Before the End


    “We interrupt your scheduled program to bring you breaking news from the ongoing conflicts in the Middle East.”


    “Reports are emerging of a catastrophic event that occurred moments ago. Though unconfirmed, early information suggests…” A sharp inhale came like a held breath before impact. “…that a tactical nuclear weapon has been deployed over Syria.”


    The announcer''s voice wavered, straining beneath the weight of his words as a hiss of static interrupted the pause.


    “After years of rising tensions, the situation had reached a boiling point. Russian officials have already issued a statement, reportedly supporting the use of nuclear force in the region.”


    “Initial footage depicts a devastation of an unprecedented scale. Casualty estimates…” The voice faltered, his hesitation louder than the static. “We''re are still waiting at this time for the first estimates.”


    Another crackle of static underscored the pause.


    “We’ll bring you updates as they emerge... In the meantime, we urge everyone to remain calm and monitor official channels for further developments. The president-elect is expected to issue an official statement later today as he continues his cross-country campaign, honouring victims of the recent outbreaks.”


    The announcer marked a solemn pause.


    “We are witnessing what may be a defining moment in human history—”


    The broadcast cut off, swallowed by a burst of interference.


    And nothing was ever the same.


    <hr>


    The world sometimes felt like it was on the brink of collapse. Too many people. Too many faces. All pushing forward with purpose — goals, friends, lovers, plans… A tide of humanity, each person locked in their orbit yet constantly colliding in the chaos. Enough to feel like drowning when you think about it.


    Were they as lost as he was? Or was he the only one gasping for air?


    The streets churned with motion, a flood of bodies surging in and out of shops with glittering displays. Each transaction was another drop in the endless current of agitation. The noise felt oppressive. Horns blaring. Children crying. Holiday jingles blaring overhead.


    Ants crawling around their anthill.


    “How about a bagel?”


    Her voice cut through the haze like a thread of sunlight, pulling him back. He blinked, startled, just in time to sidestep a man twice his size, intent on staying in his lane.


    “Yeah, that’s fine,” Alek said automatically.


    The words felt hollow the moment they left his lips, and he braced for her reaction. And so she cast him the same look he’d grown to expect — the one threaded with mild exasperation and something she never said aloud.


    “You never want to choose, do you?” Her tone was soft, but the reproach was unmistakable. And even though he had expected it, he couldn’t restrain the frustration swelling inside.


    “I said that’s fine.”


    “Whatever.”


    Her hand tightened on his arm, a brief squeeze that somehow carried all the weight of her disappointment.


    He hated how he couldn’t be the way she wanted. How he couldn’t just make a choice — any choice — without feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on his chest. Every decision felt like a trap, a minefield where every answer was wrong no matter which way he turned. Disappointment waiting to happen. And each time, she resented him a little more for it.


    She had never said so. Not directly. But he could feel it. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in how her grip lingered on his arm.


    And it stung — knowing he would never be enough.


    “We could walk through the park on our way there,” she suggested, testing the waters.


    “Sure, if you want.”


    Another mistake. She hated that sentence. Her face started displaying the signs a storm was brewing, the slightest hint of hatred. But as they neared the bus stop, crowded with people clutching shopping bags and chatting over the noise of the street, he got offered a distraction.


    “Hey, lovebirds!”


    The familiar voice cut through the noise, and Alek turned to see George weaving through the crowd, a grin splitting his face.


    “Hey there!” they replied in unison.


    “Have you seen the others?” she asked, the irritation in her tone now replaced with warmth.


    “They’re meeting us there. I’ll text them once we decide where we’re going.”


    George was about Alek’s height but broad-shouldered, filling the space like he belonged. He’d been Alek’s best friend since high school, their bond effortless and unshakeable. His mop of curly brown hair, gentle smile, and quick wit had cemented him as the easy-going friend of their duo.


    “What’s up?” Alek asked.


    “Nothing much, good sir,” George replied, his voice dipping into a playful tone. “I am doing fine, though perhaps a little under the weather.” His voice hitched with the faint rasp of an impending cold. “And yourself?”


    “We’re having a most pleasant day. Aren’t we?” Alek replied while glancing at the little dark-haired fury still holding his arm.


    “Oh, we are! I was just telling Alek we could go for bagels and walk through the park.”


