular guy, a man who was utterly out of his depth.
His hands shook uncontrollably on the steering wheel, fingers curling into white-knuckled fists.
"I'm not cut out for this. I'm not... anyone special." The words spilled out faster now, raw and unfiltered. "I'm the guy who fixes your printer, who forgets to reply to texts, who hides behind their dog for protection."
His voice cracked, and for a moment, he let himself fall apart.
Dani said nothing—just watched him, steady and silent.
Then, as if sensing his vulnerability, Dario shifted beside him, nudging Lance's arm with a warm, grounding pressure.
Lance looked down at his dog, those steady, trusting eyes meeting his. For a heartbeat, the chaos outside felt miles away.
"I don't know if I can be the guy you need," Lance whispered, voice barely above the steady breathing of the night.
He pushed open the car door, the cold night air rushing in like a shock. His legs felt heavy, like moving through thick molasses, every step trembling with the weight of dread.
They moved away from the car, shadows swallowing them as the silence deepened.
Then—
Crack.
A sharp noise shattered the stillness.
Lance's heart jumped into his throat.
"Gunfire," Dani hissed, pulling him and Dario back toward the car.
Adrenaline slammed into Lance like a wave, sweeping away the fragile calm he'd just found.
His legs moved faster, his breath came sharper, panic and instinct fusing into raw survival.
Dario barked sharply, tail stiff, eyes bright with alertness.
Lance threw himself into the driver's seat, the door slamming shut behind him like a lifeline.
His hands gripped the wheel again, not with hope this time, but pure, desperate will.
"Let's get out of here," he said, voice low but steady.
The chase wasn't over.
And neither was he.
The rain from earlier hadn't stopped; it fell in steady sheets now, turning the city streets slick and shining under the harsh glare of streetlights. Water splashed beneath Lance's tires as the Corolla careened through the night, each curve an exercise in desperate control. The car groaned, the old engine fighting to keep pace with the fury behind them.
Lance's breath was shallow, fogging the edges of the windshield in rhythmic bursts. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly the knuckles blanched white, every muscle in his body taut as a wire. Dario lay curled on the backseat floor, his tail flicking lazily — oblivious or uncaring of the chaos engulfing them.
Beside him, Dani was a study in focused intensity, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror, the GPS on her phone, the street signs flashing past. Every few seconds, she barked a direction or a warning.
"Left up ahead. Then a sharp right at the light. Watch for the delivery trucks."
Lance nodded, barely trusting his voice to steady itself. "How much further?"
"Not far," Dani said, her voice barely above the rain's hiss. "The place is old — abandoned for years. Perfect for hiding."
Another round of gunfire cracked through the air, forcing Lance to swerve. A bullet tore into the passenger door with a sickening crunch. The car shuddered violently, but Lance kept it steady, teeth clenched against the sting of panic rising again.
"Damn it!" Dani hissed, ducking instinctively. "They're not giving up."
The SUV was relentless, a predator that refused to lose its prey. Every few seconds, headlights flickered in the rearview mirror, closing the gap.
Lance's mind raced. He had never imagined his life would come down to a high-speed chase with armed strangers over a milk carton. And yet here he was — barely holding it together, caught between terror and the stubborn will to survive.
He glanced at Dani. "What's in the milk again? This symbiote thing — what does it actually do?"
Dani's jaw tightened, and she looked away, momentarily silent. Then, quietly: "It changes you. Physically, mentally... It's a parasite that adapts to its host, but it's not just biology. It seems almost... aware. Intelligent in some dark, alien way."
Lance swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling like ice in his stomach.
"Like... it could take over?"
She nodded. "Not just take over. Overwrite. Some people think it's a weapon. Others think it's something worse — an entirely new life form. Something humanity isn't ready for."
The city lights flickered as they sped through a tunnel, the roar of the engine echoing. Lance caught his reflection in the rearview mirror — pale, eyes wide, sweat gleaming on his forehead.
He fought the urge to panic, telling himself: Focus. Keep control. For Dario.
The tunnel spat them out onto a quieter street lined with derelict buildings, graffiti peeling from cracked walls. The safe house was ahead — a squat brick warehouse with boarded-up windows and a heavy steel door.
"Here," Dani said, voice taut but relieved. "We're close."
Lance slowed, the Corolla sliding to a stop behind a rusted dumpster. They were out of the main road — out of immediate sight, but still vulnerable.
Dani killed the engine, and the sudden silence was almost deafening.
Lance's heart hammered so loud he was sure Dani could hear it. The rain dripped steadily from the car's roof, pooling on the pavement.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Finally, Lance broke the silence. "I don't know if I can do this," he admitted again, voice softer this time. "But I'm here. And Dario's here."
Dani's eyes softened, and she reached out to tap his arm lightly. "That's a start."
Outside, the night pressed close — full of unseen dangers and unanswered questions. Inside, two strangers braced themselves against a world that was no longer familiar.
And somewhere beneath it all, the symbiote waited, silent and hungry.