Chapter 10

The night was cold and dark. Jennifer Trump crouched behind an abandoned car on a quiet Bordeaux street, her metal pole resting on the ground. Chloe sat next to her, holding the first baby tight, its soft breaths steady now. Marie leaned against the car's side, cradling her newborn, Kenna, who whimpered faintly. The Bordeaux-Saint-Jean station loomed behind them, its glass doors shaking as infected pounded from inside. The soldiers were gone-sacrificed to give them this chance. Smoke rose from the wrecked train, mixing with the screams and gunshots fading into the distance. They'd made it out, but they weren't safe.

Jennifer peeked over the car. The street was empty-cars sat still, some with doors open, lights off. Streetlamps flickered, casting long shadows. The city felt dead, but she knew it wasn't. The infected were out there, spreading fast. She clutched her backpack, the BioGenesis box heavy inside. She had to get it somewhere safe, tell the world. But first, they had to live.

"We can't stay here," Jennifer whispered. "They'll break out."

Chloe nodded, her purple hair sticking to her sweaty face. "Where do we go?"

Jennifer scanned the street. A sign pointed left-"City Center." Right led to "River Garonne." Ahead was a dark alley, narrow and quiet. "Alley," she said. "It's hidden. We move slow."

Marie shifted, wincing. "I'm not fast," she said. "Legs hurt."

"We'll help," Jennifer said. "Lean on me."

Marie smiled, weak. "Okay."

Jennifer stood, helping Marie up. Chloe followed, holding the first baby close. They moved toward the alley, steps soft on the pavement. The station's glass doors cracked louder behind them-a sharp snap. Jennifer glanced back. The infected spilled out, tumbling over each other, growling into the night. "Faster," she hissed.

The alley was tight-brick walls on both sides, trash cans tipped over. It smelled like wet stone and rot. Jennifer led, her pole ready. Chloe stayed close, Marie limping between them. The babies stayed quiet, as if they knew to hide. The growls from the station grew fainter, but new sounds came-shouts, crashes, somewhere in the city. Bordeaux was falling apart.

They reached the alley's end-a small square with a fountain, dry and cracked. Three streets branched off: one wide with shops, one narrow with houses, one dark with trees. Jennifer stopped, listening. Footsteps echoed from the wide street-fast, uneven. "Hide," she whispered.

They ducked behind the fountain. Jennifer peeked out. Five infected ran past-white eyes, bloody mouths. They didn't see the group, chasing something down the wide street. "Clear," she said. "We go narrow."

Chloe nodded. "Houses might be safe."

They moved again, into the narrow street. Old houses lined it-tall, with shutters closed tight. Lights were off, doors locked. Jennifer tried one-rattled the handle. Nothing. "Empty," she said.

"Or hiding," Marie said. "People might be inside."

"Don't care," Jennifer said. "We need rest."

They kept going, finding a house with a broken window. Jennifer climbed in first, careful with the glass. It was a kitchen-dark, messy, plates on the table. "Come on," she called. Chloe helped Marie through, babies safe in their arms.

Inside, they locked the door and pushed a table against it. The house was quiet-living room, stairs, no sound. Jennifer checked upstairs-two bedrooms, empty. "We're alone," she said, coming back down.

Chloe sat on a couch, rocking the first baby. "Can we stay?"

"For a bit," Jennifer said. "Catch our breath."

Marie sank into a chair, holding Kenna. "I need water," she said.

Jennifer found a sink, turned it on. Water came-cold, clean. She filled a glass and brought it to Marie. "Here."

"Thanks," Marie said, drinking fast. She gave some to Kenna, dipping her finger in and letting the baby suck.

Chloe looked at Jennifer. "What now?"

Jennifer sat, her backpack on the floor. "We wait. Then move. Find help."

"Help's gone," Chloe said. "Station's lost."

"Not all of it," Jennifer said. "Soldiers knew about BioGenesis. They'll tell someone."

Marie frowned. "You think?"

"Yeah," Jennifer said. "I've got the box. Papers. They'll listen."

A crash came from outside-loud, close. They froze. Jennifer grabbed her pole and peeked through a shutter. Across the street, an infected smashed a car window, clawing inside. It didn't see them. "Stay quiet," she whispered.

The infected moved on, growling down the street. Jennifer sat back. "Too close."

Chloe hugged the baby. "They're everywhere."

"We'll find a way," Jennifer said. "We always do."

Marie smiled, tired. "You're strong, Jennifer."

"You too," Jennifer said. "Both of you."

A soft thud came from upstairs. Jennifer grabbed her pole. "What was that?"

"Don't know," Chloe whispered. "You checked?"

