Kira waved in a desperate trio of raggedy high schoolers. 

 “Kira!” Charlise shrieked, jumping to her feet. She was glistening in sweat, her espresso-hued baby hairs sticking to her face. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Lyric quickly put her hand on Charlise’s shoulder again, holding her in place. “Relax. It’s just a few kids. They do look like they need help.”

Charlise dropped back down into the chair, shaking so hard, Lyric could feel the vibrations from where she was standing. She glanced at the teenagers consisting of two girls and a boy. They were disheveled and dirty, the boy more so than anyone else. In fact, upon further inspection, his physical condition was far worse than Lyric had initially thought. He had collapsed onto the tiled floor of the lobby facefirst. Lyric might have thought him dead if it wasn’t for the occasional twitches spasming through his body, but overall, he was very, very still. She wondered if it had to do with the giant fleshy mess on his forearm. It almost looked as if he’d gotten severely slashed.

Or even gnawed on.

“Kira,” Lyric called calmly, fishing out the carabiner in her pocket that contained all keys related to the store, “lock the front door, please. I don’t think it’s safe right now.”

“What if other injured people come by needing a safe space?” Kira protested, her sympathy for others overriding her instincts of survival. Charlise was spiraling as the tension escalated, while Kira’s bleeding heart had put them in a precarious position. Lyric wanted nothing more than to slap Charlise back to reality, and grab Kira by the poof of her curly top-bun and shake some sense into her. 

“If anyone needs help and they happen to make their way here, we’ll open the door for them on a case-by-case basis. Just leave the keys in the lock, so they’re right there,” Lyric instructed. Though clearly reluctant, the young girl obeyed, leaving the collection of keys to dangle from the door. With their safety somewhat secured, Lyric began to creep closer to their visitors, narrowing her gaze at the boy. 

Something felt extremely off and her hand instinctively glided down to the hidden weapon on her belt. It wasn’t as if she intended to use it, especially not on some random kids, who were probably scared out of their minds, but touching it to ensure it was there kept her grounded in situations like this. Fortunately, she hadn’t had to use it yet. 

“Everyone okay?” Lyric asked, warily circling the trio. “What’s going on out there?” 

One of the two girls, the one with dark hair, looked up, locking eyes with the barista as she struggled to catch the oxygen that eluded her.

“W-we”—she choked down a couple breaths—“dipped off-campus for lunch and, like, when we were waiting in line at the burger spot, a b-bunch of people in lab coats and scrubs and shit came rushing into the place, completely crashing out! They looked like they came from MedPark or something. They were so fast, snatching and”—the girl gasped again—“and biting people, ripping them apart like some monsters. There was this dude… He bled out in front of me! He unalived right in front of me. I couldn’t even help him. I couldn’t…”

A suffocating tension began to slowly coat the air. It felt heavy and palpable like a weighted blanket of despair as everyone listened intently to her harrowing tale.

“Make it make sense, girl!” Kira declared, eyeing the dark-haired teenager suspiciously. “What kind of story is that? Sounds like some stupid zombie movie!”

Charlise also asked, “Did those people come in with weapons and just start attacking everyone? What made you run here and not to the sheriff’s office?” Her pale skin had dried, but there was a pinkish tint to her cheeks, as if she was burning up from within. 

The dark-haired girl's eyes glossed over as she recounted every detail. “Those people… they were just using their mouths and hands. No weapons—nothing. One of them even attacked Eli, but we managed to knock her off. Eventually.” She looked to the boy upon mentioning him, who was breathing deeply in and slowly out. “I hope he’s okay.”

“What if it’s some kind of terrorist attack? What if a bunch of psychos are running around, setting fires and wreaking havoc?” Charlise demanded, her voice growing shriller with each consecutive query. 

“On God,” the girl growled, frustration spilling over at Charlise’s blatant disbelief, “the one that attacked Elijah was, like, a little kid! Like, for real, a little girl. I don’t even think she hit double-digits in age yet! Whatever she was, she was insanely strong, but only legit half my size. Still, we could hardly get her off Eli with us two! Then, we just ran. It was crazy, people crashing out, so we just ran until we saw this girl waving us in.”

