Ding.

The doors slid open with a hollow chime.

Basement – B2.

No lights.

Only darkness.

Masaru reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and turned on the flashlight.

A narrow beam cut through the shadows—dust swirling in the air like ash.

The concrete walls were cracked. Pipes overhead groaned softly. A faint metallic scent lingered—blood, rust… maybe both.

He stepped out cautiously, the beam of light shaking slightly in his hand.

“…What the hell happened down here?”

His murmured voice echoed—barely loud enough for even him to hear.

Then—
movement.

Just ahead, past a stack of broken containers and fallen concrete slabs near the new construction zone of the basement… shadows moving.

Masaru froze.

He lifted the flashlight slowly, breath held.

Shapes… figures… dragging limbs through the dark.

He waited. Let the light catch.

The beam steadied… and landed on them.

Four—maybe five.

Human once. No longer.

Clothes saturated in blood stuck to ripped flesh. One arm was pulled all the way back, the bone piercing the flesh. Another walked ahead, a portion of his intestines hanging down and slapping wetly on his leg as he walked.

A woman in scrubs stared blankly with half her face missing, jaw hanging by threads of muscle.
Their bodies twitched, unstable.
But their eyes—milky, hungry—locked on him.

Masaru took a single step back.

The sound echoed.

The figures started moving forward.

“…Shit.”

He turned on his heel—and ran
— for a while.

His legs pushed forward, but the old ache surged almost instantly, stabbing through his right knee like fire.
The doctor’s words echoed in his skull:
“Don’t push it too hard… or you might not walk for a while.”

Too late now.

He stumbled forward, gripping the wall to steady himself, breath ragged. The flashlight bobbed wildly in his hand, shadows jerking and stretching across the concrete.

Behind him—the wet, uneven footsteps grew louder.

Closer.

“Dammit,” he hissed, limping down the hall. “Can’t outrun ‘em…”

Then he saw it.

An old emergency stairwell sign, cracked and barely hanging above a steel door marked:
B1 ACCESS – EMERGENCY EXIT

He slammed the door shut behind him and leaned against it, wheezing.

“Just one floor… just one floor up…”

He forced his legs to move, dragging himself up the steps.

finally— B1.

He burst through the door into another hallway— no figures in sight.

“Made it,” he panted, limping forward. “Just… stay away from B2…”

He didn’t look back.
He just moved.

~No lights. Only darkness.

But suddenly came the sound.

Scrapes. Moans. Footsteps.

Zombies—three of them—emerged from behind a stairwell door, arms twitching, heads tilting unnaturally.

“Shit—!”

Masaru turned and bolted. His legs ached from the earlier fall, but he pushed forward juggling over one of the limbs.

sprinting across the damp concrete toward a rusted exit sign near a shuttered gate.

He slammed his shoulder into the emergency bar—nothing happened. He couldn’t open it.

Locked.

He looked up—a ventilation ladder bolted to the wall nearby. Above it: a crumbling service tunnel marked
“Under Construction – Exit 300m.”

Service Tunnel → Construction Site

He burst out into the area an active construction zone, half-blocked with barricades and scattered materials.

He looked around wildly.

Then—a sound.

Tires screeching.

Masaru turned toward the sound where he found the headlight —Just in time to watch a car go off track and slam through an improvised roadblock.

BAM!

He thought it was a barricade, but it wasn’t—it was a person. The car knocked the person down.

Masaru froze. “What the hell—?”

The car came to a jerking halt. Inside, he saw her.

"Sakura"

His eyes widened. She looked younger than he remembered—a student, shaking behind the wheel, her hands still clenched, knuckles white. Kaito sat beside her, jaw slack, eyes locked on the crumpled body outside.

Masaru didn’t think—he ran.

“Sakura!” he shouted, waving as he approached the vehicle.

She flinched when she saw him, face pale with fear.

“Masaru-sensei… I-I didn’t mean to—he just—he came out of nowhere—!”

“I know, I know.” He reached the driver’s side and crouched slightly, hands raised to calm her down. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

Her lip trembled. “I think I killed him…”

“Don’t look. Don’t focus on that right now.” His voice was firm but gentle, eyes darting to the unmoving figure on the gravel. “There’s something worse going on.”

