The Return to Progress

"Elias, do you read me?" My voice sounded steadier than I felt. My hands trembled against the edge of the table, and I tightened my grip to keep them from shaking further. The static-filled comm unit stared back at me, silent and unyielding, its red light blinking like a taunting metronome.

I had sent him into the research facility knowing that he is alone. I thought it was the only way to retrieve the data, of what was left of our work, to stop this nightmare from spreading. But now, hours had passed since his last message.

"There's... something here," Elias had said, his voice a strained whisper over the crackling line. "I'm losing you. If you can hear me... I can't hear your feed. Something's interfering with our comms."

Then nothing. Just static.

I pressed the heel of my palm to my forehead, as if I could push back the flood of worry threatening to drown me. Was he alive? Was he dead? Had I sent him to his doom? The weight of my decisions bore down on me like a lead mantle, each second of silence twisting the knife of guilt deeper.

The makeshift shelter I'd carved out for myself offered little solace. The room was a repurposed storage container, dimly lit by a single flickering lantern. It smelled of damp metal and stale air. My cot sat in the corner, unmade and uninviting, while a pile of papers and data pads were scattered across the small desk.

Ethan was inside, sprawled across the cot. He turned his head toward me as I pushed the door open. His shirt clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and his dark hair was tousled from restless sleep.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly from exhaustion. The dim lantern light in the makeshift shelter flickered, throwing restless shadows across his face and the cold, metallic walls. "How are things holding up?"

I paused in the doorway, gripping the edge as if it were the only thing keeping me upright. The air inside was damp, heavy with the smell of sweat and desperation. Letting the door click softly shut behind me, I leaned against it, the weight of the day pressing on me.

"We lost people today." My voice cracked, brittle and uneven, and I cleared my throat. "When we picked you up from the port—two of ours didn't make it." I hesitated, each word dragging like a stone. "And now Elias..."

Ethan's brows furrowed, his posture shifting as he swung his legs off the cot to face me. "Elias?"

I nodded, stepping further into the room. The floor creaked beneath my boots. "I made contact with him. He was still inside the SolGen facility, but I... I sent him to the research wing," I said, barely able to keep my voice steady. "He made it in. Barely."

Ethan sat up, his expression sharpening. "Do you think he—"

"I don't know." My words came out harsher than I intended. I ran a hand through my hair, pacing the limited space. "I shouldn't have sent him alone. It's my fault if he—"

"Stop." Ethan's voice was firm, cutting through my spiraling thoughts. He rose, closing the distance between us. His hand brushed my arm, then lingered, his touch grounding me. "You're doing everything you can, Marisol. More than anyone else could."

I shook my head, biting back the retort that wanted to escape. The truth was, I didn't feel like I was doing enough. "Ethan, if he doesn't make it back..." My voice cracked, and I had to look away.

He cupped my chin gently, turning my face toward him. His eyes searched mine, soft but unrelenting. "Don't do this to yourself," he said, his voice a quiet command. "You can't carry all of this alone."

The closeness between us was electric, charged with unspoken tension. His thumb brushed against my cheek, a small, intimate gesture that sent warmth spreading through the cold knot in my chest.

"You need to rest," he said softly, his lips barely inches from mine.

"I can't," I whispered, but even as I said it, the exhaustion weighed heavier.

"You can," he countered, his hand sliding down to the small of my back. He guided me toward the cot, his touch insistent yet gentle.

When we sank onto the cot together, the lines between comfort and something more blurred. His arms wrapped around me, and I let myself lean into him, the steady beat of his heart grounding me in the chaos.

"Ethan..." I started, but his lips found mine, silencing the protest before it could take shape. The kiss was slow, deliberate—a mixture of desperation and longing, as though we both needed to feel alive, to cling to something real in the face of all this madness.

His hands explored my back, my shoulders, each touch drawing me further away from the guilt and fear that had consumed me. I responded in kind, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw, the curve of his neck.

For a moment, the outside world ceased to exist. There was no outbreak, no Sunods, no looming apocalypse. Just us, clinging to each other in the dim light of a crumbling world.

When it was over, we lay tangled together, the silence between us heavy but no longer oppressive. His fingers idly traced patterns on my arm as I stared at the ceiling, my mind drifting back to Elias.

"I shouldn't have let this happen," I murmured, breaking the quiet.

Ethan kissed my temple, his voice soft but firm. "You're human, Marisol. So is Elias. We'll find a way through this, but you have to believe in him—and in yourself."

I closed my eyes, letting his words settle over me like a fragile balm. For now, it was enough to keep the despair at bay. Tomorrow, I would face the world again. But tonight, I allowed myself this fleeting reprieve.

Dawn had already broken, but the world outside the safehouse felt like it was stuck in the twilight of an endless nightmare. I had managed to get some rest—barely—and now I was awake, the weight of Elias' lost comms pressing heavily on my chest. The glow of the command center's flickering screens was the only light, casting ghostly shadows over the survivors huddled in the corners. The air inside was thick, stifling, and suffocating, saturated with the heavy scent of sweat, dirt, and hopelessness.