"Yeah," Jennifer said. "Empty."

Marie held Kenna tight. "Maybe a cat?"

Jennifer stood, slow. "I'll look."

She climbed the stairs, flashlight in one hand, pole in the other. The hall was dark-two doors, both closed now. She'd left them open. Her heart beat fast. She pushed the first door-bedroom, empty. Bed neat, no sound. She tried the second-another bedroom. A shadow moved.

"Who's there?" she hissed.

A man stepped out-old, thin, holding a broom. "Don't hit!" he said, hands up. "I live here!"

Jennifer lowered her pole. "Why hide?"

"Monsters," he said. "Heard them. Stayed quiet."

"We're not monsters," Jennifer said. "We're running."

He nodded. "Saw the train. Bad?"

"Yeah," Jennifer said. "Infected. Spreading."

The man's face fell. "My wife-she was at the station."

Jennifer's stomach sank. "Sorry."

He shrugged, sad. "Come down. You're safe here."

Jennifer led him downstairs. Chloe and Marie looked up, surprised. "Who's he?" Chloe asked.

"Owner," Jennifer said. "He's okay."

"I'm Peter," the man said. "This is my house."

Marie smiled. "I'm Marie. This is Kenna."

Chloe nodded. "Chloe. And this little guy."

Peter sat, tired. "What happened?"

Jennifer told him-BioGenesis, the virus, the train. Peter listened, eyes wide. "They did this?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jennifer said. "I've got proof."

Peter rubbed his face. "City's gone. Heard sirens, then nothing."

"Not gone," Jennifer said. "Not yet. We'll find help."

A loud bang hit the front door. They jumped. Jennifer grabbed her pole. "They're here," she whispered.

Peter stood. "Back door. Out there."

The banging grew-hard, fast. The table shook. "Go!" Jennifer yelled. Peter led them to the kitchen, opening a small door to a yard. They ran out-grass, a fence, a street beyond. The front door cracked inside. Infected roared.

"Fence!" Jennifer said. She helped Chloe over, then Marie with Kenna. Peter climbed slow, shaky. Jennifer went last. The back door broke as she landed. Infected spilled into the yard, chasing.

"Run!" Jennifer shouted. They sprinted down the street-dark, empty, trees lining it. The infected were fast, growling behind. Jennifer swung her pole, slowing one. "Keep going!"

Chloe tripped, the baby crying. Jennifer pulled her up. "Move!" Marie ran ahead, Kenna bouncing. Peter lagged, breathing hard. "I can't!" he yelled.

"Try!" Jennifer said. She grabbed his arm, pulling. An infected reached him, clawing his leg. He screamed, falling.

"No!" Jennifer yelled. She swung her pole, hitting it. Peter crawled, blood on the ground. "Go!" he shouted. "I'm done!"

Jennifer froze. The infected grabbed him again, biting. Peter yelled, then went quiet. More came, swarming him. "Jennifer!" Chloe called. "Come on!"

Jennifer ran, tears in her eyes. Peter was gone-another lost. They turned a corner, losing the infected in the dark. A big building loomed ahead-lights on, soldiers outside. "There!" Jennifer said.

They ran to it-a police station, gates shut. Soldiers saw them, guns up. "Stop!" one yelled.

Jennifer raised her hands. "We're not sick! We've got proof-BioGenesis!"

The soldier frowned. "What?"

She pulled the box from her bag. "This! They started it!"

The gate opened slow. Soldiers grabbed them, checking for bites. "Clean," one said. They led them inside-a bright room, desks, radios crackling. A woman in uniform took the box. "Explain," she said.

Jennifer told her-Paris, the train, the virus. Chloe and Marie nodded, holding the babies. The woman listened, face hard. "If this is true," she said, "it's big."

"It is," Jennifer said. "Tell everyone."

The woman nodded. "Quarantine first. Then we check."

Soldiers took them to a room-white walls, beds, food. "Rest," one said. "You're safe."

Jennifer sat, her pole on the floor. Chloe rocked the first baby. Marie fed Kenna a bottle from a soldier. "We did it," Chloe said.

"Yeah," Jennifer said. "We're alive."

Marie smiled. "Thanks to you."

"And Ken," Jennifer said. "Monsieur Dupont. Peter. Everyone."

Outside, sirens wailed. Gunshots echoed. The infected were still out there, spreading. But inside, they had a moment. Jennifer pulled the papers from her bag, spreading them out. "I'll write it," she said. "The story. For the world."

Chloe nodded. "Good."

The room was warm, safe. The babies slept. Jennifer started writing-March 11, 2025, the day it began. She'd lost so much, but she had this. The truth. They'd survived. For now.

END