“A little girl? Stop bullshitting!” Charlise raged, a mix of angry and terrified tears brimming on her dark bottom lashes. They teetered on the edge, threatening to spill over the next time she blinked. “A child did that? You couldn’t get her off him with the two of you? I’ve dealt with eight-year-old kids and they’re as light as a feather.”

“Holy shit, lady! Are you listening? Weight wasn’t the problem!” the high school girl shot back. “No motherfucking cap, she was strong as hell! Like she wasn’t human. And it wasn’t just her! Right, Hanna?”

At the first girl’s behest, the second one joined in, supporting her friend’s nonsensical claims with details of her own. “Yeah. Plus, that guy Sarahi thought died got back up.” She was tying her milk chocolate locks into a messy bun with a hair tie she’d been wearing on her wrist as she spoke. 

“Okay… Maybe he wasn’t actually dead like you thought,” Lyric added, trying to keep her voice steady. “What made you think he was dead to begin with?”

The girls exchanged a look of uncertainty. 

“Well…” Hanna, the calmer one, paused as she searched for the right words. “We just knew, okay? You had to see it with your own eyes to understand.”

Charlise blew out a loud, frustrated sigh, scratching her head furiously and messing up the hair she had pulled into a sleek ponytail. Her frazzled appearance now matched her behavior. “This is ridiculous. These kids are wasting our time when—”

“If you think it’s cap, what’s stopping you from going outside to find out?” Sarahi hollered. Lyric’s attention quickly darted toward the entrance, a subconscious reaction to the girl’s elevated volume. After hearing the teenagers’ tale, she couldn’t shake the thoughts of zombies that were now consuming her conscience. 

Charlise swallowed the rest of her words, though the hostility on her contorted face remained. She didn’t say anything further as she smoothed her hair. 

“Okay.” Lyric racked her brain, trying to regain control over the situation. Emotions were running rampant, and if she couldn’t restore just an iota of control soon, things would only further spiral. In any case, they needed to figure out what they were going to do next. “We need to decide what we’re going to do now. Are we going to remain passive, sit here and just wait for help to come, or should we take a more proactive approach by going back out there and finding help ourselves? I can go first—”

“Ughhh…” A deep, long groan resonated from the lump of person on the ground. “I don’t… feel… s-so good…” 

Elijah struggled to his knees, but couldn’t seem to sit up all the way, as if made of jelly. He hunched forward as his head hung limply against his chest at an unnatural angle. He’d barely managed to prop himself up, his light sandy hair concealing his eyes as the longer strands fell over his forehead. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Kira asked apprehensively, daring cautious steps toward them from her position at the edge of their orbit.

Sarahi knelt beside the boy. “You good, Eli? What’s wrong?”

He’d been so quiet and the situation so tense, she had nearly forgotten Elijah existed. A pang of guilt struck something within as Lyric considered how he’d been suffering all this time. Would he need to go to the hospital? Recalling the smoke coming from MedPark earlier, did they even have a hospital anymore? 

Elijah didn’t answer, remaining a motionless blob locked in place. Sarahi prodded him apprehensively, seeking some kind of response. “Hey, Eli—”

The boy lurched forward suddenly, painfully plowing into the lobby tile face-first. Lyric winced, imagining the pain that must have caused, and stepping forward to help. Again, Elijah jerked upward, muscles tweaking and twitching as Sarahi cried out, concerned by the contorted gesticulations of a body that had lost control. A pungent odor struck Lyric’s nose as she noticed a dark stain originating from the front of his jeans, spreading down his thigh as the stench of urine quickly saturated the air around them. 

Elijah, however, didn’t seem to care as he sat back on his knees. His shoulders slumped, and still, he did not raise his head, letting it hang and roll like the bones had completely dissolved. The sight was unsettling and the smell of incontinence was horrific. He’s really not okay, Lyric thought. What do I do?

“... d-don’t… f-feel… good… I… d-don’t…” Eli stuttered, his voice a quiet moan. 

“We need to get him to the hospital or something,” Lyric suggested. She didn’t want to mention that there might not be a hospital anymore and crush the last threads of hope they were clinging to. After all, regardless of the circumstances, they couldn’t continue standing around, doing nothing, with the boy in critical condition.

