The air at Blissville Hospital was thick with chaos, a relentless storm of fear and anguish that pulsed through every corner of the building and erupted into the night outside.
Inside, the sealed hallways were a living nightmare, filled with screams that tore through the air, raw and jagged, echoing off sterile walls as if the building itself was crying out. Nurses and doctors who could still stand gripped their throats, coughing up blood that stained their scrubs in dark, wet patches, their faces drained of color, glistening with sweat under flickering fluorescent lights.
"It burns! God, it burns!" one nurse shouted, her voice hoarse and breaking, collapsing to her knees near a patient's bed, her hand still clutching a chart that slipped to the floor.
