Friend or Foe?

Adam's breath came slow and measured as he stood motionless, staring at the door. The banging had stopped. The silence stretched, thick and unnatural. His grip tightened around the metal rod in his hands, sweat dampening his palms.

Then—

A voice.

"Please, open up!"

It was a woman, trembling and desperate.

Adam hesitated. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The creatures outside looked human too—until they didn't.

"I—" the voice cracked, then softened to a pleading whisper. "Adam, it's me. It's Emily."

His heart skipped.

Emily?

His neighbor.

They weren't particularly close, but they'd exchanged small talk before—chats in the hallway, shared complaints about rent hikes, a brief conversation about coffee brands at the convenience store. She lived just two doors down.

He hadn't seen her since the lockdown started.

Another BANG against the door.

"Adam, please! They're out here! I—I don't know where else to go!"

Adam pressed his ear against the wood, trying to listen past her ragged breathing. The hallway beyond was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

No distant moans, no shuffling footsteps.

Just her.

Is she alone?

Adam's gut churned. If he let her in, he was giving up his biggest advantage—solitude. Every extra person meant more food to share, more risks to manage, more potential for something to go wrong.

But he wasn't heartless. If their positions were reversed, he'd be begging too.

He swallowed. "Are you hurt?"

A pause. Then, "N-no. Just let me in!"

Another pause. Then, more frantically, "Adam, please! They'll hear me!"

Adam exhaled through his nose. If he waited too long, he'd have a different problem—her panicked voice drawing unwanted attention.

He made his decision.

Bracing himself, he slowly unlocked the door. The metal click sounded deafening. He opened it a sliver, just enough to see.

Emily stood there, wide-eyed, her face streaked with tears and sweat. Her dark brown hair was messy, strands clinging to her forehead. Her clothes—an oversized hoodie and jeans—were stained with dirt. Her arms trembled as she hugged herself.

Behind her, the hallway stretched empty.

No monsters. No movement.

Just her.

"Get in," Adam whispered.

She didn't need to be told twice. She darted inside, brushing past him before he even had a chance to react.

Adam shut the door immediately, turning the lock with a swift click. He pressed his back against it, exhaling.

"Thank you," Emily gasped, leaning against the wall, her chest heaving.

Adam studied her. Up close, she looked worse—like she hadn't slept in days. Her hands were shaking, her lips chapped. She had that look in her eyes, the one he'd seen on survivors in movies. The look of someone who had seen things they couldn't unsee.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" Adam asked again.

Emily nodded rapidly, but her breath was still ragged. "I swear. Just… just freaked out. They were so close—one almost grabbed me."

Adam's gaze flickered to her hoodie. No blood. No scratches. If something had grabbed her, she'd fought it off before it did any real damage.

"How did you get here?" he asked.

Emily swallowed hard. "I—I was hiding in my apartment. I thought I could wait it out. But the power went out last night. My phone battery died. I was running out of food. Then, this morning, I heard screaming. A guy from the floor below—he tried to run for it. I looked outside, and…" Her voice broke.

Adam could imagine it.

"I saw them tear him apart," she whispered. "There were so many. They were slow, but he tripped. And they just…" She made a small, shaky gesture with her hands, as if that explained the horror she had witnessed.

She sucked in a breath. "I knew I had to move before they came upstairs. I grabbed my stuff and ran. I was going to knock on the other doors, but—" Her voice hitched. "I saw one. At the end of the hall. Just standing there. Like it was waiting."

A chill ran down Adam's spine.

"So I ran here instead," she finished, rubbing her arms.

Adam exhaled through his nose, trying to process everything.

She wasn't bitten. She wasn't bleeding.

So why did something feel… off?

Emily glanced around his apartment, her eyes darting to the barricaded door and window. "You—uh, you really locked this place down."

"Didn't have much of a choice," Adam muttered.

She nodded, slowly rubbing her arms. "Smart."

Adam watched her carefully. Something was nagging at him—some small detail he couldn't quite place. He replayed her words in his head.

She had run straight here. Hadn't knocked on any other doors. Hadn't tried any other neighbors.

Why?

Adam wasn't the most approachable guy.

So why him?

A shiver crawled up his spine. Something's not right.

Emily suddenly exhaled, forcing a smile. "I can't believe you actually let me in. I thought for sure you'd leave me out there."

Adam didn't smile back. He was still watching her.

Her pupils were dilated. Her fingers twitched slightly against the hem of her hoodie. Her breathing had steadied—but her body was still tense, like she was ready to spring into action.

"You okay?" Adam asked slowly.

Emily blinked, as if startled by the question. "Yeah. Just… tired."

She smiled again, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Adam clenched his jaw.

That feeling in his gut wasn't going away.

Something was wrong.

Emily was hiding something.

But what?

His fingers tightened around the metal rod in his hand. He didn't want to think like that—didn't want to start treating people like threats.

But that was the world now, wasn't it?

Trusting the wrong person could be just as dangerous as trusting the wrong thing.

And right now, Adam wasn't sure which one Emily was.

Adam watched Emily closely as she sat on the worn-out couch in his dimly lit apartment. The tension in the room was thick, her heavy breathing the only sound breaking the silence. Outside, the distant gunfire had died down, replaced by the occasional bloodcurdling scream echoing through the empty streets.

"What the hell is happening out there?" Adam finally asked, his voice quieter than intended.

Emily ran a trembling hand through her disheveled hair. Her eyes, still wide with panic, darted toward the window before settling back on Adam. "They're turning, Adam. People are changing. I saw it happen," she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

Adam swallowed hard. "Turning? You mean... like those things I saw outside?"

She nodded, her hands gripping the fabric of her hoodie. "They're not human anymore. At least, not in the way we know. I—I was at my place when I heard my neighbor screaming. I thought maybe she was being attacked, so I ran to help. But when I got there, she—" Emily's voice cracked. "She was eating her husband. Tearing him apart like an animal. And then she turned to me."

Adam clenched his fists, his stomach twisting. "How? How does it happen?"

Emily's gaze dropped to her hands. "Bites. Scratches. That's what they're saying. I ran into some people before getting here. Some of them had seen it firsthand—someone gets bitten, and a few hours later... they're gone. Their mind, their soul—everything. And then they turn into those things."

Adam felt a chill crawl down his spine. So it was like every horror movie come to life. A single bite, and you were as good as dead.

He glanced at Emily again. Her face was pale, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her forehead. Her whole body was trembling. He wasn't sure if it was from fear, exhaustion, or something else.

His eyes narrowed. "Are you okay?"

She let out a weak laugh. "Do I look okay?" She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I've been running for hours, Adam. I barely made it here. My whole body feels like it's shutting down."

Adam exhaled sharply. "You should rest."

Emily nodded, but as soon as she tried to adjust her posture, she let out a soft whimper of pain. Adam tensed.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice low.

"Nothing. Just a bruise, I think." She waved it off, but Adam wasn't convinced. His eyes drifted downward, and that's when he noticed it—blood. A small, dark stain on her jeans, just above her shin.

A sinking feeling gripped his chest. "Emily… your leg."

Emily froze. Her breathing became uneven, and she instinctively pulled her legs closer to herself. Adam's heart pounded.

"Lift your jeans," he said firmly.

She hesitated. "Adam, it's—"

"Lift. Your. Jeans."

Emily swallowed hard, her hands shaking as she slowly rolled up the fabric past her knee. Adam felt the breath leave his lungs.

There, on her shin, was a wound. Torn skin. Blood smeared around it. His stomach twisted.

Was she bitten?