Life continues at Sanctuary in the shadow of Rohan's death. Beneath the routine, grief and secrets fester—Ahmed explains the virus's evolution to Taj, Nisha finally breaks in Samir's arms, and Karan finds a moment of light in darkness. Meanwhile, somewhere in the ruins, Reyan and Meera are running for their lives.
Morning came whether anyone wanted it or not.
The generators kicked on at dawn. Same sound they made every day. Steady hum. Mechanical. Reliable.
People woke. Some from sleep. Some from staring at ceilings all night.
The cafeteria filled slowly. People shuffling in. Getting food. Sitting in the same spots they always did.
Like nothing had changed.
Advait stood at his window. Looking out at the cemetery.
He did this every morning now. Counted graves. Remembered names.
His mind kept doing this. Counting wrong. Forgetting. Remembering. Breaking.
He pressed his forehead against the glass. Cool. Real. Grounding.
"You should eat something," Nisha said from the doorway.
"Not hungry."
"You haven't eaten."
"I know."
She didn't push it. Just stood there. Waiting.
"I'm going to check the food," Advait said finally. "Then the perimeter. Then supplies inventory."
"We're low. On everything."
"I know."
"We need a run. A big one. Far out. Multiple locations."
Advait closed his eyes. "Send your best team."
"Advait—"
"Send them." His voice was flat. "We need supplies. So send people who won't fall apart. Who won't hesitate. Who'll do what needs doing."
Nisha was quiet. "You sure?"
"Yes. Send Reyan, Meera and manish and one or two experienced ones. Range out past the normal zones. Find what we need."
"Okay." She moved to leave. Stopped. "You going to be alright?"
"No. But that's not new."
She left.
Advait stood at the window a moment longer. Then grabbed his jacket. Headed outside.
The cemetery was quiet.
Advait walked the rows. Reading. Remembering.
Dr. Sinha. Shot while helping a soldier.
The nineteen-year-old girl from the kitchen. Half her face gone.
Prakash. Twenty-three. Killed by poison.
All of them. Everyone. Dead.
He reached the end of the rows. Where the newest graves sat.
Fresh dirt. Rocks arranged carefully.
Rohan Malhotra. Twelve years old.
No dates. Nobody knew his birthday. Nobody had thought to ask while he was alive.
Advait knelt. Touched the rocks.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For what it's worth. I'm sorry."
The grave didn't answer.
He stood. Looked back toward the facility. Toward the gate.
Fifty meters. That's how far Rohan had made it. From the shelter to the gate. Fifty meters of hope before the bullets.
Advait stood on the spot. Looked back. Then at the gate.
So close. He'd been so close.
"Sir?"
Advait turned. One of the guards. Looking concerned.
"You alright?"
"Fine. Just checking the perimeter."
The guard nodded. Didn't believe him. But didn't push.
Advait walked to the gate. Looked out at the ruins. At the city that had eaten itself.
He turned. Walked back inside.
The lab smelled like chemicals and old coffee.
Taj sat at a desk. Staring at slides. Not really seeing them.
He'd been here since dawn that is when he put his glasses out after sun rise. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't think. Just came here because it was familiar.
Ahmed walked in. Looked surprised to see him.
"You're here early."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Yeah." Ahmed set down his bag. "Me neither."
They worked in silence for a while. Taj organizing samples. Ahmed reviewing notes.
Finally Taj spoke. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Are we safe? My group. The people I came with."
Ahmed looked up. "Why wouldn't you be?"
"Because of what happened. To that kid. Rohan." Taj's voice was quiet. "If Advait can do that to a child, what's to stop him from—"
"That was different."
"How?"
"It just was." Ahmed set down his pen. "Look. I know what happened was... it was tragic. It was wrong. But it's not going to happen to you. To your group."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're following the rules. You're contributing. You're not a threat."
"Rohan wasn't a threat. He was twelve."
Ahmed flinched. "I know. But Advait saw him as one. As a liability. As—" He stopped. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done."
"But what if he sees us as a threat? What if one of us breaks a rule? What if—"
"Then don't break the rules." Ahmed's voice was firm. "That's all you can do. Follow the rules. Stay useful. Stay alive."