Kaito leaned forward, his voice tight. “What are you talking about?”

Masaru’s head snapped around. Behind him, faint moans echoed—low, inhuman.

“There are people in the hospital acting like animals. They’re attacking staff. Biting. Tearing into them.”

Sakura stared blankly at him, shaking her head. “What? Are you serious? That’s insane…”

“I wouldn’t be running like hell if I wasn’t,” Masaru said, scanning around. “I came out of the basement—construction tunnel exit. They’re coming, and we need to move. Now.”

“But what about him?” Sakura whispered, pointing toward the bleeding man on the ground.

Masaru clenched his teeth. “We don’t have time. He’s either already gone—or he’ll be one of them in minutes.”

Sakura looked like she was about to cry. Kaito grabbed her shoulder.

“Sakura… we need to listen.”

Masaru looked back toward the tunnel—shadows moving closer.

“I’ll drive,” he said firmly. “Slide over. Both of you.”

Sakura hesitated… her hands trembling.

“Wait—please,” she whispered. “Can we at least check if he’s alive? We can’t just leave him like that.”

Masaru sighed sharply, glancing back toward the darkened tunnel. “We don’t have time for this…”

Before he could finish, Kaito had already stepped out of the car and crouched beside the body.

“I’ll check his pulse!” Kaito declared with sudden confidence, pressing two fingers awkwardly on the man’s forearm, and then to the palm.

Masaru blinked. “What are you doing?”

Kaito didn’t look up."Checking for the pulse?" replied doubtedly.

“…That’s not where the pulse is, genius,” Masaru muttered, hurrying over. He knelt beside them and placed his fingers gently against the man’s carotid artery, and waited. A few seconds passed.

Just before Masaru could feel, Sakura had seen it—subtle, almost nothing. The man's fingers had curled slightly, like a reflex, then gone still again. She blinked, thinking it might’ve been her eyes playing tricks, but no… she was sure of it. A faint, fleeting twitch. No one else had seen it.

“No pulse,” he said bluntly.

“But he moved!” Sakura insisted. “I saw it—he twitched!”

Masaru glanced at her. “That’s just nerves firing. Muscles do that after trauma. Doesn’t mean he’s alive.”

Sakura’s eyes glistened. “Still… we can’t leave him like this. Please.”

She paused for a moment, staring at the man's bloodied face—her hands trembling.

“Why don’t we take him to the hospital?”

Masaru exhaled sharply, stepping back and dragging a hand down his face. “Sakura—listen. That hospital is gone. Overrun. You know the screaming we heard earlier? That wasn’t normal people. They were people dying or undead.”

Sakura shook her head, her eyes darting. “No, no—I didn’t see anything. We came in through the back road. It was just construction… just noise.”

“You didn’t see it because you weren’t there. I was.” Masaru’s tone was heavy, grounded in reality. “There were bodies. Blood. Something’s happening. People are turning—into something else.”

“But this is Japan, Not States!” she snapped. “This doesn’t happen here!”

“I know it doesn’t!” he snapped back. “But it is!”

She turned away, gripping the car door, clearly overwhelmed.

Kaito looked back and forth between them. “Okay… maybe let’s all calm down and find a solution. Before more of those things show up.”

Masaru let out a long breath, forcing himself to cool down. Then, gently, he said, “Alright. You want to help him? Fine. But we’re not going back to that hospital. There’s another one about fifteen minutes from here—small place, local. If there’s still a chance, it’ll be there.”

Sakura turned back, a little calmer now. “You promise?”

Masaru nodded. “Yeah. I promise. But we do it my way. Quick, clean, and no stopping.”

She gave a small, broken nod.

Masaru knelt beside the injured man again. Checked his eyes—still no signs of infection. “Clear.”

Masaru tried to lift him up, but he was too heavy. Straining, Masaru looked around and spotted Kaito.

"Hey, you!" he called out, pointing toward Kaito.

Kaito turned to look at him, confused.

Without hesitating, Masaru continued, "You're with me. Let's lift him."

"Me?"

"Yes, you are!" 

Kaito made a sign and moves to help him out.

Kaito grumbled, already struggling with the man’s weight. “Why do I always get the heavy end?”