    “That sounds perfect. It’s a good thing they lifted the lockdown for the holidays. We could all use some fresh air — and some not-so-fresh bread and salmon!” George replied — the way Alek should have. It was enough to make her laugh.


    How he loved that laugh.


    George pulled out his phone, thumbs flying across the screen as he fired off a message to the group before stepping confidently into the street.


    “HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!”


    The shout tore through the air, accompanied by the screech of tyres as a beaten-up sedan swerved around George. He had barely flinched, brushing off the near miss with a shrug. The less composed driver leaned on his horn, letting out a series of honks to emphasise his point.


    “What an ass,” she muttered, frowning as the car rolled forward and stopped at the red light just ahead.


    “Yup. Hope he burns in hell,” George replied, his usual humour tinged with an edge of annoyance. He turned back to them, his expression shifting into something more serious. “Speaking of fire… Did you hear about the guy they found in our dorms?”


    “The one who died?” Alek asked, his curiosity piqued. “Yeah, I heard some rumours. Why?”


    “I was there when they found him,” George said, lowering his voice. “The whole room was filled with this… yellow fog. It wasn’t just bad it was… wrong? Like something that shouldn’t exist.”


    “Oh shit,” she cut in. “What were you doing there?”


    “I was hanging around with—“


    There was a honk. A long, desperate honk. Then, a deafening crash swallowed George’s words, a thunderclap of twisted metal and shattered glass. Alek spun around to see the sedan crumple like a tin can beneath the force of an oncoming truck. Smoke billowed from the wreckage, the truck’s horn still blaring, mourning its victim.


    “Holy shit!”


    Her grip tightened on Alek’s arm, the crowd buzzing with a touch of fear mixed with awe.


    The sounds were strangely muted, muffled by the buildings and the crooked trees. But then the distant screams began — thin threads of panic that grew louder with each passing second, rushing toward them like a tide.


    “Let’s keep moving, I’m not liking this,” Alek muttered, the adrenaline kicking in. His gaze darted to George, who stood rooted in place, staring at the wreckage with his mouth slightly agape. The usual spark in his eyes was nowhere to be found.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    “I didn’t mean—”


    “Don’t worry about it, let’s get away from the crowd,” Alek cut in, trying to be comforting.


    He nudged George forward through the thickening flow of people. They passed a TV shop, the glow from a dozen screens spilling pale light over a growing cluster of onlookers. Faces hovered in the window’s reflection, slack with concern.


    A voice filtered through the crackling speakers:


    “The president-elect is expected to issue an official statement later today as he continues his cross-country campaign, honouring victims—”


    Alek felt the weight on his arm loosen. She had slowed, turning her attention to the screens. “Do you think…” she began, her voice quiet and uncertain.


    “I don’t know,” Alek interrupted, cutting her off before the thought could take form. He reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. “Let’s just go.”


    George coughed. “We should get to the park,” he said, waving them forward. “Up through Regent street.”


    Alek nodded but couldn’t shake the creeping dread clawing at his chest. The air pressed down on him, the sky darker despite the afternoon light.


    In the distance, another shout cut through the ambient noise.


    His steps faltered. Something was wrong.


    The first wave came, rippling through the air. It wasn’t the sound of a single voice but a collective wail that rose and swelled — not just heard but felt, vibrating in Alek’s bones.


    There was something utterly primal about hearing thousands of people scream in absolute fear. Your body could never forget something like this. It triggered a response ingrained in human genes. A reminder that humans were prey long before they became more. His body responded instinctively: a thunderous pulse, a quickening breath. Every nerve on edge.


    A moment later, the street erupted into chaos. Transformed into a battlefield. People darted in all directions, some clutching children to their chests, others stubbornly dragging their shopping bags.


    Another crash echoed from somewhere deeper in the city, followed by the shock wave of an explosion. The ground quivered beneath Alek’s feet, the vibrations climbing through his legs and into his gut.


    But despite everything, the screams… The screams persisted — a background noise the brain refused to ignore — despair made real. It gnawed at the senses, threatening to drag him with them.


    “What the hell is going on?” George shouted, his voice barely audible.


    Alek grabbed George’s arm and yanked him back just as a man sprinted past, wild-eyed and shoving through the crowd.


    On his other arm, she held on desperately, her nails digging into his sleeve as she tried to keep up. “Alek— there’s too many people!”


