The Sun rose quiet over the city, casting a soft golden hue accros the Skyline. It was Just another Morning, filled with the usual routines. Birds chirped outside the window, and the streets below hummed with the slow rhythm of daily life. Cars rolled down the avenues, people sipped coffee at cafes, and joggers paced the parks.
In his small apartment, Lester, a soldier freshly returned from his last overseas tour, sat by the window, savoring the rare calm. The faint scent of breakfast hung in the air, and the faint sound of the news anchor's voice came from the television in the background.
"...today's top story, a new flu-like virus has been detected in several major cities…"
Lester's attention drifted away. It was just another headline, another minor scare. He knew the world had bigger problems—wars, politics, the mess of life. A virus? Just another thing to ignore.
But the tone of the broadcast shifted. The words became sharper. He glanced at the screen.
"...what started as isolated cases is now spreading rapidly. Symptoms include fever, disorientation, and—"
The anchor paused, her face growing pale.
"...violent behavior."
Images flashed across the screen—people in hospitals, their faces twisted in unnatural rage, attacking doctors, each other. Chaos.
Lester's stomach twisted as the peaceful morning shattered. He stood up, eyes glued to the screen, heart racing. The anchor's voice was barely controlled.
"Citizens are advised to stay indoors. Avoid contact with anyone showing symptoms. Authorities are still investigating the cause…"
The door to Lester's apartment rattled slightly, and distant screams echoed from the street below. The world outside was already changing, and Lester knew all too well that peace never lasted long.
ester's pulse quickened as the distant screams grew louder. He grabbed his phone, hands slightly trembling, and dialed his father, Chris. His heart pounded with each ring, until finally, Chris's familiar voice answered, calm and steady.
"Hey, son. Everything okay?" Chris asked, his voice a welcome anchor in the storm of Lester's rising panic.
"Dad, have you seen the news? There's some kind of virus—people are going crazy, attacking each other," Lester said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"Yeah, I saw something about it," Chris replied. "But don't worry, everything's fine here. Your mom and I are just at the house, same as always."
Lester closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. Hearing his dad's voice brought him a moment of relief, but he knew the situation was unraveling fast. "Listen, Dad, I need you to stay inside. Lock all the doors and windows. Don't go out for any reason. I'm going to come get you, okay? I'll make sure you're safe."
Chris's laugh on the other end was soft but reassuring. "Lester, we've been through worse. You don't have to worry about us. We're fine, really."
But Lester wasn't convinced. His instincts told him the worst was still to come, and his father's calmness didn't match the urgency he felt. "Dad, just stay home. Please. I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll figure it out."
Before Chris could respond, Lester's phone buzzed in his hand—another call coming in. The familiar number flashed across the screen. It was the Army.
He hesitated, torn between his duty to his family and the call to serve his country. His father's voice broke the silence.
"Go, son," Chris said firmly, as if sensing the conflict. "You've got a job to do. Don't worry about us. We'll be waiting for you when it's all over."
Lester's heart sank, but he knew his father was right. With a heavy sigh, he answered the Army's call.
"Sergeant Lester, you're needed on active duty. Report to the base immediately. We're deploying forces in response to the crisis across the country."
Lester gripped the phone tightly, staring out at the city. "Understood. I'll be there."
As he hung up, the weight of the world pressed down on him. He had a mission to protect his country, but his family needed him too.
For a moment, he stood frozen, torn between his duty as a soldier and as a son.
Lester stood in front of the mirror, the weight of his decision reflecting back at him. He moved with precision, slipping on his Army fatigues, the fabric familiar but heavier with the knowledge of what lay ahead. The uniform, once a source of pride and identity, now carried a deeper burden. His country needed him again, but so did his family.
He strapped his sidearm to his waist, the cool steel a reminder of the life he had left behind, only to find himself thrust back into the chaos. The screams from the streets outside had quieted, but the tension was palpable, as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for the storm to truly begin.
Lester paused at the door, his mind running over every conversation he'd just had—his father's calm words, the images on the TV, and the Army's urgent call to return to duty. He had made his choice, or at least, that's what he thought. Duty first.
Just as he reached for the doorknob, his phone buzzed again in his pocket, the sharp vibration cutting through the quiet. He pulled it out, seeing Zack's name flashing on the screen. Zack—his old friend, a soldier who had stood by his side during the worst of battles. Lester's stomach knotted. Zack wouldn't be calling just to chat.
He answered with a breathless, "Zack."
"Lester, man. You okay? Are you responding to the Army's call?" Zack's voice came through, tense and layered with worry. "Things are getting out of hand fast. I saw the news."
Lester exhaled sharply, his free hand running over the stubble on his chin. Zack wasn't asking because he didn't know the answer. He was asking because they were both standing at the same crossroads, facing the same impossible choice.
"Yeah," Lester said, his voice steady though his heart was anything but. "I have to. You've seen it, Zack—people are losing it out there. The Army needs us, and I can't just sit back and watch things go to hell."
Zack's silence on the other end of the line was louder than the screams Lester had heard outside minutes ago. Then, Zack spoke, his tone resigned but firm. "I'm not going in, Lester. Not this time. I can't."
Lester blinked, surprised. Zack was the one person who always ran toward danger without hesitation. For him to back down now meant this was more personal than either of them expected. "What do you mean? You're staying out of this?"
"I mean my family's out there, Lester," Zack said, his voice tightening. "They need me. I'm going to them. I've got to make sure they're safe, no matter what the Army says."