Masaru muttered, “Because I’m old, and you’re weird.”

“I’m not weird,” Kaito shot back.

Masaru raised an eyebrow. “You carry zip ties around for emergencies.”

Kaito paused. “…I just bought them today!”

“For what?”

“Man… I just brought them to tie up my computer cables. They were totally falling all over my cabin.”

Masaru smirked as they loaded the man into the back seat. He slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at Sakura. “You alright?”

She didn’t answer right away, but eventually gave a nod.

“Good,” he said, gripping the wheel. “Let’s get moving before this whole damn street turns up.”

The automobile rushed through the tiny streets before merging onto the bigger road. Masaru maintained his focus on the road ahead, weaving carefully between slow-moving vehicles. But up ahead, red brake lights blazed.

“Woooo....” he muttered, easing the car to a stop.

A minor traffic jam had formed on the highway, stretching in both directions. Several cars were stopped, with horns honking and irritated drivers poking their heads out. At the front, a pair of traffic officers in yellow vests were attempting to control traffic, directing vehicles around a stuck delivery truck.

Masaru tapped the steering wheel, impatiently. "What the hell.... man!"

Kaito leaned forward. “Should we wait, or…?” paused for a while, Masaru looking at him from the rear-view mirror, "I mean we have a patent within, So...?" Kaito spoke out in a low voice.

They were waiting for the green signal.

Then—thump.

A dull noise from the back seat.

Masaru turned slightly. “What was that?”

THUMP. THUMP.

The injured man, motionless until now, jerked violently. His body trembled, spasmed—arms convulsing, head lurching side to side like something was rattling inside his skull.

"What the hell—?!" Sakura yelped.
Watching what was happening, Kaito trembles and slams to open the car door.

"KAITO, WAIT—!"

But Kaito had already jumped out, scrambling away from the car in pure panic.

The sudden movement caught the attention of nearby drivers and the officers, their heads turning toward them.

Inside the car, the man slammed his forehead against the window.

BAM. BAM.

The cracks formed like a web on the glass as he began to violently bash his head, blood smearing across the inside.

Sakura gasped, recoiling in horror. “No—no, no, what’s happening?!”

Masaru grabbed her wrist. “Out. Now!”

They both stumbled out of the vehicle, backing away from the now-frantic man.

The traffic officers shouted, running toward them. Others stepped out of their cars, confused.

“What’s wrong with that guy?!”

“He needs help!”

“He’s bleeding!”

But Masaru knew better. He didn’t waste time explaining.

“Sakura! Kaito! Stay behind me!”

The man let out a strange, guttural gurgle from inside the car. He slammed against the door again—harder—as if trying to break out.

Masaru’s heart pounded. “He’s turning.”

Kaito looked pale, sweating. “W-What do we do?!”

Masaru’s jaw tightened. “We either run—or end this before it gets worse.”

And the window… was starting to crack all the way through.

Everything was being recorded—some were streaming it live, others were filming it, and it seemed to be going viral in no time.

The crowd grew tighter, cameras raised.

“Someone call an ambulance!”

“Is he having a seizure?!”

One of the traffic officers, a burly man in his mid-40s, pushed through the small group gathering around the vehicle. He rushed to the back door, yanked it open without a second thought.

“Hang in there,” he muttered, reaching in to lift the man upright.

That’s when it happened.

CHOMP.

A sickening, wet sound—the kind that instantly silenced the crowd.

The officer let out a blood-curdling scream as teeth sank into his neck, tearing flesh.

Blood sprayed across the car window.

Gasps turned to screams.

“HE BIT HIM!”

“OH MY GOD—HE BIT THE OFFICER!”

Phones dropped. Some ran. Some just froze. Others kept filming.

The bitten officer staggered back, clutching his neck, his yellow vest now dark red.

Masaru’s eyes widened. “No time.”

He grabbed Sakura’s wrist. “We’re leaving—NOW!”

“W-What—?!”

“RUN!”

He yanked her into motion, weaving through the scattering crowd. Behind them, chaos erupted—horns blaring, shouts rising, and more phones filming, catching every second as the nightmare unfolded.

And somewhere, in the mess of it all, the video was already racking up views.