Chapter 1: Whispers of the End
Ash stared at the crimson smear on the sidewalk, a sticky trail leading to the empty road beyond. The sun was still rising, casting a strange golden hue over the scene, as if it didn’t understand that everything was falling apart. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked—sharp, frantic, a sound that carried too far in the unnerving stillness.
“Another virus,” her dad had said weeks ago, his voice dripping with exhaustion. “We’ve lived through worse.” He was wrong, of course. He’d died proving it.
Now the streets were deserted, the quiet louder than it had any right to be. Ash adjusted her grip on the cracked phone in her hand, not because she needed it but because it gave her something to hold onto. A habit, like chewing your nails or pretending you weren’t on the verge of screaming.
There had been warnings, whispers that started soft and grew louder, but no one wanted to listen. Not after the last time. The world had already been burned out on panic, and Ash had been no different. Another flu. Another headline. Another excuse for the news to get people worked up. It wasn’t until the neighbors stopped coming home that it started to feel real.
She kicked a can down the driveway, watching it skitter and spin before disappearing into the shadows. It wasn’t just the virus that had come for them—it was the silence. The stillness. The way the world felt hollow, like a shell of what it had been.
The faint shuffle of footsteps made her stop. Her breath hitched as she turned, the weight of the silence pressing against her chest. It wasn’t her dad. It wasn’t her brother. She knew that much. She wasn’t stupid.
But maybe she was still hopeful
The footsteps stopped.
Ash didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. There was a rhythm to it, a familiar shuffle, but it was wrong. Too slow. Too deliberate. Too much like something that shouldn’t be.
She backed up, inch by inch, her foot brushing against the edge of the porch. The wood creaked under her weight, a sound that felt too loud in the quiet. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her mind screamed for her to run, but her legs wouldn’t listen.
Then she saw it—him, stumbling out of the neighbor’s yard, his face pale and eyes wide, but not with fear. They were empty, like someone had forgotten to put a soul in there.
He looked like he had just woken up from a nap, but there was no mistaking it. His lips were cracked, his skin splotchy and gray, and the ragged breathing that wheezed from his throat wasn’t quite a breath at all. It was a hiss, like air leaking out of a punctured tire. He took another step forward, and she could hear the sickening squelch of his foot against the wet grass.
For a second, everything inside her just froze. She didn’t know whether she should scream or run, but neither seemed like the right answer. Not anymore.
"Hey," she called out, her voice weak, even to her own ears. The neighbor’s name—Tim?—sat on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t remember. It felt wrong to even think about it.
But Tim didn’t answer. Tim didn’t do anything except keep moving toward her.
“Hey!” she shouted again, louder this time, her feet finally deciding to move. She took a few cautious steps back toward the door, each one slower than the last. Then her heel caught the edge of the step, and she stumbled. Her knee hit the ground with a sharp jolt of pain, but she didn’t make a sound.
That’s when she heard it. A distant crash, followed by another scream. It was sharp and high-pitched, more frantic than anything she’d heard all day.
And then a second scream. This one coming from inside the house.
Ash’s pulse roared in her ears. She didn’t know why she couldn’t move. Why her hands felt numb, her mouth dry, or why her brain was telling her to run while her feet refused to listen. All she could do was stare at Tim—no, not Tim—getting closer, his body jerking in unnatural, broken motions. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a shaky breath.
“You need to—”
Her words were cut off by a snap—a sound like a branch breaking—and suddenly, Eve was there.
She appeared out of nowhere, like she had been standing just out of view, waiting for her moment. Ash barely had time to blink before Eve shoved her aside, her eyes wild, her hands shaking with a knife that wasn’t hers. But there was no time for that. There was no time for anything.
Eve’s eyes caught hers for a split second. Just long enough for Ash to see something—fear?—before Eve lunged forward, driving the knife into the neighbor’s throat with a sickening crunch.
The world tilted sideways for a moment. Ash’s stomach twisted, her body screaming at her to do something—anything—but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mess unfolding in front of her. Blood dripped onto the porch, splattering her shoes.
The body crumpled to the ground.
Eve stood over it, chest heaving, the knife dripping. She wiped it off on her jeans, never looking at Ash, not even once.
“This is happening now,” Eve said, her voice like gravel, harsh and jagged. “Get your shit together.”
Ash opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Eve didn’t wait. She turned, looking back over her shoulder only long enough to make sure Ash was still standing. Then, without a word, she started walking down the street.
Ash hesitated. She wanted to stay. She wanted to pretend she could be normal again. She wanted to scream at the world for turning upside down. But none of it mattered.
Nothing mattered but moving.
