The Facility of Progress

The dawn outside felt wrong—too still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. The silence was broken only by the distant, guttural wails of the Sunods—horrific, twisted echoes that chilled the bones. The air was thick with decay, heavy with the stench of death and something worse, something alive in the way the wind smelled. In the distance, the crackle of fires added to the unnerving ambiance, their orange glow staining the sky like an open wound. The horizon seemed to burn, but the cold reality of it made my skin crawl. Every step we took on the cracked concrete felt amplified, each sound lingering too long, too heavy in the suffocating quiet.

Marisol and I moved quickly, but we kept low, weaving between overturned cars, their metal frames twisted and scorched from the chaos of the previous night. The hushed thumps of our boots against the street barely registered against the symphony of destruction around us. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat reminding me that danger wasn't just around the corner—it was already here.

The facility loomed ahead as we neared the outskirts. Its towering presence seemed to swallow the light, casting an oppressive shadow over everything. In the pale moonlight, the once-pristine building looked like a corpse, its skin peeling away. The front entrance had been reduced to nothing more than jagged remnants—a shattered carcass, doors ripped from their frames. Shards of glass glittered like broken teeth scattered across the floor. Blood smeared the walls in thick streaks, dried into grotesque patterns that twisted into sickening shapes—some animalistic, others human, all disturbing. It felt as if the building itself was watching us.

Marisol stopped, her body tensing like a wire pulled too tight. She turned to me, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the area. "This is where it gets dangerous," she murmured, her voice low, yet controlled. But there was something in her eyes, something darker—a flicker of fear, or maybe just the quiet acceptance of the inevitable. "Stay close. No heroics."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as dust. The crowbar I gripped was cold and unfamiliar in my hand, its weight barely comforting. "I'm right behind you," I said, though I wasn't sure if I was trying to reassure her—or myself.

She nodded once, sharply, then slipped forward with the silence of a predator. Her movements were fluid, practiced. I followed in her wake, feeling like an amateur in comparison. The world around us was too quiet now—unnaturally still, like the calm before a storm. The distant cries of the Sunods seemed to fade, swallowed up by the crumbling ruins of the facility. Every broken window, every shattered door, looked like an invitation to the nightmare we were already too deep into.

We reached the barricaded entrance, the once-secure doors now just a memory. Wooden planks had been hastily nailed over the gaping hole where they once stood. But it was clear that something—or someone—had forced their way through. Blood stained the floor in a dark, sticky trail, the scent clinging to the air like a foul invitation. It soaked into the concrete, spreading out like a sickening welcome mat. The trail led inside, into the heart of the nightmare.

I could hear something. Faint rustling. Movement. But it wasn't human. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as Marisol crouched next to the wreckage, her eyes scanning the shadows with predator-like precision.

"Whatever's inside..." she whispered, her breath a soft hiss, "It's not safe."

I leaned in, my pulse spiking as the chill of the metal crowbar sank deeper into my palms. "Are you ready for this?" I asked, my voice barely louder than the air between us.

Her eyes locked with mine—dark, unwavering. "No," she said quietly. "But we don't have a choice."

She pushed forward, slipping through the gap with practiced ease. I followed closely behind, my every step feeling too loud, too reckless. The hallway inside was dimly lit by flickering emergency lights, casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to stretch and twist around us like living things. The stench of blood, rot, and decay hit me like a wall. It was suffocating, the kind of smell that clung to the back of your throat and made your stomach turn. Every inch of the floor, every broken window, every overturned piece of furniture whispered of things long gone—of people who had been swallowed by whatever nightmare had consumed this place.

Then I heard it—a low, guttural growl, followed by the scraping of claws against concrete.

Marisol froze, her hand darting to her weapon. I tightened my grip on the crowbar, my heart pounding. Something was watching us. I felt it in the air, a thick, crawling tension that had nothing to do with the ruin around us. The facility felt alive, like it was holding its breath.

"Stay low," Marisol hissed. She was already moving again, but there was a sharpness to her movements now, a deadly awareness. I followed, trying to match her pace, my every step an echo in the silence that seemed too loud.

The growl grew louder—closer.

Then, a soft thump from behind us. Too soft. Too deliberate. My skin prickled, every instinct screaming that we weren't alone.

Marisol froze again, her eyes flashing to mine. She didn't need to say a word. I could feel it too.

I barely had time to register the movement. A shadow shifted, too quick, too unnatural. Something moved in the darkness—a blur, a shape, something wrong. It lunged, too fast for me to react.

"Move!" Marisol shouted, and before I could fully process what was happening, she was already darting down the hallway. I followed blindly, adrenaline taking over as my feet pounded against the floor.

And then we saw him—Elias, stumbling out of the Research Facility, looking like he'd seen hell itself. His clothes were torn, his face gaunt, eyes wide with fear.

"Elias!" Marisol's voice broke the tension, urgent and relieved all at once.

"Marisol?" He blinked, eyes wide in shock.

"Run! There's a lot of them!" I shouted, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

And just as the words left my mouth, another evolved Sunod stepped out of the darkness. Its body was twisted and lean, unnatural in its proportions. Its eyes glowed faintly, sickly yellow, as it studied us with an unsettling intelligence. It tilted its head, like it was deciding whether we were prey or threat.

"They hunt in packs?" Elias asked, his voice hollow, disbelief creeping into his tone.

"Fantastic," I muttered, my grip on the crowbar tightening until my knuckles ached.

More of them appeared—emerging from the shadows like predators on the prowl. Their snarls were low, guttural, blending with the sickening sound of claws scraping against the concrete floor.

"Inside, now!" Marisol shouted, her voice sharp and commanding.

We didn't need to be told twice. We bolted for the nearest room, slamming the heavy door behind us. The creatures began pounding against it with terrifying force, their wails echoing down the hallway like the cry of something ancient, something hungry.

"What are these things, these are not the Sunods we know of?" I demanded, my voice shaking, but I didn't care anymore. My hands trembled on the crowbar.

"The virus," Elias muttered, his voice distant, hollow. "It's evolving—fast. These evolved sunods... they're smarter. Faster. And they work together."

Marisol began pacing, her fists clenched, her face set in grim determination. "We need a way out of here."

"There's a maintenance tunnel," Elias said, his voice edged with tension as his eyes flicked toward the door, his gaze darting nervously at the rhythmic pounding from the other side. "But it's a gamble."

I chuckled bitterly, the sound harsh and hollow in the tense air. "What isn't a gamble these days?" The words came out sharper than I intended, but there was a sting of truth to them that I couldn't deny.

Marisol's eyes locked onto mine, her jaw tight with resolve, the weight of the moment hanging heavy between us. "We go. Together." Her words were like a command, a promise that we wouldn't falter—not now, not when everything depended on this.

The door shuddered violently under the pounding force of whatever horrors were on the other side. It felt as if the very building was groaning, straining to keep its fragile walls intact. But deep down, I knew there was no turning back. Whatever was waiting for us outside—or beneath—had no choice but to face us head-on.

Suddenly, Elias spoke again, his voice quieter, but no less intense. "By the way, Marisol... I already got the data."

Marisol's eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable as she processed his words. "Lead us to the nearest safe area. We'll figure out our next move there," she ordered, her tone steady, unwavering.

We had the data. But in that moment, the pounding on the door was the only thing that truly mattered.