Zephyr had no idea when the disaster would strike, or what its initial impact would be. He only knew that the moment the virus thawed from the permafrost, it had begun its silent, deadly spread across the globe. Its infectiousness and lethality dwarfed every other known virus. It would erupt after a period of dormancy, detonating like a chain reaction.
His phone's shrill ring startled him. He grabbed it. Lucy. "I'm on my way. Make sure you're home!"
He'd been worried she'd back out.
"Zephyr, I'm so sorry, but I have to leave. Right now." His stomach plummeted.
"Leave? Where? Lucy, listen to me, you have to stay home, lock your doors. This is…"
"Zephyr, listen to me." She cut him off, her voice urgent, low. "This is going to sound crazy, but the world is ending. Probably in the next few days. I just found out. There's a car waiting for me. I have to go. Stay safe, then get to the entrance of the Sunken Highway. The military will be there. They'll take you to Sunken Safe Island."
"Remember, get to the highway entrance today. The military is evacuating civilians…"
Shouting erupted in the background. "Zephyr, I'm not kidding! This is real!"
The line went dead.
Zephyr stared at his phone. So the evacuations had begun. Sunken Safe Island…what was that? He felt a pang of gratitude towards Lucy. She'd called because she'd been expecting him. She was always so kind.
But even if she reached this "safe island," was she truly safe? He knew the virus had already spread; it was likely discovered after the fact. The incubation period was short. Scientists had only had time to grasp at the edges of the problem, to deduce the impending apocalypse. By the time the authorities realized what was happening, it was already too late.
They couldn't save everyone. They could only save the few. These "safe islands" were meant to preserve the seeds of humanity. But reaching them…there would be screenings, quarantines. Even now, scientists were probably still second-guessing their conclusions, governments hesitant to implement drastic measures. But once the horror of the virus became undeniable, their methods would become ruthless.
The two movers, taking a break, were squatting nearby, smoking and occasionally glancing at the van.
"Man, this ride is sweet! Imagine taking a couple of hotties on a road trip in this thing."
"Living the dream, right? Sightseeing with beautiful women during the day, getting lucky at night…"
One of the movers suddenly swayed, his face flushed crimson.
"Whoa, dude, you alright?"
He pushed the other man's hand away. "Yeah, fine. Just a little dizzy." He thumped his chest. "Nothing I can't handle."
"Probably jerked off too much last night. Thinking about round two already?" They both burst out laughing.
Zephyr watched them, a chill creeping up his spine. That dizzy spell…it was the virus taking hold. The end was less than an hour away.
The mover, still joking with his friend, was oblivious. Zephyr watched him, his gaze cold. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't run the man over; that would cause panic. And with the exact timing of the outbreak unknown, it would put him in danger.
No one could do anything. Not even the government. In an hour, maybe two, the world would change forever.
The movers sat under a tree, smoking.
Zephyr checked his watch: 1:20 PM. He waited.
When the virus hit, everyone would experience a powerful immune response, including him. They were all infected. The difference was, some would survive it. Others wouldn't.
Time stretched on. He gripped the steering wheel, his palms slick with sweat. 2:00 PM. 2:30 PM. 2:40 PM.
The hands on his watch began to blur, then double, then multiply. The whole watch face shimmered.
His head spun. A sharp pain lanced through his forehead as he slumped against the steering wheel. A wave of nausea washed over him.
It's here.
The virus had erupted.
He knew he would survive this initial onslaught, but the agony was almost unbearable.
Across the globe, the same thing was happening.
Headaches. Hallucinations. Seizures. Nosebleeds. Loss of consciousness.
The reactions varied, but the pain was universal. Those who wouldn't survive the virus, those who would transform…their pain was down to the bone.
Screams ripped through the air, inhuman, animalistic howls of agony.
Crashes. Explosions. Fires. On the highways, cars piled up in mangled heaps. In the cities, factories went haywire. The death toll climbed relentlessly. Zephyr, drifting in and out of consciousness, heard the chaos as if from a great distance.
Hallucinations flooded his mind. He saw his parents, alive and smiling. He played with his sister. He saw his mother's birthday cake, made just for him. He saw himself with a wife and children, a happy family. His wife…she looked a little like Lucy…
He drifted for an unknown amount of time, then abruptly woke up, drenched in sweat. His hands were cramped around the steering wheel. The doors and windows were locked. He felt weak, drained.
He looked outside. A thick fog had descended, shrouding everything in a grey, oppressive gloom. Buildings and streets were barely visible.
Distant sirens wailed. He glanced at his watch. 3:50 PM. The same day. He'd been out for just over an hour, but it felt like a lifetime.
The apocalypse…it had finally arrived.
From this day forward, his life would be about survival.
He took a deep breath, started the engine, and drove into the fog.