Story 1213: Stranger with a Syringe

EXT. DERELICT GAS STATION – OUTSKIRTS – NIGHT

The wind howled across cracked asphalt and shattered glass. A rusted sign dangled above the abandoned gas station. Lena, Briggs, and the Girl huddled behind a burned-out truck, watching for movement. The safe zone was gone. The girl hadn’t spoken since the escape.

LENA (whispering):

“We need food. Water. And shelter before sunrise.”

Briggs checked his sidearm—two bullets left. The girl pointed toward the gas station’s mini-mart. Something flickered inside.

INT. MINI-MART – MOMENTS LATER

The shelves were ransacked. Cans long expired. A rat darted past a pile of bones. Lena crept forward when she heard something—a metallic clink.

Briggs raised his weapon.

VOICE (calm, male):

“Easy. I’m not infected. Not yet.”

From behind the counter rose a man in a tattered lab coat, mid-40s, with haunted eyes and a syringe clutched in his trembling hand. He wore a name tag: Dr. Hale.

DR. HALE:

“You’ve got the girl, don’t you?”