Into the Ruins

The street outside my building was no longer recognizable. What had once been a bustling corner of the city was now a smoldering ruin, shrouded in thick smoke and screams. I could feel the heat from the fires raging across blocks, burning buildings and cars reduced to skeletal wreckage. It was chaos, and no one was in control—not anymore.

I took a deep breath, pulling the hood of my jacket up and slinging my bag over my shoulder. There was no room for hesitation now. I had to reach the office. Lylia was waiting, and we needed to figure out what was really happening. There was more to this than just a mutated disease. I could feel it in my bones.

The ground shook slightly beneath me as I stepped outside, the distant rumble of collapsing buildings a constant reminder that the city was falling apart. Smoke billowed from the crumbling structures, thick and choking, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. But I pushed forward, blending into the crowd of panicked people who had taken to the streets in search of safety—or escape.

Above the chaos, the roar of military trucks filled the air, their engines snarling like beasts. Soldiers were everywhere, rifles in hand, barking orders and forcing people into lines. Their faces were hidden behind gas masks, their eyes scanning the crowds for any sign of infection. They didn't care who you were—if you showed even the slightest hint of illness, you were dragged away.

I kept my head low, sticking to the edges of the crowd. I had to keep moving. The deeper into the city I went, the worse it would get.

As I slipped past a checkpoint, I saw it—one of the infected, or at least what I thought was one. A man, his clothes tattered, face streaked with dirt and blood. He was hunched over, his movements jerky and unnatural, like something was wrong with his body, like something had broken inside him. But it wasn't just his body that sent a chill down my spine—it was his eyes. They were wide and empty, as if he wasn't seeing the world around him at all.

He lunged at a nearby soldier, a scream tearing from his throat, but the soldier was quicker. One shot—just one—and the man fell, collapsing in a heap on the ground, his limbs still twitching.

The soldier didn't even flinch. He turned back to the crowd and kept scanning, as if killing had become routine.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move. I couldn't stop. Not now.

As I made my way deeper into the city, the scene grew worse. Buildings were gutted by fire, their windows shattered and walls crumbling. Smoke curled up into the sky, blotting out what little sunlight remained, casting everything in an eerie orange glow. Military trucks lay overturned, their engines still sputtering, while soldiers fought to maintain control. But it was clear they were losing. Every few blocks, I saw more evidence of it—more infected, more bodies, more chaos.

The infected... I hadn't seen enough of them to know what they really were, but I'd heard rumors. People whispered about their violent behavior, about how the disease had done more than just eat away at their bodies—it had twisted their minds, made them savage. But no one had been able to confirm anything. The government had kept everything under wraps, only allowing snippets of information to reach the public. That was part of the problem.

That, and the fact that it was getting worse.

I pressed forward, ducking into alleyways when the streets became too crowded or too dangerous. Every corner I turned felt like a gamble, like I might run headfirst into something I couldn't handle. The infected were faster than I had imagined, quicker than any illness should have made them. I could hear them—shuffling, grunting, their erratic movements echoing off the walls of the narrow streets. I caught glimpses of them through the haze—twisted figures with torn clothes and pale, patchy skin. But I never saw enough to get the full picture, and maybe that was for the best.

I wasn't ready to know.

At one point, as I darted down a side street, a shadow passed in front of me, quick and silent. My heart seized, and I froze, my breath caught in my throat. I didn't dare move. I could hear it now—shuffling, low and uneven, like something dragging its feet behind me. Slowly, I turned my head, just enough to see.

There, half-hidden in the smoke, was one of them.

Its body was hunched, arms hanging limp at its sides, but there was something wrong with the way it moved. Its head jerked, like it couldn't quite control its muscles. It staggered forward, eyes locked on nothing, its lips pulled back in a snarl, teeth bared. My stomach twisted as I watched it drag itself closer, its breathing shallow and ragged.

I held my breath, inching backward, praying it wouldn't see me. And then—without warning—it lunged. Not at me, but at a pile of debris just a few feet away. I stumbled back, my heart hammering in my chest as I bolted down the alley, not stopping until the sounds of the infected were far behind me.

I couldn't stop trembling. It had been so close.

I pressed on, my legs aching with each step, but I had to keep going. The city was a graveyard now, with every street leading me deeper into the ruins. The military checkpoints were thinning out, and the infected were growing bolder, moving in packs. I kept to the shadows, doing everything I could to avoid drawing attention.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I reached the deep city.

The office building loomed ahead, dark and silent, its windows cracked and covered in grime. The air was thick with smoke, and the streets were eerily quiet, save for the occasional distant shout or the low rumble of collapsing structures. There were no survivors in sight—only the scattered remains of vehicles and the broken bodies of the infected who hadn't made it.

I pushed through the front doors, the glass shattering as I entered. Inside, the place was in shambles—desks overturned, papers scattered everywhere. It looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry. My breath echoed in the stillness as I moved deeper into the building, my footsteps soft against the cracked tiles.

The office was just ahead. I quickened my pace, my pulse racing. I had to find Lylia.

When I reached the office, the door was already ajar. I slipped inside, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Lylia?"

She was sitting at one of the desks, her face pale and drawn, her hands trembling as she clutched a file in front of her. The screen of her laptop glowed dimly beside her, a progress bar ticking slowly across the screen.

"I found something," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "A file. From the boss's office. I think it's everything we've been looking for."

I stepped closer, my eyes scanning the file in her hands. It was thick, filled with documents I could barely make out in the dim light.

"I'm downloading it now," she said, her voice shaking. "But..."

"But what?" I asked, my throat dry.

"The military," she said, her eyes flicking toward the window. "They're coming. They'll be here any minute."

My blood ran cold.

"Oh, shoot." I rushed to the laptop, watching as the progress bar crawled forward, painfully slow. 60%. 70%. 75%.

We didn't have time.

"We need to go," I said, my voice tight with panic. "Now."

Lylia nodded, but her eyes stayed fixed on the screen. 80%. That was all we were going to get.

I grabbed the USB, stuffing it into my bag as the distant rumble of military trucks grew louder.

"We're out of time," I hissed, pulling her away from the desk.

The doors to the building creaked as the trucks pulled up outside. My heart raced as we slipped out the back, the sound of boots hitting the pavement echoing behind us.

We didn't stop running until the military was far behind us.