The Catalyst's Burden

The air was thick with tension as we sprinted through the narrow tunnels, Lecroix leading the way with a calm urgency that seemed almost impossible under the circumstances. The infected's growls echoed behind us, their monstrous footsteps closing in with each passing second. My breath came in ragged gasps, my chest tight from the exertion, but the weight of Lecroix's words hung heavier than the air around us.

A catalyst.

I could still feel his eyes on me as he had said it, as if he was revealing something about me I hadn't even begun to understand myself. My mother had tried to stop them, and now... I was caught in the middle of it all.

"Move!" Lecroix's voice snapped through the tension, and we burst into a larger chamber—a half-collapsed room with beams of rusted steel hanging precariously from the ceiling. The infected were relentless, snarling and clawing at the shadows just behind us. Their numbers seemed to grow with every corner we turned.

Zeke glanced back, his face taut with fear and suspicion. "We're not going to outrun them forever," he muttered under his breath, the weight of his words hitting all of us.

Lecroix didn't slow his pace, his expression unreadable as he pushed ahead. "There's a safehouse nearby. It'll hold."

My legs were burning, every muscle screaming for rest, but there was no stopping now. The infected weren't just fast—they were evolving. More than just predators. It was as though they were being driven by something—something primal and vicious that wasn't there before.

We rounded a corner, and suddenly, the ground gave way beneath Apollo. He yelped as he stumbled into a deep pit, his hands clawing at the sides for a hold.

"Got you!" I reached out, gripping his arm before he could fall further. His eyes met mine, a flicker of gratitude passing between us as I hauled him back up.

Zeke's breath hissed through clenched teeth as he glanced at Lecroix, the tension between them thickening by the second. "How much further?"

"Just ahead," Lecroix replied, his gaze steady, unfazed by the panic.

A sharp growl echoed from the corridor behind us, closer now. Too close. The infected were nearly upon us, their gnashing teeth and bloodshot eyes flashing in the dim light. My pulse thundered in my ears, but as I turned to run again, Lecroix stepped forward, raising his arm with eerie precision.

He moved faster than I thought possible. In one fluid motion, Lecroix grabbed a steel pipe from the ground and swung it with calculated force. The first infected lunged at us, a grotesque blur of sinew and claws, but Lecroix's pipe connected with a sickening crack. The creature's skull caved in with a wet thud, and it crumpled to the ground.

I stopped mid-step, my breath catching in my throat. He didn't move like anyone I'd ever seen before. His strength... it wasn't natural. His movements were too smooth, too efficient, like a predator who had done this countless times before.

"Keep moving," he ordered, his voice cold, before turning and leading us deeper into the tunnels.

Zeke shot me a wary glance, clearly noticing what I had. "Something's not right about him," he muttered, but there was no time for questions.

We followed Lecroix, the sounds of the infected still clawing at our heels. My mind was racing. Every step felt heavier, weighed down not just by the danger but by the flood of revelations Lecroix had brought with him. My mother had been part of the experiment, and now, I was the one left to carry the burden. But what did that mean? Was I just another pawn in their twisted game, or was there something more to what Lecroix was saying?

Finally, we reached a metal door set into the tunnel wall. Lecroix swung it open with a grunt, motioning for us to enter. "Get in."

We piled into the small, dimly lit room. The air was stale, but the walls were thick enough to muffle the sounds of the infected. For now, we were safe. But the silence that fell over us was far from comforting.

The room was bare, with old crates scattered across the floor and rusted pipes snaking along the ceiling. Lecroix stood by the door, his back to us, watching the hallway as if expecting something more to come.

Zeke turned toward him, his voice sharp with accusation. "What exactly are you? You move like them," he spat, his hands curling into fists. "You're not telling us everything."

Lecroix's gaze shifted slowly, his eyes locking onto Zeke's with a cold intensity. "You're right," he said simply, his voice calm. "I'm not like you."

I felt my stomach churn, a knot of unease forming in my chest. "What do you mean?"

Lecroix's expression didn't change. "I was part of the project too, Liberty. I'm not infected, but... I was altered. Just like you."

My breath caught in my throat. "Altered?"

He nodded. "The infection inside you—it's dormant, waiting for the right conditions to activate. But there were others—test subjects who didn't have the genetic resistance your mother and you do. I was one of those. The infection changed me, but I survived."

Apollo stepped forward, his posture protective. "And now you want Liberty to do what? Become like you?"

Lecroix's gaze softened as it met mine, his voice lowering. "I want her to control it. She can stop the infection from spreading—if she accepts what she is."

A cold dread settled over me. "What if I can't control it?"

Lecroix's silence spoke volumes, and my chest tightened. I was caught between the truth and the fear that came with it. I was a catalyst, but what did that mean for me? For everyone around me?

Apollo's voice broke through the tension. "You don't have to do this alone, Liberty. We'll find another way."

I looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes tugging at something deep inside me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that no matter what I did, I was already caught in the middle of something far bigger than any of us.

Lecroix watched me closely, his voice soft but commanding. "You're stronger than you know. This infection isn't just a curse—it's a weapon. One you can wield."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. There was something about Lecroix—something in the way he spoke to me—that made me want to believe him. But Zeke's mistrust, Apollo's concern... they were anchors keeping me from sinking into whatever strange pull Lecroix seemed to have over me.

A loud bang suddenly echoed through the tunnel, shaking the walls and snapping us out of the moment. The infected were back, and they were coming fast.

Zeke cursed under his breath. "We need a plan. Now."

Lecroix turned to the door, his calm demeanor returning. "We'll head for the underground facility. It's where Phase Two is being accelerated. If we can get there, we might still have a chance to stop it."

"Or it could be a trap," Zeke muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Lecroix didn't respond. Instead, he looked back at me. "The choice is yours, Liberty. We can stop Phase Two—or we can run. But if we run, we lose."

I felt the weight of his words settle over me, the burden of being something more than I had ever wanted to be. My mother had tried to stop this, and now it was my turn. But the thought of embracing what I was... what I could become... terrified me.

The room seemed to close in around me, the infected's growls growing louder as they neared the safehouse. My hands shook, the weight of the decision crushing me.

Apollo's hand brushed mine, grounding me, pulling me back from the edge. "Whatever you choose, we're with you."

I met his gaze, the warmth in his eyes cutting through the fear, and for a moment, I felt like I wasn't completely alone in this. But Lecroix's words still echoed in my mind.

I was the catalyst. And now, I had to decide if I would use that power... or run from it.