The mansion had settled into a tense quiet. The once-bustling community now seemed frozen under the weight of paranoia. George leaned against the wooden railing of the balcony, staring out at the early morning fog creeping through the trees. He could sense it in the air, the distrust, the fear. The first signs of sickness had already appeared in a few survivors, and everyone knew what was at stake.
He let out a heavy sigh, his mind racing as he considered the situation. The quarantine zones were set up, but even that wasn't enough to quell the growing sense of panic. Any cough, any look of fatigue, sent people into a frenzy of suspicion. The memory of the woman who'd transformed into that horrifying mutant with the leech-like tongue still haunted them all. No one knew how many more could be infected.