May 13, 2026
Two days had passed since Lucy and the survivors fought their way out of the church, and the city around them had transformed into a veritable nightmare. Fires dotted the skyline, smoke rising in thick plumes that choked the streets. News stations, what few were still broadcasting, painted the image of a world crumbling under the weight of an invisible menace. The infection was everywhere now, spreading faster than even the most pessimistic projections had predicted.
Lucy adjusted her grip on the scavenged knife, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over her. Her makeshift group of survivors had been lucky to find an abandoned apartment building where they could regroup, but supplies were running low, and the infected were only growing more relentless. Sam, Frank, and the others took turns watching for any signs of danger, their nerves fraying more with each passing hour.
"How's everyone holding up?" Lucy whispered, kneeling beside David, who was peering out a crack in the boarded-up window.
David's face was gaunt, shadowed by days of sleepless nights and endless fear. He shook his head slowly. "We can't stay here, Lucy. We're running out of food, and it's only a matter of time before the infected catch our scent. We need to move."
Lucy nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. Staying in one place was a death sentence. She glanced around the dim room, taking in the weary faces of her group—each person carrying the weight of the unimaginable horrors they'd seen and survived.
"Alright, everyone," she called, her voice steady but soft. "Pack what you can carry. We're moving out."
The group moved quickly, gathering their scant belongings and remaining supplies. Lucy watched them with a sinking feeling, knowing their chances were slim, but refusing to let the thought settle. She had to keep hope alive, for herself and for everyone who looked to her for guidance.
"Where do we go from here?" Sam asked, slinging a worn backpack over his shoulder.
Lucy looked at the map they'd scavenged from a gas station two days earlier. "If we can make it to the riverfront, there might be boats. We'll follow the river, get out of the city. It's our best shot at staying ahead of the infected."
They moved in silence, descending the stairs of the apartment building with cautious steps. Every sound echoed, magnifying the tension. Outside, the streets were littered with debris, abandoned cars, and the occasional corpse. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and decay, a harsh reminder of the new reality they were living in.
As they made their way through the deserted streets, Lucy couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Every shadow seemed to move, every gust of wind felt like a whisper warning them of unseen dangers. The infected were more cunning now, as though the disease was evolving, learning from every encounter with the living.
"Keep close," she whispered, signaling for the others to stay near.
The sound of distant gunfire shattered the silence, making them all freeze. Lucy motioned for everyone to take cover, pressing themselves against the side of a building as they waited. The gunfire continued, followed by screams—human screams—before everything went quiet again.
"Who's out there?" David asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Probably the military," Lucy replied, though she wasn't sure. "They're still trying to contain the outbreak, but it's getting out of their control."
They waited a few more moments before moving again, the silence hanging heavily over them. As they neared the riverfront, they began to encounter more signs of the chaos spreading through the city: shops broken into, blood smeared across walls, and messages scrawled in desperate handwriting—warnings, pleas for help, and curses against the scientists who had created the plague.
Lucy felt a shiver run down her spine as she read one of the messages: "The end is here. We are the last."
The riverfront was eerily quiet as they arrived, the water dark and still under the overcast sky. Several boats were docked, but they were either locked or damaged, likely looted by other desperate survivors. Lucy's heart sank as she surveyed the scene, realizing that their escape might be more complicated than she'd hoped.
"There's one that looks intact!" Sam pointed, spotting a small motorboat tied to a post further down the dock.
They hurried toward it, their footsteps echoing on the wooden planks. As they approached, Lucy's heart leapt with cautious hope. The boat was indeed in decent shape, and a quick check confirmed that it still had fuel. It was their chance.
"We're getting out of here," she said, her voice filled with a determination that cut through the fear.
They climbed into the boat, Lucy taking the wheel as the others settled in, clinging to the sides as they pushed off from the dock. The motor roared to life, a beacon of noise in the otherwise silent riverfront. Lucy's hands were steady on the controls, her eyes focused on the horizon as they left the city behind, the skyline shrinking into the distance.
The river carried them away from the heart of the infection, the water a silent companion as they drifted through a landscape of decay and abandonment. Lucy felt a weight lift from her shoulders as they put distance between themselves and the horrors they'd escaped. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe they might actually survive.
But the peace was short-lived.
As they rounded a bend in the river, Lucy's heart sank at the sight before them. The banks were crowded with figures—infected, their faces twisted in rage and hunger as they waded into the water, reaching out with clawed hands toward the boat. Their numbers were staggering, a mass of bodies stretching as far as the eye could see, their moans filling the air.
"Hold on!" Lucy shouted, steering the boat away from the shore, but the infected were relentless, pushing deeper into the river, some even swimming toward them.
"Can they swim?" David asked, his voice laced with panic.
"Apparently, they can," Lucy replied, her grip tightening on the wheel. "But they're slower in the water. We can outrun them."
She pushed the boat's speed to its limit, the engine straining as they cut through the water, leaving the infected behind. The river was their only path now, a lifeline leading them away from the infected swarms that had claimed the city.
For hours, they traveled in tense silence, the river stretching endlessly before them. As the sun began to set, casting an orange glow over the water, Lucy allowed herself a moment to breathe, her mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.
"Do you think there's anyone left?" Frank asked quietly, his gaze distant.
Lucy didn't answer right away, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I don't know," she admitted. "But as long as we're alive, there's hope. We just have to keep moving."
The night settled around them, the stars beginning to appear in the sky above. They anchored the boat in a secluded bend of the river, deciding to rest for the night. Exhaustion weighed heavily on them, their bodies and minds worn down by the constant fear and tension.
As they huddled together on the boat, Lucy found herself staring up at the stars, a silent plea forming in her mind. She didn't know if there was anyone listening, but she clung to the hope that they would find safety, that there was a place untouched by the infection.
The night was quiet, the only sound the gentle lapping of the water against the boat. But as Lucy closed her eyes, drifting into an uneasy sleep, a new fear crept into her heart—a fear of what awaited them beyond the river, in a world that was quickly succumbing to the virobacterium cataclysmica prionis.