Footsteps approached cautiously from the dark corridor. Three figures appeared in the doorway of the lecture hall, staying well back from the phosphorescent silver blood stains that marred the floor.
An older woman with graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses stood in the lead. Behind her was a young man with dark hair and heavy oil stains on his shirt, and a blonde woman who clutched a medical kit to her chest as if it were a shield. They stared at the remains of the creature I had just crushed with a gravity rewrite.
"You killed it," the older woman said, her voice filled with a mixture of wonder and profound relief. "That thing has been hunting us through the upper floors for hours."
"What was it?" the young man asked, his voice cracking. "Because that sure as hell was not like the others we have seen."
I looked at Aurora, then back at the three strangers who might be our only allies in this transformed world. I could still feel the phantom hum of the system in my veins.
"We think it was an evolved form," I said, my voice sounding more clinical than I felt. "The zombies are not staying the same. They are getting stronger. They are adapting to the environment."
The older woman stepped forward and extended her hand, though she kept her distance from the cooling silver gore. "Dr. Sarah Mills, Professor of Military History. And if what you are saying is true, then we need to move fast. In my experience, once the scouts change, the main force is not far behind."
The lecture hall felt different with six people in it. It was not just the obvious things like the extra voices and the collective sound of breathing that made the space feel alive. It was something deeper. For the first time since the moon opened its eye, we were not just two individuals fleeing through the dark. We were a group. We were a cell of resistance.
Dr. Mills took charge with the quiet, practiced authority of someone used to managing academic chaos and studying tactical maneuvers. Within thirty minutes, she had assigned watch rotations and established basic protocols. She made a room full of overturned desks feel like a defensible position.
"First priority is intelligence," she said, spreading a hand-drawn map of the building across an intact desk. "We cannot fight what we cannot see. We need to know what is moving in the shadows."
Marcus, the engineering student with the stained shirt, nodded as he adjusted a tablet he had successfully rigged to a bypassed node in the building's security system. "I have limited camera access. Most of the feeds are dark, but I can see the main corridors on the lower levels."
"What is the pattern?" Aurora asked. She settled beside me, her sword dismissed but ready to be summoned in a heartbeat.
"They are not moving randomly anymore," Marcus replied. He pulled up a grainy, low-frame-rate video on the tablet. "Look at this."
The screen showed a corridor on the second floor. Three basic zombies moved through the frame, but they were not shambling aimlessly. They walked in a loose formation, checking doorways with a mechanical, systematic focus.
"They are searching," Lisa observed. She had cleaned the blood from her hands but kept her medical supplies within easy reach. "It is like they know someone is still hiding here."
I leaned forward to study the footage. The way they moved reminded me of a search algorithm. "Can you show us the other areas?"
Marcus switched the feeds. It was the same pattern everywhere. Groups of three or four zombies were moving with purpose through different wings of the building.
"How many do you think are currently inside?" Dr. Mills asked.
"It is hard to say. Maybe forty or fifty. But watch this." Marcus pulled up footage from earlier in the morning. The basic zombies in that recording were wandering randomly and bumping into walls. "This was eight hours ago. They were mindless. Now, they are coordinated. They are aware."
"They are learning," Aurora said quietly.
"Or they are being controlled by a central node," Dr. Mills added. "The question is whether that intelligence is internal or if something else is pulling the strings."
I thought about the evolved zombie we had killed. It had studied us. It had tested the door. If that kind of intelligence was spreading through the entire population of the transformed, then the human era was truly over.
"We need supplies," I said, forcing my mind back to the immediate variables. "Water, food, and medical equipment. We cannot stay in this room indefinitely."
Lisa held up her small medical kit. "This will not last if anyone gets seriously injured. And Dr. Mills needs proper antibiotics for that bite on her arm."
Mills unconsciously touched the bandage on her forearm. The skin around it was already starting to look pale. "The cafeteria should still have food. The nurse's office in the east wing should have the medical supplies we need."
"I will go," Aurora said immediately.
"Not alone," Dr. Mills replied. "Standard tactical doctrine requires a minimum of two people for any scouting operation. You need someone to watch your back while you are scavenging."
Aurora looked at me. "Nate?"
"I am in."
Marcus stood up as well. "I should go too. If we are hitting the cafeteria area, I can check the main electrical panel in the basement annex. I might be able to get more of the building's systems online."
"A three-person team then," Dr. Mills decided. "Lisa and I will maintain the base, monitor the communications we have left, and keep watch."