Taj was quiet for a long moment. "You've been here longer than us. You know how this place works."
"I know enough."
"Then tell me. Honestly. Are we safe?"
Ahmed looked at him. At this kid who reminded him of himself. Curious. Smart. Scared.
"Yes," Ahmed lied. "You're safe. As long as you follow the rules."
Taj nodded. Believed him. Went back to his work.
Ahmed watched him for a moment. Feeling the weight of another lie. Another secret.
This place was built on them now.
"Hey Ahmed?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I see the vial? The infection sample?"
"Why?"
"I want to understand it. How it works. How it spreads. How it..." Taj gestured vaguely. "How it makes them into what they are."
Ahmed thought about it. Then nodded. "Alright. Come here."
He pulled out a secure container. Inside, a vial. Cloudy liquid. Innocuous looking.
"This is it," Ahmed said. "The original compound. From the lab where it started."
Taj leaned in. Studying it. "What does it do? Exactly?"
"It rewrites neural pathways. Changes how the brain processes information. Removes inhibitions. Amplifies aggression."
Ahmed picked up the vial carefully.
"It was never meant to do this. It was meant to heal."
His voice dropped.
"It was created for people who couldn't walk. People trapped in their own bodies. It was supposed to repair damaged nerves... help them move again."
He paused, jaw tightening.
"The first patient—Ravi—he couldn't walk. Not for years. Then he took this..."
His grip tightened around the vial.
"And everything fell apart."
"And the different types? The Shamblers, Runners, Stalkers?"
"Mutations. The virus adapts. Evolves. Some people's brains resist longer. Process it differently. That creates variations."
"And the Gazers?"
Ahmed set the vial down. "Those are the interesting ones."
"Why?"
"Because they're not just physical mutations. They're psychological." Ahmed pulled out his notes. "Look at this. Every Gazer encounter we've documented shows the same pattern. Direct eye contact. Hallucinations. The victim sees what they desperately want or need."
"How?"
"I think the virus hijacks the visual cortex. Uses it to access memories. Emotions. Then projects them back as hallucinations." Ahmed traced a diagram. "It's like... imagine your brain's a computer. The virus hacks in through your eyes. Accesses your files. Your deepest desires. Your biggest fears. Then plays them on your screen."
"But why?"
"Survival. The virus needs hosts. What better way to catch prey than to show them what they want most? Their family. Their friends. Safety. Hope." Ahmed's voice went quiet. "They follow the hallucination. Right into danger. Right into the infected."
Taj stared at the notes. "That's horrifying."
"It's evolution. The virus is getting smarter. Finding new ways to spread. To hunt. To survive."
"Can we stop it?"
"No. Not really. We can avoid it. Protect ourselves with the glasses after sunset. Schedule runs during daylight when they can't operate. But stop it? Cure it?" Ahmed shook his head. "That would require resources we don't have. Equipment we'll never get. Time we'll never have."
"So we just... live with it?"
"We adapt to it. Same as they adapt to us." Ahmed looked at the vial. "It's a race now. Who adapts faster. Survives longer."
"And who's winning?"
"Nobody. Everyone's losing. Just at different speeds."
Taj absorbed this. Looked at the vial again. At the thing that had ended the world.
"How did it start?" he asked quietly. "The outbreak. How did it get out?"
Ahmed's face went carefully blank. "Lab accident. Someone got careless. The virus spread. By the time anyone realized, it was too late."
It was close enough to the truth. Close enough to be believed.
Close enough to hide his guilt.
"Thank you," Taj said. "For explaining. For trusting me with this."
"You're smart. You deserve to understand." Ahmed turned away. "Now get back to work. Those slides won't analyze themselves."
Taj smiled slightly. Went back to his desk.
Ahmed stood there. Looking at the vial. At the thing he'd created. At the end of the world sitting in a small glass container.
And wondered if Taj would still trust him if he knew the truth.
Probably not.
Nobody would.
The cafeteria was mostly empty.
Lunch wasn't for another hour. Just a few people scattered at tables. Reading. Thinking. Existing.
Samir sat alone. Picking at leftover breakfast. Not eating. Just moving food around.
