The bus wheezed like an old man ready to die as it rolled into the outskirts of Mashuma. Heat ghosts danced above the worn asphalt, blurring the distant rows of shops and the skeletal outline of the mountains beyond. Elijah Musk sat in the back row, his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the dusty window. Sweat rolled down his temples but he did not move to wipe it away.
He had been gone for eight months, yet the town looked nearly the same—quiet, tired, stubbornly alive. But Elijah had changed. Anyone who looked closely would see it in his eyes: a hard shine buried beneath exhaustion, something pulled too tight and ready to snap.
As the bus hissed to a stop at the station, passengers rose in a flurry of chatter, bags scraping, children whining, women shouting instructions. Elijah remained still. His fingers drummed once on his thigh—an old combat tick—and stopped. The hum of adrenaline simmered under his skin. Even homecoming felt like a mission now.
He eventually stood, shouldered his backpack, and stepped off the bus.
A wave of heat slapped him across the face, followed by the familiar smell of diesel, dust, and roasting maize coming from a vendor's iron grill. People moved about their day with heavy purpose. No one noticed him. No one recognized him.
He preferred it that way.
A dark blue Toyota Corolla pulled up near the station's shade. The passenger door flew open before the car even stopped.
Liana stepped out.
She looked smaller than he remembered, or maybe that was guilt reshaping his perception. Her hair was longer, tied into a neat ponytail. She wore a faded pink blouse and denim jeans, the simplicity of her outfit making her appear even younger than her twenty-three years. But her eyes—hazel and usually soft—held something new inside them.
Distance.
Caution.
Fear?
"Elijah," she breathed, stepping forward.
He forced a smile. "Hey."
They met halfway. She hugged him tightly, burying her face against his shoulder. Elijah closed his eyes. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the warmth of her body, her heartbeat against his ribs, the faint cherry blossom scent of her shampoo. A memory stabbed deep—her laughing under the backyard sprinkler last summer, bright and carefree.
But the moment broke quickly.
Liana pulled back first.
"You look… different," she said quietly, studying his face.
He shrugged. "Long contract. Long days."
She didn't look convinced.
"Is it over?" she asked.
He hesitated. "For now."
Her jaw tightened in a way he almost didn't notice.
For now.
The wrong answer.
They walked to the car in silence, and Elijah felt her energy shifting, as though she was searching for the right time to ask something heavy. He braced himself—lying had become second nature, but lying to Liana was a different kind of war.
Once inside the car, she gripped the steering wheel.
"How was Harare?" she asked.
"Elijah exhaled softly. "Busy. Loud. Same old."
Her eyes flickered sideways. "Did you… meet anyone new?"
He froze. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you were gone eight months," she said lightly, but the tremor beneath the words gave her away. "People change. Things happen."
"Nothing happened," Elijah lied smoothly. "Work, room, work again. No time for anything else."
She nodded, but her lips pressed together—absorbing the lie, feeling its shape, but unable to prove it yet.
She shifted into gear and drove.
The town passed by the windows in slow, nostalgic fragments. The barber shop Elijah grew up visiting. The vegetable stalls where old women shouted prices with theatrical flair. The tall jacaranda trees lining the avenue, purple blossoms scattered like confetti on the ground.
Life moved on without him.
As they turned onto Liana's street, Elijah tensed unexpectedly. A police vehicle was parked on the corner. Yellow tape fluttered in the breeze around a small house. Officers whispered in clusters. A stretcher lay on the lawn, covered with a white sheet.
Liana slowed the car.
"Oh God," she whispered. "Another one."
"Another what?" Elijah asked sharply.
She swallowed. "Another… incident."
His stomach knotted. "Define incident."
"You haven't heard?" She looked at him, genuinely surprised. "It's been everywhere. The news, WhatsApp chats, everywhere. People losing it. Hurting each other. Or worse."
He leaned forward, scanning the crime scene with disciplined, hunter-like precision.
"What happened here?"
"Couple lived there," Liana said, lowering her voice. "People heard shouting around midnight. The husband… he—" She faltered. "He killed his wife. Brutally. And he doesn't remember doing it."
Elijah's pulse jumped.
"What do you mean he doesn't remember?"
"He was found in the corner of the room shaking, covered in blood, saying, 'I don't know… I don't know… I loved her, I don't know why.'"
Elijah's mouth dried. A cold coil twisted in his gut.
No.
It couldn't be.
The program… the containment… the distance…
It shouldn't be here.
Liana drove on. He forced his breathing to stay even.
"Has this happened a lot?" he asked carefully.
"This week? Three cases." She nodded toward the taped house. "This is the fourth."
He stared straight ahead, jaw clenching.
Impossible. Unless…
Unless something had slipped out of containment.
Unless Z77 was no longer confined to government facilities.
