Simon carried the young woman in his arms, every step a struggle against the overwhelming weight of her body and the wind that howled around him.
His hair whipped against his face, stinging his eyes, but he didn't care. \His focus was singular — getting them out.
They had to survive. The fear coursing through him was like a heavy presence, but he didn't dare let it stop him.
The hallway of the building was chaos. People rushed past him in a mad frenzy, their footsteps loud on the tile, fear was in the air.
Workers shoved and elbowed each other aside, desperate to reach the exits, their faces a mix of panic and determination.
Some of them tripped, falling to the floor as the crowd surged forward, but no one stopped to help.
Everyone was only concerned with their own survival, no one even bothering to check on the others.
Simon grimaced, but he couldn't afford to think about anyone but the woman in his arms.
Her face was pale, her eyes closed, her head lolling against his chest. He could feel the rise and fall of her breath, shallow and uneven.
He wasn't sure if she was fully conscious or not, but it didn't matter. His heart pounded in his chest, urging him forward, pushing him to get out before it was too late.
As they reached the ground floor, the rush for the exit intensified. The door to the outside was within sight, only a few feet away, but the mass of people ahead was blocking it.
The crowd surged toward the door with an intensity that made Simon's heart skip a beat. They had to get out, they had to — otherwise, they would be trapped.
With one last burst of strength, Simon pushed his way forward, ignoring the angry shoves from others who tried to cut him off.
The door was just in front of him, and he could see the light from outside spilling through the cracks, a beacon of hope.
But just as they were about to reach it, the door suddenly swung open, and his breath caught in his throat.
Standing there in the doorway was the Manager.
At first, Simon couldn't believe his eyes. The Manager had been fallen... down six floors and onto the ground.
He had seen the man fall — seen him plummet from the building. But now, here he was, standing in the doorway. His skin was an unnatural shade of green, bruised and bloodied, and his eyes were wide and blank, empty of any recognition.
Simon's mind raced. How had he survived that fall? How was he standing there?
The Manager's body was covered in wounds, but what disturbed Simon more was the faint steam rising from the gashes and cuts.
The steam swirled around the wounds, as though they were healing right before Simon's eyes.
The man — or whatever was left of him — shouldn't have been moving, yet here he was, standing in front of the door, his eyes vacant but his body somehow alive.
Then, the Manager dropped to all fours, his limbs contorting in unnatural ways as he crawled forward, his movements jerky but fast.
The silence that followed was deafening. It was as if the whole world had paused for a moment, everyone frozen in place, watching the horror unfold before them.
And then the chaos erupted.
The Manager lunged at the nearest worker, a coder who had been struggling to make his way through the crowd.
In an instant, the coder was knocked to the ground, his scream cutting through the air.
The worker tried to fight back, punching at the Manager's face, kicking at the thing that had once been human, but the creature didn't flinch. It didn't hesitate.
The Manager snarled, a guttural sound that made Simon's stomach twist.
His teeth, yellowed and sharp, sunk into the coder's arm with sickening ease.
Blood sprayed in every direction as the worker screamed, thrashing in an attempt to break free, but the Manager didn't let go.
It didn't even seem to notice the man's struggle.
The other workers around them had no choice but to flee. They raced for the exit, panic overtaking them as they scrambled past the scene of horror.
Some made it through the door, but others were not so lucky. The Manager, still on all fours, lashed out, grabbing the pants of two more coders, dragging them down to the floor with inhuman strength.
Simon didn't look back. He couldn't. There was nothing he could do for them. The thought barely registered in his mind as he pushed forward, his legs moving as if on instinct, dragging the woman with him.
He needed to get out. They had to get out.
As he reached the door, a sudden thought flashed through his mind. He glanced back.
For just a second, he couldn't help himself. His eyes flicked toward the lobby, his gaze catching the first coder that had been attacked by the Manager.
The man struggled to rise to his feet, but something was horribly wrong.
His body had turned the same sickly green as the Manager's, his eyes empty and dead.
One of his arms was missing, torn away in the frenzy. And yet, despite all that, he moved. He wasn't dead.
The man turned toward Simon. His head tilted at an odd angle, and a low growl escaped from his throat. It was the same sound the Manager had made earlier.
Simon's blood ran cold. The reality of what was happening hit him like a physical blow. The apocalypse had begun.
Without wasting another second, Simon turned and fled, bursting through the door into the cold night air.
The woman in his arms felt lighter now, but Simon's mind was elsewhere.
His thoughts were a blur, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't stop running. Not yet. Not while the world was falling apart around him.
As he pushed forward, the chaos of the building already fading behind him, Simon couldn't shake the image of the green-eyed coder, now one of them.
Simon didn't know what the future held. All he knew was that the world had changed, and the fight for survival had just begun.
The apocalypse had begun. And there was no turning back.