Chapter 3: The Church
The church sat on a corner in East LA, surrounded by chain-link fence and dying grass. Yellow police tape cordoned off the entrance. Three cruisers parked haphazardly near the curb, lights off. A small crowd of onlookers gathered across the street, held back by a young officer who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
I parked two blocks away and walked over, hands in my pockets, just another curious bystander.
"What happened?" I asked the woman next to me, an elderly Latina clutching a rosary.
"Something terrible." She crossed herself. "They say a woman attacked people. Biting, scratching. Like an animal."
"Drug addict?"
"Maybe. Or possessed." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Father Gonzalez tried to help her. She nearly killed him."
A stretcher emerged from the church, EMTs wheeling it fast toward a waiting ambulance. The figure strapped to it thrashed weakly, restrained by multiple belts. Even from here, I could see the blood soaking through the sheet.
Not Gloria. Someone she'd bitten.
The woman beside me gasped. "Dios mío."
I moved closer, trying to see through the church doors. The young cop noticed.
"Step back, sir. This is an active crime scene."
"I'm a medical resident." I pulled out my hospital ID, kept my voice calm and professional. "If you need assistance—"
"We've got paramedics. Step back."
I retreated, but not before catching a glimpse through the open doors. Blood splattered across the floor. Scratch marks on the walls. And movement in the shadows—something shuffling, jerking, wrong.
Gloria. Still inside. Still dangerous.
The cop moved to close the door, but another officer called him away. In that moment, I saw her clearly.
She stood in the hallway, swaying slightly, dress torn and bloody. Her face was gray, eyes milky. A chunk of flesh missing from her neck where something had bitten her before she turned. She opened her mouth, and a low moan echoed through the corridor.
Then she lunged toward the door.
The cops shouted. One drew his weapon. The crowd screamed and scattered. I stayed frozen, watching.
Gloria moved like a puppet with tangled strings—jerky, uncoordinated, but fast. The first cop swung his baton. It caught her in the shoulder, barely slowing her momentum. She crashed into him, teeth snapping at his throat.
The second cop fired.
The gunshot cracked through the air. Gloria's head snapped back, and she collapsed.
Finally. It's over.
Except it wasn't.
She started moving again ten seconds later. Slower, damaged, but still moving. Crawling across the blood-slicked floor toward the nearest officer.
"What the fuck—" The cop fired again. And again. Center mass shots that should have dropped anyone.
Gloria kept coming.
I turned and walked away fast, pulse hammering. Behind me, more shots. More screaming. The crowd was running now, panic spreading like wildfire.
[ INFECTION DETECTED: OUTBREAK PATTERN ALPHA ]
[ TIMER: 52:43:17 ]
I got to my car and just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, breathing through my nose.
It was real. All of it. The System, the virus, the walking dead. Everything I'd watched on television was happening right now, and I was trapped in the middle of it.
My phone buzzed. A news alert: Multiple casualties reported at East LA church. Police advise residents to stay indoors.
Then another alert: Violent assault reported at Los Angeles General Hospital. Patient attacked staff before being restrained.
Then another: Disturbance at county morgue. Details unknown.*
It was spreading. Faster than the show had portrayed. Gloria wasn't the only one. She'd bitten people before the cops arrived, and now those people were turning, and they were biting others, and—
My phone rang.
Unknown number. I stared at it for three rings before answering.
Heavy breathing on the other end. Then: "You were there. At the church. I saw you."
The voice was male, young, ragged with fear and withdrawal.
Nick Clark.
"Who is this?"
"You were there," he repeated. "You saw her. You saw Gloria."
I closed my eyes. "Yeah. I saw."
"She was dead. She was dead and she was moving. She was—" His voice broke. "I'm not crazy. I'm not high. This is real."
"I know."
Silence. Then: "How did you get my number?"
"I'm a medical resident. I pulled some strings." A lie, but close enough. "Where are you?"
"Hospital. They're keeping me for observation. Car hit me when I ran from the church." A bitter laugh. "They think I'm psychotic. They think the heroin made me see things."
"You're not psychotic."
"Then what the fuck was that?"
I considered my words carefully. The System had warned against revealing too much, but Nick had already seen the truth. He just needed someone to believe him.
"Something bad. Something that's going to spread." I paused. "Listen, Nick. Whatever the doctors tell you, whatever your family says—you weren't hallucinating. That woman was dead and walking, and it's going to happen to more people."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm a doctor, and I've seen the early cases." Another lie, layered with truth. "The hospital's going to get worse. You need to get out as soon as they discharge you."
"They're not discharging me. They want psych eval."
"Then play along. Act calm. Tell them you were seeing things, you're sorry, it won't happen again. Get them to release you, then call your family."
"And tell them what?"
"Tell them to prepare. Food, water, first aid. Tell them to stay inside."
More silence. Then: "Who are you?"
"Someone who believes you." I pulled a pen from the glovebox, scrawled a number on a gas receipt. "I'm going to text you my number. When you get out, call me. I can help your family."
"Why?"
"Because I've seen what's coming, and good people are going to die if they're not ready."
