Elliot Carson never thought much about the cold. Growing up in the Alaskan wilderness, he had always felt like it was part of him. The snow, the biting winds, the endless nights—it was all normal. It was just the way things were. He knew how to handle it, how to make sure he was always prepared, how to find shelter when the temperature dropped too low. He knew how to survive.

But today was different.

It had started like any other day. He woke up early, the sky still dark outside, the first rays of sunlight just starting to peek over the horizon. His parents were already awake, his mom in the kitchen making breakfast, his dad working on something in the shed out back. Max, their dog, was sprawled on the rug by the fire, his tail wagging lazily as Elliot rubbed his ears.

But there was something wrong with the air. Something... off.

His mom had looked pale at breakfast, and his dad seemed distracted. The news on the radio wasn't helping either. The first reports of a strange illness were coming out of the southern states. People getting sick, burning up from the inside. At first, it didn't sound like much. Just another flu or virus, maybe a bad one. But then came the stories—stories of people whose skin cracked, who seemed to lose all sense of themselves, only to turn into something... worse.

Elliot didn't understand it, not at first. How could anyone turn into something like that? But when he went outside to play with Max later that morning, he saw something that changed everything.

A neighbor, Mrs. Aldridge, was walking down the road toward her house. But she wasn't walking right. Her movements were jerky, uneven. She looked like she was struggling to keep her balance, and there was something about her face... Her eyes were wide open, but they didn't seem to see anything. She was just... walking.

Max started barking, and Elliot's heart skipped a beat. The dog never barked unless there was something wrong.

Elliot froze, watching as Mrs. Aldridge got closer. The skin on her face was peeling, her lips cracked and bleeding. She was burning up. It was as if the sickness had taken over her body, but not her mind—at least not completely. Her mouth opened, but instead of words, it was just a low, guttural growl.

Max growled back, his fur standing on end. Elliot took a step back, his feet sinking into the snow, the cold suddenly feeling like it was crawling under his skin.

"Mrs. Aldridge?" he called, his voice shaky.

She didn't respond. Instead, she lunged.

Elliot didn't know what to do. The whole world seemed to slow down, his mind struggling to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. The woman who had once baked him cookies, who had smiled and waved at him from her porch, was no longer human. She was something else.

Max was the first to react. With a bark, he charged at the woman, teeth bared. She spun around, swiping at him with a clawed hand. Elliot shouted, but his voice felt like it was lost in the wind.

In an instant, the dog and the woman collided. Max yelped as he was thrown back, but he didn't stop. He leapt again, his teeth sinking into Mrs. Aldridge's arm, but it wasn't enough. The woman, now more animal than person, shrieked, her skin bubbling with heat, and with a sudden, unnatural strength, she shoved Max away.

Elliot didn't think. He just ran.

He turned and bolted toward the house, his heart pounding in his chest. Behind him, he could hear the low growls of the infected, the sound growing louder as Mrs. Aldridge stumbled after him.

"Mom! Dad!" he screamed, but his voice barely made it past the frozen air.

The door was locked, and his parents didn't answer. He pounded on it, desperation taking over, his mind spinning. The cold didn't matter anymore. The wind, the snow, the fear—it was all he could feel.

Finally, the door creaked open. His father's face was pale, his eyes wide with panic.

"Get inside, now!" he ordered.

But before Elliot could move, he heard it. A sound he would never forget—the unmistakable, guttural growl of something that wasn't human.

Max came barreling around the corner, bloodied but alive, dragging himself toward the door.

"Dad, the woman—she's—she's not—" Elliot's words caught in his throat. He couldn't explain it. No one would understand.

His father didn't wait. He grabbed Elliot by the arm and pulled him inside, slamming the door shut.

"Stay here," he said, his voice tense, like he was holding something back.

Elliot barely registered the words. He could still hear it outside—the growl, the scratching at the door. He backed away from the window, heart racing.

Max was trembling, but he was alive.

The sound outside grew louder, and then... silence.

It wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Elliot's world had just changed, and there was no going back.