He was supposed to leave on the supply run in an hour. Should be preparing. Checking gear. Getting ready.
Instead he was here. Thinking about his sister. About how she'd changed. About how he'd lost her even after finding her.
"This seat taken?"
He looked up. Nisha stood there. Tray in hand. Looking tired.
"It's all yours."
She sat. Didn't eat either. Just stared at her food.
They sat in silence.
"You okay?" Samir asked finally.
"Fine."
"You're staring at your food like it insulted you."
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"Nothing. Everything. I don't know." She blinked. Shook her head. "Sorry. I'm just tired."
"When's the last time you slept?"
"I don't remember." She rubbed her face. "What day is it?"
"Thursday. I think. Maybe Friday. Hard to keep track."
"Yeah."
More silence.
"Remember when we were kids?" Samir said. "You used to do this thing where you'd just stare at nothing. Mom would wave her hand in front of your face and you wouldn't even notice."
Nisha almost smiled. "You'd throw things at me. Tried to snap me out of it."
"You'd get so mad."
"You threw a shoe once."
"It was a slipper."
"It was a shoe."
"Pretty sure it was a slipper."
"Nope. Definitely a shoe. Hit me right in the head." She touched her forehead. "I had a bruise for a week."
"You're making that up."
"Am not. Ask Mom." Nisha stopped. Realized. "Oh. Right."
The smile faded. Reality crashing back.
"Sorry," Samir said quietly.
"It's fine. Just... forgot for a second. That she's gone. That it's all gone."
"I do that too. Start to tell you something. Reach for my phone. Remember there's no phones anymore. No messages. No calls. Just..." He gestured vaguely. "This."
Nisha nodded. Understood.
They sat quietly.
Then Samir noticed. Nisha's hand was shaking. Subtle. But there.
"Nisha?"
She didn't respond. Just stared at her tray. Eyes unfocused.
"Hey. Nisha."
Nothing.
He waved his hand in front of her face. Like when they were kids.
She blinked. Snapped back. "What?"
"You zoned out."
"Oh. Sorry. I was just—" She stopped. "I don't know what I was doing."
"Thinking?"
"Maybe. Or trying not to think. Hard to tell anymore."
Samir watched her. Really looked. She had dark circles under her eyes. Her hands kept shaking. Her jaw was clenched tight.
"Nisha. Talk to me."
"About what?"
"About whatever's breaking you."
"Nothing's breaking me."
"You're shaking. You haven't slept. You just zoned out mid-conversation." He leaned forward. "I'm your brother. I know when something's wrong."
"I'm fine—"
"You're not. And that's okay. But don't lie to me."
She looked at him. Her eyes were wet. Not crying. Just... full.
"I can't," she whispered.
"Can't what?"
"Can't talk about it. Can't let it out. If I do, I'll fall apart. And I can't fall apart. Not now. Not when people need me."
"People need you healthy. Need you whole. Can't be that if you're breaking."
"I'm not breaking—"
"Yes you are. I can see it." Samir's voice was gentle. "Let it out. Whatever it is. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
Nisha stared at him for a long moment.
Then something inside her cracked.
Her face crumpled. She tried to stop it. Couldn't.
"I hate it," she said. Voice breaking. "I hate what happened. I hate that it had to happen. I hate that I agreed to it. I hate—"
She stopped. Covered her face with her hands.
Samir moved around the table. Sat beside her. "It's okay—"
"It's not okay!" Her voice rose. Then dropped. Aware of people nearby. "It's not okay. It'll never be okay. What we did. What I helped him do."
"What are you talking about?"
She looked at him. Tears streaming now. "The boy. Rohan. Advait didn't want to do it. He was breaking. He was ready to let him in. But I pushed him. I convinced him. I made him see the threat. Made him pull that trigger."
Samir went still. "Nisha—"
"I killed that kid as much as the guards did. More, maybe. Because Advait would've caved. Would've let him in. If I hadn't pushed. If I hadn't convinced him." She was sobbing now. Quietly. Trying to hold it together. Failing. "And I told myself it was necessary. That it was for the greater good. That it kept everyone safe. But it was just a kid. He was just a scared kid. And I helped kill him."