    They were met head-on by a wave of bodies, a human tide fleeing from something unseen. Alek tightened his grip on her and George, pulling them to the side of the street and pressing against the cool brick of a building to avoid being trampled. His chest heaved with the effort and the panic.


    In the madness, Alek’s gaze caught a staggering man. Both hands clutched his abdomen, where his shirt was soaked in a spreading stain. He fell to his knees, gasping for air as the crowd parted around him.


    Alek froze.


    His mind screamed to look away, to move. But his eyes were locked on the man.


    The stranger’s body convulsed, his head snapping back with a sickening crack. A guttural, inhuman sound tore from his throat, and Alek watched in horrified fascination.


    The man’s eyes shot open, now milky and unfocused, as his fingers clawed at the ground. His jaw opened wide, too wide, the skin straining and tendons taut. Like something inside him was trying to burst free.


    A shudder ran through Alek’s spine.


    “What are you doing?” her voice cut through the fog of his paralysis. “We need to get to safety!”


    “Run!” George bellowed, shoving them into motion. Alek’s feet stumbled into a desperate sprint as they plunged into the chaos. Behind them, the cries of the man grew fainter. But the dread clung to Alek, thick and suffocating.


    A feeling burned into his memory.


    <hr>


    The infected’s roar echoed in Alek’s mind — a phantom at the edges of his thoughts. No matter how much time passed, the heat of the panicked crowd and the sweat on his back wouldn’t fade. He could still hear his friend’s voice, urging them forward, drowned by the cacophony of screams. And the press of Sunlight’s grip as she clung to his arm.


    Back when she still trusted him with comfort.


    So much time had passed. So many memories had faded. But this one would stay forever.


    “What… what happened to them?”


    Alek blinked, his grip tightening around the rough edge of a stone brick. Victoria stood across from him, her face filled with curiosity. The faint glow of the sun was sinking further down towards the horizon, bathing them in orange light.


    “My friend was infected,” Alek whispered. “A few hours later, he — changed… I had to watch it happen. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make sure he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”


    “Jesus… I’m sorry.”


    “It was a long time ago.”


    The lie sat heavy on his tongue. Time didn’t matter; the guilt… he carried with him every day. Growing ever more each time he’d let someone down.


    “Why didn’t we get infected… down there?” she asked.


    Alek exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “What we stumbled upon, that was — different than what’s out here.” He shifted, resting his weight on one leg and pointing to his other, where the dog-like creatures had bitten him. “Infection comes through bites. It’s the quickest way to turn. Animals can become infected, but they can’t transmit it to us. And they often die quickly from the disease. Not like humans.”


    The crunch of their boots against crumbled asphalt filled the void between words. The bridge on which they walked stretched ahead, its arching frame a testament to a world once aspiring to endurance. Nature had now claimed much of it. Frosted vines curled along stone railings in a quiet rebellion against human ambition.


    Alek stopped walking and turned to her.


    “The… things we saw. They should have been dead long ago. We’re lucky the big one didn’t bite any of us.”


    He waved a hand and resumed his walk along the broken bridge. “Spores,” he said in an educational tone. “That’s the other way it spreads. In some places, you can’t breathe a single breath without a mask. That’s why we should find you one quickly.”


    Victoria’s eyes rested on him, her expression between anxiousness and interest.


    “Don’t worry,” Alek added. “I’ve got a spare in one of my other hideouts. That’s where we’re headed.”


    As they continued, their path was lined with echoes of those who had come long before. Beneath their feet, symbols and slogans adorned the brick. They were painted in frantic strokes of red, black, white and yellow. A scrawled phrase whispered, “We will not fade.” Below it, another proclaimed: “Shadows bring rot. Hide in the light.”


    He watched Victoria’s gaze linger on the graffiti, her brow knitting as the patterns began to coalesce. Alek noticed the hesitation but remained silent. He had no words to offer her, no comfort to bring.


    Instead, he wrestled with his own unease.


    It was hard to get used to his new vision. Any sense of perspective — of distance — was gone. Victoria’s shape shifted in his sight. Whether she walked right beside him or meters away, he couldn’t trust his eye. The disorientation would be a dreadful challenge.


    Out here, such a hindrance was a death sentence.


    “What about… her?”


    Alek’s thoughts were interrupted by Victoria’s voice.


    “What?”


    “Your girlfriend… What happened to her?” she repeated a flicker of hesitance in her eyes.


    “She’s a distant memory now… We parted ways a few months after that.”


