The Heart of Chaos

The air felt heavier the deeper we ventured, as if the facility itself were holding its breath. Our footsteps echoed softly through the darkened corridors, every sound sharper in the silence. The lights overhead flickered intermittently, casting fleeting shadows along the walls.

Zeke stayed at the front, his tablet glowing faintly as he scanned for the mainframe. Apollo kept his weapon drawn, ever watchful for the infected. Lecroix was by my side, close enough that I could sense him without looking—an unspoken promise that he'd stay with me through whatever came next.

"This place is a tomb," Apollo muttered under his breath. "How long before we wake the dead?"

"Not long," Lecroix said quietly. "They already know we're here."

I glanced at Lecroix, and the steady certainty in his gaze made my pulse steady, too. He wasn't just prepared—he believed we'd make it. And somehow, that belief settled something inside me.

We passed through a broken section of the facility, littered with equipment left to rust. Medical charts and stained papers were scattered across the floor. A half-open door revealed rows of empty containment units—remnants of experiments that had long since gone wrong. Graffiti lined the walls, scrawled in frantic handwriting: "You can't save us. You can only stop them."

The weight of it all pressed down on me, harder with every step. How many people had walked these halls before us? How many had tried—and failed—to stop what was coming?

Lecroix caught me staring at the graffiti. "It's not on you," he murmured, his voice low.

I gave him a small, tired smile. "Feels like it is."

"It's not," he said again, more firmly this time. "We're in this together. Remember that."

The corridor grew tighter, forcing us to walk single file. Lecroix stayed close behind me, his hand brushing lightly against my back when I stumbled. It was such a simple gesture, but it grounded me more than anything else could have.

"You okay?" he whispered, close to my ear.

"Yeah," I whispered back, though my voice wavered slightly.

We reached a clearing in the corridor, and Lecroix motioned for us to stop. "Drink," he said, offering me a small water bottle. "You need to stay sharp."

"We only have a little left," I protested.

He gave me a small, knowing smile. "I've had worse. Take it."

Reluctantly, I took the bottle, our fingers brushing briefly as I did. The warmth of his touch lingered, leaving a feeling I couldn't quite describe. It wasn't just safety—it was something quieter. Something more.

We kept moving, the atmosphere around us shifting with each step. There was something alive in the walls—the infected were waiting, watching, tracking us. I could feel it, a prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

Then the silence broke. A low snarl echoed down the hall, followed by the faint scrape of claws on metal.

"They're close," Apollo whispered, his grip tightening on his weapon.

Zeke glanced over his shoulder, his jaw tight. "We're almost at the mainframe. Just a little farther."

Lecroix leaned in closer to me, his voice low. "Stay with me, Liberty. We'll get through this."

His words weren't just reassurance—they were a promise. And in that moment, I knew I wasn't carrying this burden alone anymore.

The infected struck without warning, their grotesque forms emerging from the shadows in eerie silence. They were faster now, their movements deliberate and terrifyingly precise.

"Move!" Lecroix shouted, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the corridor.

The chase blurred into pure instinct—the pounding of my heart, the slap of boots on metal, the snarls just inches behind us. Lecroix's grip on my hand was unyielding, keeping me grounded as we sprinted through the maze-like hallways.

We rounded a corner, bursting into an old surveillance room. Zeke slammed the door shut behind us, the heavy metal groaning as it locked into place. The infected clawed at the other side, snarling in frustration.

We stood in silence, catching our breath. Zeke leaned against the wall, his tablet cradled in one arm. His expression was dark, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

"This isn't sustainable," Zeke muttered, directing his frustration toward Lecroix. "How long do you think we can outrun them?"

"As long as we have to," Lecroix said calmly, his gaze unwavering.

"Easy for you to say," Zeke snapped. "You're not the one dragging my sister into this."

"I didn't drag her into anything," Lecroix said softly, his voice measured. "She made her choice."

Zeke opened his mouth to argue, but I stepped between them. "Enough," I said firmly. "I'm not a passenger. I know what I'm doing."

Zeke's eyes narrowed, but after a moment, he nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But don't expect me to trust him."

Lecroix gave me a small, appreciative glance, his expression calm despite the tension in the room. "You handled that well," he murmured.

"I've had practice," I muttered, giving him a tired smile.

Lecroix chuckled softly, the sound warm and low. For just a moment, it felt like the world outside didn't exist.

We reached the mainframe room not long after, the door groaning open to reveal rows of flickering monitors and ancient servers. Zeke immediately set to work, his fingers flying across the console as he bypassed the security system.

"There," he muttered. "The Echo Protocol."

The screen filled with lines of data—charts, files, and surveillance footage. It wasn't just about controlling the infection. It was about enhancing it—using my DNA as a catalyst. I wasn't just part of the solution. I was the key to it all.

Lecroix's hand rested lightly on my shoulder, a silent reminder that I wasn't facing this alone.

"We've got this," he whispered.

Just as Zeke accessed the final files, a deafening crash echoed through the room. The infected had broken through. Their twisted forms poured into the hallway, snarling and clawing toward us with terrifying speed.

Lecroix grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the console. "It's time," he said, his voice calm despite the chaos. "We either finish this—or we don't leave at all."

I looked into his eyes, and in that moment, everything felt clear. Whatever happened next, we were in it together.

"Let's go," I whispered.

We plunged into the darkened corridor, the infected just steps behind us. And as Lecroix's hand stayed firmly in mine, I knew one thing for certain:

We weren't running anymore. We were fighting.