"You were following rules—"
"FUCK THE RULES!" She caught herself. Lowered her voice. "The rules are wrong. The system is wrong. This whole place is wrong. But I keep enforcing it because what else is there?"
Samir didn't know what to say. What to do.
So he just wrapped his arms around her.
She collapsed into him. Sobbing. Shaking. All the strength she'd been holding onto just... gone.
"I don't know how to be this person," she whispered into his shoulder. "This person who makes these choices. Who does these things. I don't know how."
"You don't have to—"
"Yes I do. Advait's breaking. Someone has to hold this together. Someone has to make the hard calls. Be the strong one." She pulled back. Looked at him. "But I'm not strong. I'm just pretending. And I don't know how much longer I can keep pretending."
"Then stop."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because if I stop, if I break, if I let go..." She wiped her face. "Then this whole thing falls apart. And people die. And it's all for nothing."
Samir held her tighter. "You're not alone in this. I'm here. We all are."
"Are you?" She looked up at him. "Because yesterday you barely spoke to me. Looked at me like you didn't know me. Like I was a stranger."
"You scared me. The way you've changed. The way you talk. Like you're someone else."
"I am someone else. The old me died. The girl you knew. She's gone. This is all that's left."
"No." Samir cupped her face. Made her look at him. "She's still in there. I see her. Right now. In this moment. She's still in there."
"Then she's buried deep. Under a lot of terrible things."
"Doesn't matter how deep. She's there. And I'm not giving up on her."
Nisha's face crumpled again. Fresh tears.
"I missed you," she sobbed. "I missed you so much. I thought you were dead. I thought I'd never see you again. And then you showed up. And I couldn't—I couldn't let myself feel it. Because if I did, I'd break. And I couldn't afford to break."
"So break now. With me. Where it's safe."
"Nothing's safe anymore."
"Then at least you're not alone."
She buried her face in his shoulder. Cried. Really cried. The kind of crying that came from somewhere deep. From a place she'd been keeping locked.
Samir held her. His sister. The person he'd crossed a city to find. The person who'd become a stranger. The person who was still, somehow, still his sister underneath it all.
They sat there for a long time. People walking past. Pretending not to notice. Giving them space.
Finally, Nisha pulled back. Wiped her face. Tried to compose herself.
"I'm a mess," she said.
"You're human."
"I'm not sure there's a difference anymore."
"There is. Being human means breaking sometimes. Means crying. Means letting it out."
"And then what? I put myself back together and keep going?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
She laughed. Wet. Broken. "That's it? That's your advice?"
"I'm an engineer, not a therapist."
"You're a terrible engineer. You barely finished your degree."
"Hey, I finished."
"With a 2.1 GPA."
"Still counts."
She smiled. Actually smiled. Small. But real.
"There she is," Samir said quietly.
"Who?"
"My sister. The one who used to make fun of my grades."
"Yeah, well. Someone had to keep your ego in check."
"My ego was fine."
"Your ego was massive. Still is."
They sat quietly for a moment.
"Thank you," Nisha said finally.
"For what?"
"For being here. For not giving up on me. For..." She trailed off. "For being my brother."
"Always. Even when you're terrifying."
"I'm not terrifying."
"You're a little terrifying."
"Just a little?"
"Okay, a lot terrifying."
She laughed again. Leaned against him. "I should go. Supply runners are leaving soon. I need to prep."
"Be careful out there."
"Always am."
"Nisha?"
"Yeah?"
"You're not a monster. Whatever you think. Whatever you've done. You're not."
She didn't respond. Just stood. Squeezed his shoulder. Left.
Samir sat there. Alone. Thinking about his sister. About what she'd said. About the boy who'd died.
About how survival turned everyone into something they didn't recognize.
He hoped she was wrong. Hoped the old her was still in there. Still fighting.
But he wasn't sure anymore.
Wasn't sure about anything.
Karan woke late.
Hadn't slept. Just laid there all night. Staring. Thinking. Remembering Rohan's face.
Finally gave up. Got dressed. Headed to the cafeteria.
It was afternoon now. Between lunch and dinner. A few people scattered around.
He grabbed coffee. Sat at an empty table. Alone.
"Mind if I sit?"