“Hey, Eli?” Sarahi touched his shoulder as she called to him again. “I’m going to help you stand. We’re going to get you to the hospital. Just hang on.” 

A thick knot of dread formed in Lyric’s stomach as she observed their exchange. Something—a soft, distant voice in the back of her head—told her to step back. She was starting to feel crazy, thinking this kid was acting very undead-like, and she wanted to laugh at herself for allowing such ominous thoughts to creep in of all times. He was just severely injured and needed help. 

“He really doesn’t look good,” Charlise noted, getting to her feet. “Is he going to be all right?”

“Yes,” Hanna remarked, tossing a look of annoyance in Charlise’s direction. “He’s just hur–”

Sarahi screamed. It was a sudden, sharp sound that made everyone jump. Confused, Lyric stood blinking, every muscle and fiber of her being turning into granite. She blinked again, the eruption of chaos slowly—oh, so slowly—smothering the fragile calm they’d barely established. Despite what was happening just mere feet in front of her, her mind couldn’t seem to catch up with her eyes. 

Lyric watched in muted horror as Eli overtook his friend, forcing her to the ground. He mounted her swiftly, his nails gripping her shoulders as he immediately buried his face in the exposed curve of her neck. Sarahi shrieked again, thrashing beneath the lunatic. Her fight instincts had kicked in, and she’d gone from a caring friend to beating on him with closed fists. Hanna and Kira were shouting things that didn’t seem to make sense in the mess, though neither made any move to intervene; Charlise had stumbled backward in shock, somehow tripping over a chair and landing painfully on her backside, where she remained in stunned silence.

Elijah threw his head back, a splash of glistening crimson painting the off-white tiled floor. As red glistened in her eyes, Lyric moved, at last. In a fiery explosion of adrenaline that had been hiding beneath the mounting anxiety, she tried to use her momentum to knock Elijah off. Lyric had never run full-speed into a wall before; the opportunity had never presented itself in all her life, but she imagined doing so would hurt very, very badly. Crashing into Elijah, who didn’t budge an inch, was incredibly painful and disorienting in a way she thought running into a wall would feel like. He was smaller in build, not much larger than her, but then again, she’d never done anything like this before. Was it typically this difficult to knock somebody over?

Lyric crashed to the ground, Sarahi’s hand inadvertently slapping her in the face at one point as she repeatedly struck Elijah with no effect. Elijah’s jaw tightened as his teeth clenched blood and flesh, a deep, wet growl gurgling in the depths of his throat. His eyeballs were extremely bloodshot, and his light blue irises, the sliver that was still visible despite his eyes having mostly rolled up into his eyelids, had dulled with a bleak, grayish tint.

“I… d-don’t—eel… goo—” he groaned, words broken, as morsels of Sarahi fell from his lips. He was moving and kind of articulating, but there was a lack of substance, as if only his essence had perished and left behind an empty shell. 

It was now nothing more than an insatiable entity cursed with an eternal hunger. Lyric couldn’t speak, let alone catch her breath. It felt like the tightness in her chest was restricting her lungs as her limbs grew numb, and she was left bewildered by the messy mass rasping the same words over and over as thick blood-tinged saliva oozed from its mouth. 

“Oh, God!” Charlise wailed, tears carving lines in the powdery makeup on her cheeks. Elijah’s head snapped in her direction. He clumsily scuttled her way, nearly tripping over Sarahi, whom he’d suddenly lost interest in. “N-no! Get away from me!”

The terror in Charlise’s voice was enough to break her trance, and Lyric pushed herself off the ground, barely on her feet before she was chasing after Elijah. She managed to reach Charlise almost the same time as Elijah; she took her by the hand, pulling her.

“Watch out!” the barista shouted, trying to yank her out of the way. Charlise's eyes widened as she felt Lyric's grip on her hand, the warmth and urgency contrasting sharply with the cold dread that enveloped her. But instead of gratitude, a surge of self-preserving instinct flooded her.

In a split second, Charlise jerked free from Lyric's grasp and shoved the barista forward with all her might.