    Victoria nodded and resumed her exploration of the symbols.


    He let out a slow breath, relieved that her curiosity had been sated.


    The paintings grew denser as they progressed. Some were fragments of warning signs. Others were filled with hope, etched when humanity’s flame still burned bright. They were twisted now into something sombre, their meanings warped by time.


    Alek stopped at the bridge’s crest, leaning slightly on the moss-slick railing as his gaze swept over the ravaged city below. Towers that once reached for the sky now sagged in shadows.


    Victoria joined him, her fingers brushing against the worn edge.


    “What was it like?” she asked. “Was it just… the end?”


    Alek hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line.


    “It wasn’t the end, no,” he said. “It was only the beginning. Fast, at first. A perfect combination of circumstances. But the end. The real one… that took years to fully take root. Years of torture.”


    Victoria’s expression tightened, but she let him continue.


    “This event I told you about. That was the spark that ignited the flame of chaos.”


    His gaze bore into hers. “Then there was mass hysteria. Shops were looted, and homes burned. So much chaos... People came to fear not just the dead but each other. That was the time mass suicides happened around the world. Families, neighbourhoods, cities...”


    He exhaled, his breath misting in the cold. “Martial law came next — a semblance of control. For a while, it worked. People stayed indoors, so the spread slowed down. Except in bigger cities… there, the situation grew out of control.” He scoffed. “ And so governments tried to control it. Some bombed their own cities or built walls to hide behind. Others sent aid that never came back. Nothing worked, as far as I know. Not anywhere.”


    “And if it wasn’t enough. Wars raged on. Until there were no longer people to fight the battles or the infected had become the bigger concern. Governments fell or crawled into hiding. Some places burned out in weeks. Engulfed by the shadows. Others… held on longer. Managed better. Some did pretty well, all things considered. But in the end…” He trailed off, shaking his head.


    “It’s been twenty long years,” he said, the weight of time settling into his voice. “I’m not sure there’s anything left anymore. Nothing but what you see here — a few survivors, death, and dust.”


    Victoria shivered before him, bringing her jacket tighter around her shoulders as she gazed at the wasteland. At that moment, she seemed so much smaller.


    Alek studied her, his chest tightening. She would need more than resolve to survive. He’d have to teach her as much as he could about this world. Teach her how to see the dangers before they found her and fight them when they did.


    They walked over to the next section of the bridge, where the crumbled brims revealed the abyss below.


    Some graffiti stood out from the others — the paint still vibrant. A crescent moon dripped as though it were bleeding. Beneath it, bold letters proclaimed in red:


    FOLLOW THE LIGHT OF THE CHILDREN


    Victoria stepped closer, pointing to it. “They’re not just graffiti artists, are they?”


    “No… These ones do little harm. But the other group of survivors…” he hesitated for a second. “Let’s just say that with the infected, you at least know what you’re dealing with.”


    Victoria’s gaze lifted from the bleeding red and washed over the cityscape. “Do you think they’re close?”


    His fingers curled tighter over the railing.“They’re always close.”


    The sun had sunk lower, a smouldering ember over the jagged skyline. And with it, shadows stretched across the ruined city, creeping into every cracked street.


    Time had slipped away faster than he’d realised.


    “Damn it,” he muttered, straightening abruptly.


    Victoria turned, catching the sudden tension in his voice. “What is it?”


    His eye locked westward, where the fading sunlight had already surrendered to an eerie dusk. Too soon. They should have been moving faster.


    And then it came.


    A distant boom rolled through the city. The bridge trembled beneath their feet; dust and loose stones spilt from its fractured edges. Victoria staggered, her hand shooting out to brace herself.


    “What the hell was that?” she demanded, terror flashing in her eyes.


    Before he could respond, another sound cut through the air — a low guttural chorus of screeches. He knew what it meant.


    The infected were waking.


    “Fuck,” Alek said urgently. He grabbed Victoria’s arm, pulling her away from the edge. “We’ve got to go. Now!”


    They turned and bolted, the dying light bathing the city in blood-red hues, and behind them, the haunting wails grew louder.


    The broken streets and empty facades blurred as they ran, and Alek’s remaining eye caught shadows darting inside the buildings. Spiralling down towards the streets. The wails of shadows trailed behind them like a sinister melody. One that was all too familiar.


    A melody of death and chaos.


    ***