Ravi. Looking concerned.
"It's a free country."
"Is it?" Ravi sat anyway. "Haven't noticed."
Karan didn't respond. Just sipped his coffee. It was terrible. Always was.
"You look like hell," Ravi said.
"Thanks."
"I'm serious. When's the last time you slept?"
"I don't remember."
"Ate?"
"This morning. Maybe. I don't know."
Ravi studied him. "You're taking this hard."
"A kid died. Yeah, I'm taking it hard."
"It's not your fault."
"Isn't it? I'm the one who stopped the truck. I'm the one who saved him and his father. I'm the one who brought them here." Karan set down his cup. "If I'd just kept driving, he'd still be alive."
"He'd be dead somewhere else. Or infected. Or starving."
"At least he'd have had a chance."
"He had a chance here too. Advait just decided he wasn't worth the risk."
Karan's jaw tightened. "Don't say his name."
"Why not?"
"Because I'll do something I regret."
"Like what? Kill him?" Ravi leaned forward. "Come on. We both know you're not going to do that."
"Don't be so sure."
"I am sure. Because killing him doesn't bring the kid back. Doesn't change anything. Just makes you a murderer too."
Karan looked at him. "When did you get so wise?"
"I'm old. We're automatically wise." Ravi smiled. "Or we're supposed to be. I might just be full of shit."
Despite everything, Karan almost smiled.
"There," Ravi said. "See? You're still human."
"Barely."
"Barely's enough. In this world, barely's a win."
They sat quietly.
"Want to hear a joke?" Ravi asked.
"Not really."
"Too bad. What did the zombie say to the other zombie at dinner?"
"I don't know."
"Want to grab a bite?" Ravi grinned.
Karan stared at him. "That's terrible."
"I know. But you're not scowling anymore, so it worked."
"I'm still scowling."
"Less than before."
Arjun appeared. Carrying a plate. Set it in front of Karan.
"What's this?" Karan asked.
"Cake. I made it this morning."
"Where'd you get ingredients for cake?"
"Don't ask questions. Just eat."
Karan looked at the cake. Small. Slightly lopsided. But real.
"I can't remember the last time I had cake," he said quietly.
"Then eat. Before I change my mind and take it back."
Karan picked up a fork. Took a bite.
It was terrible. Dry. Barely sweet. Made with god knows what substitutes.
It was the best thing he'd tasted in weeks.
"Good?" Arjun asked.
"It's awful."
"But you're smiling."
Karan realized he was. Just slightly. "Yeah. I am."
"Good." Arjun sat down. "Someone needs to. This place is too damn depressing."
They sat together. The three of them. Eating terrible cake. Not talking about the dead. Just existing.
For a moment, it felt almost normal.
Then footsteps.
Advait approached. Looking hesitant.
Karan's smile disappeared.
"Mind if I join?" Advait asked.
"Yes," Karan said.
"I'll just be a minute."
"I said yes, I mind."
"Karan—"
"I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. I want you to leave me alone."
Advait didn't leave. Just stood there. "I know you're angry—"
"Angry? I'm not angry. I'm furious. I'm disgusted. I'm—" Karan stopped. Took a breath. "You killed a kid. A twelve-year-old kid. And I can't forgive that."
"I'm not asking for forgiveness."
"Then what are you asking for?"
"Understanding. Or at least... I don't know. A chance to explain."
"There's nothing to explain. You saw a threat. You eliminated it. That's what you do."
"It's not that simple—"
"It's exactly that simple." Karan stood. "You're the leader. You make the hard calls. You protect the many by sacrificing the few. I get it. I was military. I understand the logic."
"Then why—"
"Because logic doesn't make it right!" Karan's voice rose. "Because there's a difference between hard choices and murder! Because that kid begged! He begged to come inside! And you shot him anyway!"
The cafeteria had gone silent. Everyone watching.
Advait's face was pale. "I know. I know what I did. I know how it looks. But I was trying to protect—"
"Protect who? Us? Yourself? Your precious rules?" Karan stepped closer. "That kid died for your rules. Died because you were too scared to make an exception. Too paranoid to show mercy."