Chapter 1: Whispers of the End
Ash stared at the crimson smear on the sidewalk, a sticky trail leading to the empty road beyond. The sun was still rising, casting a strange golden hue over the scene, as if it didn’t understand that everything was falling apart. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked—sharp, frantic, a sound that carried too far in the unnerving stillness.
“Another virus,” her dad had said weeks ago, his voice dripping with exhaustion. “We’ve lived through worse.” He was wrong, of course. He’d died proving it.
Now the streets were deserted, the quiet louder than it had any right to be. Ash adjusted her grip on the cracked phone in her hand, not because she needed it but because it gave her something to hold onto. A habit, like chewing your nails or pretending you weren’t on the verge of screaming.
There had been warnings, whispers that started soft and grew louder, but no one wanted to listen. Not after the last time. The world had already been burned out on panic, and Ash had been no different. Another flu. Another headline. Another excuse for the news to get people worked up. It wasn’t until the neighbors stopped coming home that it started to feel real.
She kicked a can down the driveway, watching it skitter and spin before disappearing into the shadows. It wasn’t just the virus that had come for them—it was the silence. The stillness. The way the world felt hollow, like a shell of what it had been.
The faint shuffle of footsteps made her stop. Her breath hitched as she turned, the weight of the silence pressing against her chest. It wasn’t her dad. It wasn’t her brother. She knew that much. She wasn’t stupid.
But maybe she was still hopeful
The footsteps stopped.
Ash didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. There was a rhythm to it, a familiar shuffle, but it was wrong. Too slow. Too deliberate. Too much like something that shouldn’t be.
She backed up, inch by inch, her foot brushing against the edge of the porch. The wood creaked under her weight, a sound that felt too loud in the quiet. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her mind screamed for her to run, but her legs wouldn’t listen.
Then she saw it—him, stumbling out of the neighbor’s yard, his face pale and eyes wide, but not with fear. They were empty, like someone had forgotten to put a soul in there.
He looked like he had just woken up from a nap, but there was no mistaking it. His lips were cracked, his skin splotchy and gray, and the ragged breathing that wheezed from his throat wasn’t quite a breath at all. It was a hiss, like air leaking out of a punctured tire. He took another step forward, and she could hear the sickening squelch of his foot against the wet grass.
For a second, everything inside her just froze. She didn’t know whether she should scream or run, but neither seemed like the right answer. Not anymore.
"Hey," she called out, her voice weak, even to her own ears. The neighbor’s name—Tim?—sat on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t remember. It felt wrong to even think about it.
But Tim didn’t answer. Tim didn’t do anything except keep moving toward her.
“Hey!” she shouted again, louder this time, her feet finally deciding to move. She took a few cautious steps back toward the door, each one slower than the last. Then her heel caught the edge of the step, and she stumbled. Her knee hit the ground with a sharp jolt of pain, but she didn’t make a sound.
That’s when she heard it. A distant crash, followed by another scream. It was sharp and high-pitched, more frantic than anything she’d heard all day.
And then a second scream. This one coming from inside the house.
Ash’s pulse roared in her ears. She didn’t know why she couldn’t move. Why her hands felt numb, her mouth dry, or why her brain was telling her to run while her feet refused to listen. All she could do was stare at Tim—no, not Tim—getting closer, his body jerking in unnatural, broken motions. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a shaky breath.
“You need to—”
Her words were cut off by a snap—a sound like a branch breaking—and suddenly, Eve was there.
She appeared out of nowhere, like she had been standing just out of view, waiting for her moment. Ash barely had time to blink before Eve shoved her aside, her eyes wild, her hands shaking with a knife that wasn’t hers. But there was no time for that. There was no time for anything.
Eve’s eyes caught hers for a split second. Just long enough for Ash to see something—fear?—before Eve lunged forward, driving the knife into the neighbor’s throat with a sickening crunch.
The world tilted sideways for a moment. Ash’s stomach twisted, her body screaming at her to do something—anything—but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mess unfolding in front of her. Blood dripped onto the porch, splattering her shoes.
The body crumpled to the ground.
Eve stood over it, chest heaving, the knife dripping. She wiped it off on her jeans, never looking at Ash, not even once.
“This is happening now,” Eve said, her voice like gravel, harsh and jagged. “Get your shit together.”
Ash opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Eve didn’t wait. She turned, looking back over her shoulder only long enough to make sure Ash was still standing. Then, without a word, she started walking down the street.
Ash hesitated. She wanted to stay. She wanted to pretend she could be normal again. She wanted to scream at the world for turning upside down. But none of it mattered.
Nothing mattered but moving.
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