Ryo sat on the edge of his bed, the dim glow from his smartphone casting an unsettling pallor over his face in the darkened room. The silence of his apartment weighed heavily, broken only by the faint hum of his phone's processor. He took a steadying breath as he navigated to his news app, fingers trembling. Every swipe felt like peeling back layers of a hidden reality that had swallowed his world while he was lost in fevered unconsciousness.
He opened the app, eyes scanning for any headline that might explain the deserted streets, the absence of people, and the gnawing emptiness. The app loaded slowly, each moment filled with his pulse thrumming in his ears. Finally, the articles appeared, and his eyes widened as he read the headlines.
"Mysterious Virus Outbreak Shuts Down Major Cities Worldwide"
"Government Declares State of Emergency; Citizens Urged to Stay Indoors"
"Mass Evacuations Ordered Amid Spread of Unidentified Contagion"
Each title hit him like a punch, leaving his mind reeling. The outbreak—whatever it was—had clearly unfolded rapidly, leaving no time for people to make proper preparations. He continued scrolling, his gaze fixed on an article timestamped five days ago.
"Viral Outbreak Unleashes Chaos: Millions Affected as Health Officials Struggle to Contain Spread"
He read the article, each paragraph describing the inexplicable and rapid spread of a virus that had incapacitated entire communities. Hospitals were overrun, healthcare systems buckling under the sheer numbers of infected. Panic, looting, and mass migration had left cities in ruins as people fled from what seemed like an unstoppable force.
As Ryo read, his fingers tightened around the phone, his breath catching. Each word painted a world unrecognizable from the one he'd known. The article described how, within hours of infection, people were overtaken by violent, uncontrollable urges, transforming into relentless creatures driven by a singular, terrifying instinct: the need to feed.
Photos flashed across the screen—metropolitan areas in shambles, police and military personnel barricading streets, and massive crowds scrambling to escape. Governments had scrambled to contain the spread, but the virus was ruthless, decimating urban centers and then spilling into the countryside.
Ryo's mind spun with questions. His thoughts drifted back to the experimental injection he'd taken and the days of fever that had left him bedridden. He shook his head, pushing away the creeping fear that whatever was in his blood might somehow link him to this catastrophe.
Forcing his attention back to the screen, he continued reading. In the last section, the article reported desperate measures: entire cities were quarantined, and travel was heavily restricted. Citizens were advised to stay inside, lock their doors, and avoid any infected individuals. The words blurred as Ryo stared, a dark realization dawning on him. Everyone had followed that advice and left him alone to fend for himself.
Ryo's hand trembled as he scrolled further, each sentence driving home the grim reality of his new world. The virus had spread with a terrifying swiftness, leaving even the most fortified cities vulnerable to waves of the infected. Authorities had been overwhelmed, their response too slow to stem the outbreak.
The article described the reanimated infected in chilling detail: soulless eyes, relentless speed, and an insatiable hunger that drove them to attack anything that moved. They retained no trace of their former humanity—only a primal, consuming urge to hunt.
As he took in the horror unfolding on his screen, Ryo couldn't ignore the irony of his own situation. He'd fallen ill with almost identical symptoms—fever, body aches, fatigue—and yet here he was, seemingly unaffected. Somehow, he'd survived an illness that was sweeping the world, leaving only ruin in its wake.
Desperate for more information, Ryo switched to social media. He scrolled through posts, each one a snapshot of the chaos that had ensued. People shared their fears, their losses, and their struggles to survive in the new reality. Some posts contained videos of frantic evacuations, empty grocery stores, and makeshift fortresses where survivors tried to hold out against the undead.
One video in particular caught Ryo's attention. It showed a group of people in a crowded hospital, their faces masks of fear and despair. A voiceover explained that the virus was highly contagious and that medical resources were stretched to the breaking point. The video cut to scenes of empty streets, echoing the desolation Ryo had witnessed firsthand.
Another video caught his eye. It was a live-stream, showing a family locked inside their home, trying to stay safe. The parents, looking increasingly worried, held their children close as they explained how they had fortified their house against the zombies outside. Then, in the middle of the broadcast, something horrifying happened. One of the family members—a young woman—suddenly collapsed. The camera shook as panic spread across the room. Her body shuddered violently, and within moments, she began to convulse, her eyes widening as her skin turned a sickly pale. Ryo's stomach turned as he watched the transformation unfold. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and with an unsettling, unnatural growl, she lunged at the closest person.
The screen went black as the video abruptly ended, leaving Ryo staring at his phone in stunned silence. His mind raced. What had happened to that woman? How quickly had she changed? And was that going to happen to everyone who got infected? The scene felt too real, too close to home.
His fingers hovered over the screen as he thought about the virus, his own fever, and the strange way he had woken up feeling better after days of illness.
As he continued to browse, Ryo noticed a backlog of notifications from the past few days. His heart sank as he opened his messaging app, finding a stream of messages from friends and family, their concern growing with each unanswered text. His fingers hovered over the screen, guilt and sorrow welling up as he read their desperate pleas for contact. But then he realized—the most recent messages were dated several days ago. No one had contacted him in the past few days.
One message stood out from the rest, sent by his childhood friend, Yuki. "Ryo, where are you? The world's in chaos. Are you safe? Please, if you get this, let me know you're okay." Ryo's throat tightened as he read the message. He hadn't considered how his sudden disappearance would have affected those who cared about him.
He quickly typed a response, his fingers shaking slightly. "Yuki, I'm okay. Just saw your message. What's happening? Where are you?" He hit send, hoping for a quick reply. His phone buzzed in his hand, the anticipation almost too much to bear.
But after several minutes, there was no new response. Ryo's heart sank even further as he realized that Yuki, along with everyone else, had stopped messaging him after the sixth day of the outbreak. What had happened during that time? Why had everyone stopped reaching out?
He switched back to the news app, hoping for some updates, but found nothing after Day 6. The last broadcast had been a desperate plea from a reporter, urging survivors to stay inside and avoid the infected. After that, silence.
The lack of new information was unnerving. What had happened to the news stations? Were they overrun too? Was there anyone left to keep the world informed? Ryo ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the uncertainty pressing down on him. The world he had known was falling apart, and he had no answers. Just more questions.
Determined to uncover the truth, Ryo set his jaw in resolve. The weight of the situation pressed on him, and though the night outside was dark and foreboding, he knew he couldn't wait any longer. Tomorrow—he would head back to the research facility. It was the only lead he had, the place where everything had started, and perhaps, the key to understanding what was happening.
The thought of going back unsettled him. The facility, now likely abandoned or overrun, held too many unanswered questions. But there was no time to waste. Nighttime was not the right time to venture out into the unknown; it was already too dangerous to trust the safety of the daylight, but at least during the day, there might be less of a chance of encountering any dangers, if any were still around.
Ryo stood up from his bed, his mind racing with preparations. He had to gather what he could for the journey—food, water, whatever weapons or tools might be available. There was no telling what kind of chaos might have descended on the city in his absence.
He glanced out of his apartment window again, the empty streets stretching out before him, a ghost town under the dim glow of the streetlights. A heavy silence seemed to hang over the city, broken only by the occasional sound of the wind. It was as if the world had held its breath, waiting for something, anything to break the stillness.
With a final look at his phone, Ryo turned away. He had no more answers here. He could only hope that the research facility—if it was even intact—held some clue to what had caused the outbreak, and why it seemed to have spared him. Tomorrow, he would find out. He had no other choice.
( End of Chapter )