The air was thick with tension as Harley, Jason, Marie, and Ava made their way out of the washroom. The sound of groaning undead outside the building reminded them that time was a luxury they didn't have. Despite the uncertainty in their hearts, they moved with purpose, sticking close to one another as they headed for the makeshift safe zone the other office survivors had established.
Harley walked at the rear of the group, his mind racing as he replayed the events in the bathroom. The stark white of his skin, the scar on his chest, the unnatural strength he felt coursing through his veins—it all pointed to a truth he couldn't ignore. He wasn't the same. Not anymore.
Jason glanced back at him, his brow furrowed with concern. "How are you holding up?" he asked softly, trying to keep his voice low.
Harley hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I'm managing," he said, his tone clipped. He didn't want to worry them more than they already were.
Marie shot him a look. "You don't look fine, Harley. If something's happening to you, we need to know. We're in this together, remember?"
Ava's voice cut through the tension. "We can't afford secrets right now. Not if it's something that could put all of us at risk."
Harley stopped walking, causing the group to halt. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't know what's happening to me," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "The bite… or the scratch, whatever it was… it's changing me. I can feel it. But I'm not like them. Not yet."
Jason frowned, his hand resting on the axe he carried. "What do you mean 'not yet'?"
Harley clenched his fists. "I mean I'm still me," he said, his voice firm. "I'm not mindless. I'm not hungry for…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. "But I don't know how long that'll last."
Marie stepped closer to him, her expression softening. "Then we'll figure it out," she said. "We're not leaving you behind, Harley."
Ava crossed her arms, her tone pragmatic. "Figuring it out doesn't mean ignoring the danger. If you lose control…"
"I won't," Harley interjected, cutting her off. His voice carried a weight of determination that left no room for doubt. "If it comes to that, I'll deal with it myself. But right now, we need to focus on surviving."
Jason nodded reluctantly. "Then let's move. The others are waiting."
---
The group navigated through the dimly lit hallways of the office building, their footsteps echoing softly. The once-bustling space was now eerily quiet, the remnants of abandoned workstations and scattered papers a stark reminder of how quickly the world had changed.
As they entered the main conference room, a wave of relief washed over them. Dozens of survivors were huddled together, their faces a mix of fear and exhaustion. Among them, Harley recognized familiar faces from his department. His team.
"Jason! Ava! Marie!" A young man—Chris, one of Harley's direct reports—waved them over. "You made it!"
Chris's relief was palpable, and it was mirrored by the other team members. They crowded around Harley, their voices overlapping in a chaotic mix of questions and reassurances. For a moment, the weight of the day lifted slightly. They weren't alone. They still had each other.
"Alright, everyone," Harley said, raising his hands to quiet the room. His voice carried the authority of a leader who had earned the respect of his team. "We need to stay calm and focused. The situation outside isn't getting any better, and if we want to make it through this, we need a plan."
Jason stepped forward, gesturing to a map spread out on a table. "We've barricaded the entrances and set up a watch rotation, but it's only a matter of time before the undead break through. We need to find a way out."
Marie nodded. "There's an underground parking garage. If we can clear it, we might be able to find vehicles and make a break for it."
Ava frowned. "And go where? The streets are crawling with those things."
Chris chimed in. "There's a military evacuation point about ten miles from here. If we can reach it…"
Harley's mind raced as he considered their options. The parking garage was a gamble, but staying in the building was a death sentence. He turned to his team. "We'll need to clear a path to the garage and secure transportation. Jason, you'll lead the front. Ava, Marie, you'll cover the sides. I'll take the rear."
Jason hesitated. "Are you sure you're up for this?"
Harley's gaze hardened. "I'm not sitting this out. Let's move."
---
The journey to the parking garage was harrowing. The undead seemed to sense their movement, their guttural moans growing louder as they closed in. Harley's newfound abilities became apparent as he fought alongside his team. His reflexes were sharper, his strength far beyond what it had been before. He dispatched zombies with brutal efficiency, his axe cutting through them like paper.
But with each swing, he felt the virus's influence pulling at him, a dark whisper at the edge of his consciousness. He pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand.
"We're almost there!" Jason shouted as they reached the stairwell leading to the garage.
Marie covered their rear, her firearm barking as she took down the undead that tried to flank them. Ava led the charge, her knife flashing as she cleared a path down the stairs.
When they finally reached the garage, a sense of grim determination settled over the group. The vehicles were covered in dust, but they were intact. Harley scanned the area, his sharp eyes catching movement in the shadows.
"Stay alert," he warned. "We're not alone."
The sound of scraping metal echoed through the garage, followed by a low growl. From the darkness emerged a zombie unlike any they had encountered before. Its body was grotesquely twisted, its movements unnervingly fast. It lunged at them with a feral snarl, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light.
"What the hell is that?" Marie shouted, firing her gun. The bullets barely slowed the creature.
Harley stepped forward, gripping his axe tightly. "Get the vehicles ready," he ordered. "I'll handle this."
Jason started to protest, but the look in Harley's eyes stopped him. There was no time to argue.
As his team scrambled to hotwire the vehicles, Harley faced the creature alone. The virus inside him surged, amplifying his strength and speed. He dodged the creature's attacks with inhuman precision, his axe striking true. The battle was brutal and chaotic, but in the end, Harley stood victorious, the creature's mangled corpse at his feet.
He turned to his team, bloodied but standing. "Let's go," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.
As the engines roared to life and the group sped out of the garage, Harley couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The virus had changed him, but it had also given him the strength to protect the people he cared