I stood over a table in the center of the room, my fingers grazing the edges of a battered map of the city. My eyes scanned it, tracking the lines as they crisscrossed over landmarks, past neighborhoods, and down to a single, damning location: SolGen Biotech. My fingers hovered over it for a moment, the ghost of a past I couldn't escape. The tightness in my chest was like a vice—SolGen was where this nightmare started, and it was the place where it would end, for better or worse.

I wasn't sure if I could fix it, but I had to try. The survivors might be depending on me, but I couldn't bring myself to offer them hope I didn't have.

Ethan's voice broke through the silence, pulling me back to the present. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his face unreadable but his eyes sharp, watching me. "You've been staring at that map for hours," he said, his voice low and cutting through the stagnant air like a knife. "What's the plan?"

I swallowed hard, glancing at the others in the room. The survivors, some of whom I had only known for a short time, were watching me in silence, their eyes filled with exhaustion, fear, and desperation. They knew nothing of what was happening inside the walls of SolGen. They just wanted to survive.

I took a deep breath, straightening my back, forcing myself to meet Ethan's gaze. "I'm going to SolGen."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, the disbelief in his expression as palpable as the tension in the room. "You?"

"Yes," I said firmly, the word like a declaration to myself more than to anyone else. "Me. And no one else."

A low murmur rippled through the room as the survivors turned to glance our way. Some exchanged uncertain looks, the fear in their eyes growing. They didn't understand why I was doing this, but I couldn't explain it in a way that would make them feel safe. I wasn't doing this for them. I was doing this for Elias, for the chance to stop the virus, for a glimmer of hope I could barely cling to myself.

Ethan pushed off the wall, his boots making a soft scrape on the floor as he took a step closer to me. His eyes narrowed, his voice lowering, a mix of concern and frustration. "Are you serious? You want to walk into the heart of where this all started? That place is crawling with Sunods. It's suicide, Marisol."

I met his gaze, unflinching, the determination in my eyes matching his intensity. "If we don't go, it's all over anyway. Elias is still alive, Ethan. He's inside the facility, and he's one of our best engineers. He's our friend, and I won't leave him to die in there."

Ethan's jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a hard line. "But you don't have to do it alone. He's my friend too... or, at least, he was."

I nodded slowly, my voice a little softer but still resolute. "Elias knows the facility inside and out. He's the one who can get us the data we need—the data from the research facility that can help us understand how Salus mutated. If we find him and get that data, we might still have a chance to stop this."

Ethan sighed deeply, a hand running through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands as if trying to physically pull the tension from his body. "I'm not going to just sit here while you risk your life." His voice softened, just a little. "You're right. We're the only ones who understand Salus. We're the only ones who can fix this. If we can re-synthesize Salus with the data, we might have a shot at reversing the outbreak."

I could hear the desperation in his voice now, but it was tempered with a sense of resolve. He wasn't about to let me go alone, even if he didn't fully believe in the plan. I couldn't blame him. Neither of us knew what awaited us inside SolGen.

"Fine," I said, my lips curling into a wry smile, though it didn't reach my eyes. "You can come with me."

He didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips tugged upward into a tight grin. "You know, I'm beginning to think you only ever agree to my plans when you're already half-way through with them."

I let out a tired chuckle, but it quickly faded as the gravity of what we were about to do settled back in. I stepped back toward the map, the weight of the decision pressing down on me. "Let's get ready. We don't have much time."

Ethan moved to the table beside me, his eyes scanning the map as I traced the route we would need to take. SolGen was a long way off, and getting there would be a gamble at best. But I wasn't about to back down now. Elias might be in danger.

"I'm leaving the safehouse in your hands," I said, turning to Maria, my second-in-command. Her sharp, no-nonsense demeanor had been a lifeline since the outbreak, and I trusted her with the lives of everyone here.

Maria's brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You're leaving us?" Her voice wasn't harsh, but there was an edge of concern beneath the steely calm she always maintained.

I met her gaze, trying to convey my certainty, though doubt lingered like a shadow in the back of my mind. "Just for a while," I replied. "Keep everyone safe."

She studied me for a long moment, her eyes unreadable. "And what if you don't come back?"

The question hung in the air, heavier than the weight of the words. I took a breath, my throat tight. "We will. Elias is still out there. We're going in to get him, and I'm not leaving without him."

Maria nodded slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly, but her expression remained firm. "Then, you better make sure you come back." She stepped closer, her voice lowering. "We're relying on you, Marisol."

"I know," I said quietly, my voice a little more fragile than I intended. I took a step toward the door, feeling the weight of the decision pressing on me. "Look after everyone. I'll be back."

Maria gave me a sharp, almost imperceptible nod, then her lips curled into a brief, tight smile. "Good luck."

I hesitated for a heartbeat, then Ethan and I left the safehouse, knowing that the clock was ticking, and the world outside was still unraveling.