Rath watched Tara leave, her concern a lingering shadow in the doorway.
His apartment, a sanctuary of solitude, felt colder than usual. The walls seemed to close in, the weight of impending doom heavy in the stale air. He knew he couldn't afford to let fear paralyze him. Time was slipping away, and with it, the slim chance he had to prepare for the nightmare that was about to unfold.
He glanced at his notebook, the hurried scrawl of survival notes a stark reminder of the grim reality he faced. Rath knew that understanding the virus—its origins, its transmission, its deadly efficiency—was crucial. He needed to be ahead of it, to predict its spread and stay one step ahead of the chaos.
Rath's mind drifted back to the early days of the apocalypse, trying to piece together what he had learned in fragments and whispers. The virus had emerged from a research lab in a small, unassuming town. Officially, it was a facility dedicated to vaccine development and disease prevention. Unofficially, it was a ticking time bomb of bioengineered nightmares.
The virus, dubbed "NecroX" by the few scientists who had glimpsed its horror before succumbing to it, was an accidental creation. A misguided attempt to develop a revolutionary treatment for neurodegenerative diseases had gone horribly wrong. Instead of curing, it corrupted. The virus attacked the brain's neural pathways, turning its victims into mindless, ravenous husks driven by a primal instinct to feed and spread the infection.
Rath knew the story well. He had seen the confidential reports, heard the hushed conversations of surviving researchers. The virus's first victim had been a lab technician, exposed during an unexpected containment breach. From there, it had spread with terrifying speed, first within the lab, then the town, and finally beyond. Authorities had been slow to react, their disbelief and bureaucratic inertia allowing the virus to gain a foothold it would never relinquish.
Determined to uncover more, Rath turned to his old laptop, the screen flickering to life in the dim light. He hacked into online forums, news archives, and dark web channels, searching for any shred of information that could give him an edge, choosing computer science as his main course in college sure came in handy at times like this, that and the fact that he was a bit of a nerd in that regard. The familiar hum of the computer was oddly comforting, a link to the person he had been before the world fell apart.
Hours passed in a blur of clicking keys and scrolling text. Rath pieced together fragments of classified reports and leaked documents, constructing a grim timeline of the virus's emergence. The initial outbreak had been swift and brutal, with the first wave of infections reported in densely populated urban centers. Hospitals were overwhelmed, and the authorities' attempts at quarantine were futile against the virus's aggressive nature.
He found a name that kept recurring: Dr. Adrian Kessler. Kessler had been the lead researcher at the lab, a brilliant but controversial figure in the scientific community. Rumors swirled about his unorthodox methods and disregard for ethical boundaries. Rath's gut told him that if anyone had answers, it was Kessler.
A quick search revealed Kessler's current whereabouts: a remote cabin in the mountains. Rath hoped that he can talk to Kessler before they start working on the virus or if they already did, he might be able to at least stop the outbreak. Rath jotted down the location.
The next morning, Rath packed a bag with essentials—food, water, medical supplies, and a map. He scribbled a quick note for Tara, leaving it on the kitchen counter where she would find it.
"Stay safe. Trust no one. I'll be back."
The journey to the mountains was arduous, the roads still untouched by the impending collapse. Rath drove in silence, the hum of the engine his only companion. The landscape changed from urban sprawl to rugged wilderness, a stark reminder of nature's indifference to human suffering.
As he neared the cabin, Rath's nerves frayed. He parked the car at a distance, proceeding on foot through the dense forest. The air was crisp, each step crunching softly on the fallen leaves. The cabin came into view, a dilapidated structure nestled among the trees. The cabin was very isolated, though that might be a good thing if worst came to worst while talking with the doctor.
Rath approached cautiously. He knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the stillness. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, the door creaked open, revealing a gaunt figure with haunted eyes.
"Dr. Kessler?" Rath asked, his voice steady despite the tension coiled within him.
Kessler nodded, suspicion flickering in his gaze. "Who are you?"
"Someone who knows what's coming," Rath replied. "And someone who needs your help to survive it."
Kessler hesitated before stepping aside, allowing Rath to enter. The cabin was sparse, filled with scientific equipment and stacks of papers. Rath's eyes were drawn to a board covered in diagrams and notes, a chaotic map of the virus's development. That means that the virus has already been developed.
"You know about NecroX," Kessler said, his voice a mix of exhaustion and resignation. "What do you want from me?"
"Information," Rath said. "And any chance you might have at stopping it."
Kessler sighed, sinking into a chair. "Stopping it? I don't know if that's possible. But I can tell you everything I know. Maybe, just maybe, it will be enough to give you a fighting chance."
Kessler said motioning to the other chair. He himself couldn't stop it as the person who was the leading scientist in the project.
Rath nodded, pulling out his notebook. He was ready to listen, to learn, and to fight for survival in a world on the brink of oblivion.
Rath needed this information, if just to confirm that his dream, or rather the future he saw was fully real and not just a nightmare.