He turned away from the window. His reflection stared back—sharpened features, eyes haunted by something he refused to name.
The bond won't hold unless he breaks.
The old line from the research logs flashed in his memory.
"Elijah?" Liana's voice broke his trance. "Are you okay?"
He forced a slow inhale. "Yeah. Just tired."
She didn't believe him—but she let it go.
They reached her home—a small tan house with a jasmine plant climbing the fence and a plastic watering can abandoned near the steps. Liana unlocked the door, her movements familiar and comforting.
"Come in. I made something light. You probably haven't eaten."
He followed her inside. The smell of baked bread wrapped around him. A soft hum of a fan filled the quiet. It felt like peace. A peace he didn't deserve.
As he set his bag down, Liana stood in the hallway, arms folded.
"Sit down," she said suddenly. "We need to talk."
He stiffened. "About what?"
She motioned toward the couch. "Please. Just sit."
He sat.
She remained standing, twisting her fingers nervously.
"When you left," she began, "you didn't explain anything. You didn't call often. You stopped texting. I tried to understand, but… something felt wrong. Like you were shutting me out."
"Li—"
"Let me finish," she said softly.
He shut his mouth.
"I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just… trying to understand if we're still okay." Her voice cracked slightly. "If you're still here with me. Or if you checked out a long time ago."
He swallowed.
"Liana, I'm here. I came back, didn't I?"
"You came back physically," she whispered. "But are you here?"
He looked away.
After a long silence, she exhaled shakily. "I missed you. I just want honesty. That's all."
Elijah nodded slowly, but inside, his mind was splitting.
Honesty would destroy everything.
Honesty would reveal the project. The lies. The affair. The danger now creeping into their town.
Honesty would kill her.
He leaned forward. "Things got complicated, that's all. I didn't want to worry you."
Her expression softened just enough for him to breathe again.
"Okay," she said quietly.
Then the knock came.
Sharp. Urgent.
Three quick raps.
Liana frowned. "I'm not expecting anyone."
She opened the door.
Becca Sibanda stood on the porch.
Her dark curls were tied back messily, her scrubs stained with something that looked suspiciously like dried blood. Sweat glistened on her forehead. She looked shaken—but her eyes lit up when she saw Elijah.
"Elijah? You're back?" she breathed.
Liana's face drained of color.
Elijah stood slowly. "Becca? What happened?"
Becca stepped inside without waiting for permission. Her eyes darted around as if expecting something to follow her.
"There was… a case at the hospital," she said breathlessly. "A bad one. Something is wrong with people, Elijah. They're snapping. Like their emotions turn into violence out of nowhere. I don't know how else to describe it."
Elijah's heartbeat thundered in his chest.
"How many cases?" he asked.
"Five today alone," she replied. "One man tried to strangle his own brother over a twenty-dollar misunderstanding. A mother nearly stabbed her teenage daughter. And Elijah… they had this look in their eyes." She shivered violently. "As if something inside them wasn't human anymore."
Liana stared at her, pale and trembling. "Becca… why are you telling him this?"
Becca hesitated before answering. Her eyes flicked to Elijah, lingering far too long.
"Because he understands security. Emergency behavior. He… knows things."
Liana's gaze sharpened. "Knows things? What things?"
Elijah cut in quickly. "I've handled similar crises before. She's just reaching out."
But Liana's eyes narrowed, suspicion forming like a storm.
Becca stepped closer. "Elijah, please. Something bad is happening. Something unnatural. And I think it's spreading."
Her voice cracked with fear.
"I've never seen people behave like this."
Elijah inhaled, slow and tense.
He had.
Not people—
test subjects.
He met Becca's eyes. She looked at him with desperate trust. A trust that made Liana's stomach twist.
Before he could speak, a scream pierced the air outside—raw and frantic.
Liana gasped. Becca flinched. Elijah shot to the window.
A woman was running in the street, barefoot, hair wild, shrieking as she fled from a man stumbling after her with jerky, unnatural movements. His face was contorted with something unrecognizable—rage and grief tangled into one twisted expression.
Elijah's blood iced.
He knew that look.
He had seen it behind reinforced glass, inside government labs, in men whose emotional triggers were pushed beyond human limits.
"Oh God," he whispered.
Becca's eyes widened. "You know something. Don't you?"
Liana turned toward him slowly, betrayal blooming in her gaze like a spreading bruise.
"Elijah," she whispered. "What did you do?"
He couldn't answer.
Not because he didn't want to—
—but because he didn't know how to tell the woman he loved that the terror now swallowing their town…
…was born from his own emotional blueprint.
He clenched his fists at his sides, pulse roaring in his ears.
"Elijah?" Liana repeated, voice trembling. "What did you bring back with you?" He stared at her. And in her eyes, he saw the first fracture forming.