Lester stood by the door, frozen in place. Zack's words hit him hard, a reflection of the same conflict eating away at him. His own family—his father's calm assurances, his mother's quiet presence in the background—flashed through his mind. And yet, here he was, getting ready to march back into the fray, away from them.
"Zack, I get it," Lester said after a long pause. "I do. But you know what we swore. We're soldiers. It's what we do. I can't just... leave."
"You're not just a soldier, Lester. You're a son. You've got a family too," Zack replied, his voice gentle but firm. "Your country needs you, sure. But right now, so does your family."
Lester swallowed hard, staring at his own reflection again, the uniform suddenly feeling suffocating. His hands shook slightly, gripping the phone as if it could anchor him. "Yeah. But if I don't respond... what happens then? What if it gets worse? What if—" He stopped, his voice faltering under the weight of it all.
Zack's tone softened. "I get it. You do what you have to do, man. But I'm going home. My family's out there, and I'm not going to leave them to fend for themselves."
Lester stood in the silence that followed, the weight of his decision sinking in. He could feel the pull—the deep loyalty to his country and the unshakable bond with his family. He wasn't sure how to reconcile the two.
He let out a long breath. "Zack... could you do me a favor?"
"Of course," Zack replied without hesitation. "What do you need?"
"My parents—they live just down the road from you. I need you to check on them for me. Make sure they're okay. I'm trusting you with this, man. I have to respond to the Army's call, but... I need to know they're safe."
Zack didn't hesitate. "I'll do it, Lester. I'll go check on them. Don't worry. I'll make sure they're safe."
Lester's throat tightened, a mixture of gratitude and guilt washing over him. "Thanks, Zack. I owe you for this."
"You owe me nothing. We've got each other's backs, always. You just make sure you come back in one piece."
Lester nodded to himself, though Zack couldn't see it. "I'll try. Stay safe out there, brother."
The call ended, and the silence that followed was heavy, more deafening than any noise. For a long moment, Lester stood there, his thoughts racing. He had asked Zack to do what he couldn't—what he should have done himself. But now, with Zack watching over his parents, Lester felt the faintest sense of relief.
He stepped out the door, the sounds of chaos slowly creeping back into focus. The world outside was descending into madness, but Lester had made his choice. He had to answer the call of his country, no matter how much it tore at him inside.
Lester stepped out of his house, his boots hitting the pavement with a dull thud. The quiet that had settled over his neighborhood just moments ago had been shattered by chaos. Screams echoed in the distance, and the streets, once so familiar, were now unrecognizable. People were running in every direction—some clutching their loved ones, others bleeding, their faces twisted into something far from human.
The sight stopped Lester in his tracks. He froze, unable to process the nightmare unfolding before him. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a brief moment, everything around him seemed to slow down. He saw blood splattered across windows, people stumbling and falling, their movements frantic and disjointed. Some of them had dark, crimson stains spreading across their clothes. But it wasn't the blood that unnerved him—it was their faces.
Their eyes, wide and wild, held a glazed, vacant stare, as if something vital inside them had been ripped away. Their skin was pale, almost gray, and their mouths were twisted into grotesque snarls. It was like they were no longer human.
Lester's phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him back to reality, but his body remained frozen. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the horrors in front of him. The panic, the blood, the people who looked... infected. And that's when he saw it—a figure stumbling toward him.
At first, it seemed like any other person fleeing the madness, but as they got closer, Lester realized something was horribly wrong. The man's clothes were torn, his skin covered in bruises and bite marks. His mouth was twisted into a feral grin, blood dripping from his lips. His eyes—empty and unrecognizable—locked onto Lester.
Without thinking, Lester reached for his sidearm, but the man lunged before he could react. Instinct kicked in, and Lester dove back into his house, slamming the door just in time. He leaned against it, his breath heavy and ragged, heart pounding in his chest. The infected man banged on the door, growling like an animal, scratching at the wood in an attempt to get in.
Lester's phone buzzed again, vibrating against his leg, and this time he grabbed it with trembling hands. It was the Army. Again. The same number had called him repeatedly, but he had been too stunned to answer.
He pressed the answer button, and before he could even speak, a harsh, cold voice barked through the line.
"Sergeant Lester, report immediately. Do not engage with civilians who appear infected. If you encounter anyone showing signs of infection, shoot them on sight. Headshots only. Do you understand?"
Lester's blood ran cold. "Wait... what? You want us to—"
"Kill them," the voice interrupted sharply. "The infected are no longer human. They're dangerous, unpredictable, and violent. You shoot them in the head, or they'll tear you apart. No exceptions."
Lester felt his stomach twist. "But why? What's happening? Why are they like this?"
The line crackled for a moment, and the voice on the other end lowered, becoming almost cryptic. "You'll understand when you get to the base. We don't have time to explain over the phone. Just follow your orders."
The call ended abruptly, leaving Lester standing in the dimly lit hallway of his house, his heart racing, his mind struggling to catch up with the reality of the situation. His father's voice rang in his ears again, calm and steady from earlier. We'll be fine... We've been through worse.
But this wasn't worse. This was something unimaginable.
His gaze dropped to the name displayed on his phone, his full name staring back at him as if it were someone else's: Lester Redfield. Son of Chris Redfield, a man who had faced the unimaginable in his own time, and yet, here was Lester, about to step into a world that even his father's stories couldn't have prepared him for.
Lester tightened his grip on the gun at his side, his pulse steadying, his soldier's instincts kicking in. He knew what he had to do. But the weight of it—of having to shoot people who had once been human—was heavier than anything he'd ever carried before.
Stepping away from the door, he stared out the window at the chaos beyond, his mind repeating the order over and over: Shoot them. In the head. No exceptions.