"If I'd let him in—"
"He'd be alive. That's what would've happened. He'd be alive." Karan's voice cracked. "And maybe he would've been a problem later. Maybe he would've broken a rule. Maybe he would've been a threat. But maybe not. Maybe he would've just been a kid. A survivor. One more person in this place."
"I couldn't take that risk—"
"So you killed him instead. Shot him down like a dog." Karan turned away. "Get out of my sight. Before I do something we'll both regret."
Advait stood there. Looking broken. Lost.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Your sorry doesn't mean shit."
Advait nodded. Started to leave.
Then small footsteps.
A little girl appeared. Seven years old. Reyan's daughter. Clutching her rabbit.
She walked right up to the table. Sat down next to Karan.
"Hi," she said.
Karan looked at her. At this child. Innocent. Untouched by the darkness around her.
"Hi," he managed.
"Why are you sad?"
"I'm not—" He stopped. Couldn't lie to her. "I'm just having a bad day."
"Oh." She swung her legs. "I have those sometimes. Mama used to say bad days happen. But good days come too."
"Your mama sounds smart."
"She was. She's gone now."
"I'm sorry." He stared at him.
"It's okay. Papa says she's safe. Somewhere better." She looked at him. "Do you think that's true?"
Karan's throat tightened. "Yeah. I think it's true."
"Me too." She smiled. Held out her rabbit. "This is Mr. Floppy. He makes me feel better when I'm sad. Do you want to hold him?"
"I'm okay—"
"Please? He's really good at making people happy."
Karan took the rabbit. Soft. Worn. Loved.
"Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome. Papa says we should help people when they're sad. Make them smile. Because smiles are important."
Despite everything, Karan smiled. Just a little. "Your papa's right."
"I know. He's smart like Mama." She took back the rabbit. "Feel better?"
"Yeah. A little."
"Good." She hopped down. "Bye!"
She ran off. Leaving Karan sitting there. Holding onto that small moment of light.
Advait was still standing there. Watching.
"She's a good kid," Advait said quietly.
"Yeah."
"Reyan's doing a good job. Protecting her. Keeping her innocent."
"For now."
"Yeah. For now." Advait paused. "I should go."
"Wait."
Advait stopped.
Karan didn't look at him. "I still hate you. For what you did. What you are. But..." He stopped. "But that kid just made me smile. First time in days. And I realized. If I hold onto this hate. This anger. I become like you. Someone who can't see past threats. Who can't show mercy."
"I don't expect—"
"Let me finish." Karan finally looked at him. "I won't forgive you. Probably never will. But I won't kill you either. Won't let this destroy me. Because that's what you did wrong. You let fear destroy your humanity. And I won't make that mistake."
Advait nodded slowly. "Thank you. For that much, at least."
"Don't thank me. Just... stay away from me. For a while. Until I can look at you without seeing that kid's face."
"Okay."
Advait turned. Started walking away.
"Advait?"
He looked back.
"Do better," Karan said quietly. "Next time. When someone needs help. When someone's begging. Do better."
"I'll try."
"Try harder."
Advait left.
Karan sat back down. The cake was still there. Half-eaten. He picked up his fork. Took another bite.
Ravi and Arjun were watching him.
"You okay?" Ravi asked.
"No. But I will be. Eventually."
They sat together. Three survivors. Eating terrible cake. Trying to hold onto whatever humanity they had left.
Outside, Advait walked the corridors. Alone. Carrying the weight of everything he'd done. Everything he'd become.
He passed Reyan's daughter's room. Saw her inside. Playing with her rabbit. Smiling.
At least she was safe. At least she was still innocent.
That had to be enough.
It had to be.
Somewhere in the ruins of Niraya, far from Sanctuary, three people ran.
Reyan Meera and Keshav
They were covered in blood. Not theirs. Infected blood. Splattered across their clothes. Their faces. Their hands.
Behind them, the sound of groaning. Shambling. Running.
Too many. Way too many.
"Keep going!" Meera gasped. "Don't stop!"
They ran through an alley. Over debris. Past abandoned cars.
Reyan's lungs were burning. Legs screaming. But he kept moving.
Because stopping meant dying.
So the three of them ran.
And ran.
And ran.