The television flickered to life in the living room as Ethan carried his laundry basket back from the laundry room, still rubbing at the lingering headache. Logan was already slouched on the couch, scrolling through his phone with the kind of half-attentive expression only an ex-Marine could pull off on a lazy morning.
"Mom, what's on the news?" Ethan asked, dropping the laundry onto the sofa.
Linda adjusted the volume, a crease of worry forming on her forehead. "Something about a virus… claims it's just a few isolated cases in some major cities. Nothing to worry about."
The anchor's voice was calm, too calm. The images on the screen told a different story: chaotic hospital rooms, patients vomiting, security personnel restraining frantic crowds.
"…the Centers for Disease Control confirms that this strain is unlike any seen before. Symptoms include severe fever, disorientation, and in some cases, extreme aggression. Officials urge citizens to remain indoors and report any unusual behavior…"
Ethan's stomach twisted. "Aggression?" he asked.
"Probably just the fever," Logan said dismissively, though his eyes were sharp, scanning the footage. Something about the way the patients moved caught his attention. Too jerky. Too fast. Not like any sickness he had ever seen.
Marcus's voice came from behind them, through the open window of the street outside. "Yo! Cole! You guys seeing this?" He waved his phone, showing a clip from the same news broadcast. The video was shaky, filmed on a cell phone in a downtown area. People were screaming, running in all directions. One man—pale, eyes glazed over—attacked a police officer, ripping the gun away with unnatural strength.
Ethan swallowed hard. "That… that's not normal."
Maya appeared in the doorway, a baseball bat slung over her shoulder. "Normal stopped existing when the guy just snapped the cop's arm like a twig," she muttered.
Tom, their stepdad, turned sharply from the kitchen. "Now, hold on," he said, voice firm. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Could be a hoax, a viral video getting out of hand. You boys don't need to panic over a few cities on the other side of the country."
Logan stood, jaw tight. "It doesn't feel like a hoax. Look at the footage. Look at the way they move… there's something wrong here. Something dangerous."
Ethan glanced at his brother, then back at the screen. The images showed more chaos, people running over one another, streets abandoned except for those screaming or thrashing on the ground.
"Mom… should we… should we be worried?" Ethan asked, the first real fear creeping into his voice.
Linda sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Worry won't help right now. Just… stay aware, okay? Just like you always tell your friends—watch out for each other."
Ethan nodded, but his gut twisted. Logan's hand brushed the strap of the backpack he always kept by the door—his "just in case" pack he'd jokingly prepared after hearing too many war stories from his time in the Marines. Something about his posture, tense and ready, made Ethan realize this wasn't going to be just another story.
Outside, the quiet streets of their small town seemed almost… too quiet. The air hummed with unease, like the calm before a storm.
And somewhere, far away, the virus was already moving.
The world they had known—the safe streets, summer nights, careless laughter—was about to end.