I gathered my flashlight and the basic tools we had scavenged. Aurora's sword shimmered into existence for a brief second to check the edge before she dissolved it back into the system.
"How long should we give you?" Dr. Mills asked.
"Two hours," Aurora replied. "If we are not back by then, assume the worst and move the base."
The hallways outside the lecture hall felt different in the growing darkness. The emergency lighting cast everything in a dim, arterial red, turning the familiar academic spaces into something alien. We moved with agonizing care. Aurora took point, Marcus was in the middle, and I covered the rear. Every sound in the building seemed amplified. The hum of the air conditioning felt like a growl, and the settling of the foundation sounded like footsteps.
"Cafeteria first," Aurora whispered. "It is the closest target."
We reached the first-floor cafeteria without a direct confrontation. The space was a graveyard of overturned tables and scattered trays. The smell of stale food was overwhelming, but the service area was mostly intact.
"Jackpot," Marcus muttered. He began loading his backpack with bottled water and packaged energy bars. "This should last the six of us for at least a few days."
Aurora kept watch at the double doors while I helped Marcus gather supplies. We grabbed canned goods and anything non-perishable that could fit in our packs.
"The nurse's office is two floors up," I said. "We should move while the halls are still—"
Aurora held up a hand. Footsteps were approaching in the corridor outside. They were multiple sets, moving in a rhythmic, heavy cadence. We froze. The footsteps passed by the cafeteria doors without stopping, but the coordinated nature of the movement sent chills down my spine. It was a patrol.
We waited several minutes before moving again. The nurse's office yielded more than I had hoped for. We found antibiotics, clean bandages, antiseptic, and even a few basic surgical instruments.
"Dr. Mills will be happy," Marcus said, stuffing the last of the gauze into his pack.
On our way back, we detoured through the maintenance area so Marcus could check the electrical systems. The room was filled with humming transformers and blinking status lights. Marcus went to work immediately, pulling out his tools and testing the connections with the focus of a true engineer.
"How do you know all this?" I asked, watching him work.
"I am an engineering student, Nate. Plus, my dad is an electrician. I grew up around high-voltage panels."
While Marcus worked, I noticed a radio setup in the corner. it was much more sophisticated than the ones in the security office. I powered it up, and static immediately filled the air. I tuned the dial, and fragments of voices began to emerge.
"—requesting immediate evacuation from sector twelve—"
"—negative, sector twelve is overrun. All units fall back to checkpoint bravo—"
"They are losing," Aurora said quietly as she leaned over my shoulder.
"—creatures showing enhanced capabilities since eighteen hundred hours—standard ammunition is ineffective against armored variants—requesting heavy weapons authorization—"
The transmission cut to a series of screams, followed by the terrifying sound of rending metal and then static. Marcus looked up from the electrical panel, his face pale. "That does not sound like a winning war."
Before I could respond, the building's lights suddenly blazed to full, blinding brightness.
"Got it!" Marcus announced, a brief grin breaking through his exhaustion. "The main power is back online."
But the celebration was short-lived. With the return of the power came a sound that made my blood freeze in my veins. It was a howling. It was not human, and it was not quite animal. It was a sound of communal hunger coming from every direction at once.
Then, without warning, a massive blue screen materialized in front of all three of us. The notification was larger and more vibrant than any we had seen before. It pulsed with an urgent, rhythmic energy that seemed to vibrate in the air.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: LUNAR SURGE DETECTED]
[ALL INFECTED ENTITIES WILL EXPERIENCE TEMPORARY ENHANCEMENT]
[DURATION: 30 MINUTES]
[EFFECT: +1 EVOLUTIONARY TIER]
[SURVIVE]
Aurora's sword flared into existence, glowing with a fierce light. "What the hell is that?"
"It is a global event," I said, staring at the floating text. "The system is forcing an evolution."
Through the maintenance room's small window, I saw movement in the courtyard below. Zombies were emerging from every building on campus, but they were no longer the creatures we knew. They were larger. They were faster.
One of the creatures looked up at our window. Its body was wrong. It was elongated, with extra limbs growing from its torso like the branches of a dead tree. It moved with a spider-like grace, testing the brick wall with its multiple hands. More emerged behind it. Some had developed thick, armored plates of bone over their chests. Others moved with a predatory stealth that made them vanish into the shadows even under the bright lights.
A countdown timer appeared in the corner of our vision, ticking down in synchronization with our heartbeats.
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