I hung up before he could ask more questions, then sent a text to his number: Jax. Medical resident. Call me when you're out. Stay safe.
[ QUEST UPDATE: MAKE CONTACT WITH THE CLARK FAMILY - PROGRESS 1/4 ]
The text appeared and faded. I sat in my car, watching the church through the rearview mirror. More police arrived. An ambulance screamed past. Somewhere in that building, Gloria's body was being contained—or trying to be contained.
This was it. The beginning of the end.
I drove to the hospital where Nick was being held. Not my hospital—a smaller facility across town. I parked in visitor parking and went inside, keeping my hospital ID visible.
The night shift was in full chaos. Patients yelling. Nurses running. A security guard wrestling with someone in a hallway. I walked past it all, following signs to the observation ward.
Nick was in room 312, alone, strapped to the bed. Not violent restraints, just precautionary. He looked small and scared, curled on his side, staring at the wall.
I knocked on the doorframe. He didn't turn.
"Nick Clark?"
"Fuck off." His voice was hoarse. "I already talked to three doctors."
"I'm not here to evaluate you." I stepped inside, closed the door partway. "I'm the one who called you."
That got his attention. He rolled over, eyes bloodshot and suspicious. "Prove it."
I pulled out my phone, showed him the text I'd sent. He stared at it, then at me.
"You really saw her? Gloria?"
"Yeah. I saw."
"And you believe me? You don't think I'm crazy?"
"I think you're the sanest person in this hospital right now." I pulled up a chair, sat down. "Everyone else is pretending everything's normal. You're the only one facing reality."
His eyes welled up. He looked away fast, swiping at his face. "My mom thinks I'm using again. My sister thinks I'm having a breakdown. Travis wants me in rehab."
"They'll believe you soon enough." I leaned forward, keeping my voice low. "Nick, listen carefully. What happened at that church is going to happen everywhere. Within days, maybe hours. The police can't stop it. The hospitals can't treat it. Everyone who gets bitten turns, and everyone they bite turns, and it spreads exponentially."
"You're talking about a zombie apocalypse." He said it flatly, like he was testing the words.
"Yeah. I am."
He laughed, high and broken. "Jesus Christ. This is insane."
"You saw Gloria. You saw her move after she died. Is it really that insane?"
He fell quiet, thinking. Then: "What do we do?"
"You get your family to safety. I'll help however I can."
"Why?" His eyes searched my face. "You don't know us. Why help?"
"Because your family's going to need someone who knows what's coming." I stood, moved toward the door. "And because I need people I can trust when this all falls apart."
"Trust." He said it like a foreign word. "You're asking me to trust a stranger who tracked down my hospital room in the middle of the night."
"I'm asking you to trust someone who believes you when no one else will."
I left before he could respond, walking back through the chaos. A woman was screaming in the ER. Security was containing another patient. The system was already breaking.
Outside, dawn was breaking over Los Angeles. Pink and gold sky, beautiful and oblivious. Somewhere out there, the Clark family was waking up. Madison making breakfast. Alicia getting ready for school. Travis probably already at the Clark house, playing family with a woman who wasn't his wife anymore.
And Nick, trapped in that hospital room, was the only one who knew the truth.
My phone buzzed. Text from Nick: If this is real, my family needs to know.
I typed back: Get discharged first. Then we talk. All of you.
Another buzz, immediate: OK. But if you're fucking with me, I will find you.
I smiled despite everything. Fair.
I drove to my storage unit and checked my supplies. Two guns. Ammunition. Medical kit. Water. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But it was a foundation.
[ TIMER: 48:19:42 ]
Two days until I needed to infect someone. Two days until my control slipped and the virus took over.
I had targets in mind—gangs in East LA, dealers I'd encountered during hospital shifts. People who wouldn't be missed. People who probably deserved what was coming.
Dexter logic, I thought. Kill the guilty to stay sane.
But the timer didn't care about guilt or innocence. It just counted down, relentless and cold.
I locked the storage unit and drove home. The sun was fully up now. Los Angeles waking up to its last normal day. Traffic building on the highways. People heading to work, to school, to breakfast meetings. All of them unaware that the world was already over.
I climbed the stairs to my apartment, unlocked the door, and collapsed on the couch.
Sleep wouldn't come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Gloria's milky stare. Heard the gunshots that didn't stop her. Felt the countdown in my bones.
My phone buzzed again.
Nick: They're releasing me this afternoon. My mom's picking me up. Can you meet us at my house tonight?
Me: Address?
He sent it. Same house I'd been watching all week.
Me: I'll be there. 7 PM.
Nick: Don't be late. And don't make me regret this.
I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling. Tonight, I'd meet the Clarks. Tonight, the alliance would begin.
And somewhere in this city, Gloria's victims were turning. The infection was spreading. The end was here.
[ TIMER: 47:52:18 ]
[ QUEST: MAKE CONTACT WITH THE CLARK FAMILY - PROGRESS 2/4 ]
I closed my eyes and tried to rest. In a few hours, everything would change.
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