Tanya

  I woke up covered in sweat, the bedsheets tangled around me in a mess, much like my own disjointed thoughts. The reflection in the bathroom mirror was still unfamiliar—too soft, too strange, too different. It hit me like a blow every damn morning. The reality of my situation was constant, nagging, twisting itself deeper into my brain. I didn’t belong here. Not like this. Not in this body. Not with this life. Yet here I was. I took a breath, steadying myself, trying to ground myself.

  This has become my morning routine.

  After a quick shower, I dressed quickly—black slacks, a fitted blouse, the uniform of someone in charge, someone respected. I forced myself through the motions. The weight of my badge settled uneasily on my chest, another reminder.

  Stepping out of my apartment, I put on my professional face, the one that everyone expected of me. It was just another day, right? A routine shift, the usual patrols, the same police station—although now I was just a shadow. A shadow who was trying to survive, and that meant pretending.

  The drive to the station was quiet. I could feel the shift in me, how every thought felt like a jagged edge scraping against my mind. The fear of being discovered, of the officers around me seeing through my fa?ade. My body moved on autopilot, but inside, I was falling apart piece by piece.

  The station felt strangely… normal. Too normal. I walked through the hallways, the usual mix of coworkers busy with paperwork and small talk, oblivious to the storm brewing in my head, let alone the storm brewing in this city. I had always been good at keeping things under wraps, but I felt every word scrape against my soul as I exchanged pleasantries with fellow officers.

  "Hey, Tanya, you ready to go?"

  I looked up to see my patrol partner for the day—Officer Jenny Simmons. Jenny had been with the department for a few years now—blunt, tough, but approachable. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, a few stray strands falling across her forehead, but it was the vigilant look in her eyes that caught my attention—the way she always seemed to be watching, assessing.

  "Yep," I said, trying to sound casual, though the unease in my voice was probably obvious. I forced a smile, the act of it more exhausting than it should’ve been.

  Jenny raised an eyebrow but didn't press. “You’ve been kinda off since you got back. You doing okay?”

  I nodded stiffly. “I’m fine. Just… tired, you know?”

  She shrugged, as if that was an answer she could understand, and gave me a knowing look. "Alright, let’s hit it. Got a whole route to cover today."

  The usual small talk followed as we hopped into her patrol car, but my mind wasn’t on our route—it was somewhere else entirely. The mirror on the dashboard caught my reflection briefly, and my stomach turned. It was like a constant cruel joke—this new body, this new life, everything is too unfamiliar, too wrong. My mind still wouldn’t let me adjust. I want to tear it all off and escape.

  But I couldn’t.

  The streets were quiet. Too quiet for what’s happening behind the scenes. The filled sidewalks, the cars driving by, nothing out of the ordinary. For a while, I was able to zone out, letting Jenny do most of the talking. She talked about her weekend plans, the crazy shift last night, and the usual banter I had learned to tune out. But underneath it, I could feel the weight of my own thoughts growing heavier with every minute.

  It wasn’t until we reached a quieter neighborhood that things started to spiral. Jenny noticed first. “You’re really off today.”

  I forced myself to focus, nodding slowly as I felt my fingers trembling. It wasn’t fear, I realized. It was dread. A constant knot of dread in my stomach that wouldn’t go away.

  “I’m fine. Just…” I swallowed hard, trailing off as I tried to focus on the road ahead, but it was getting harder to keep my composure.

  Jenny didn’t look convinced, but she kept quiet. The silence in the car grew heavier. We drove for a few more minutes, the air thick with the unsaid, tension rising like a pressure cooker.

  Shortly later, as we rounded a corner, a car swerved erratically ahead of us, clipping the curb before veering into a streetlamp. The sound of metal striking metal was sharp, followed by the sickening crunch of glass. I gripped the dashboard, my heart racing.

  “What the hell?”

  Jenny didn’t hesitate. She slammed on the brakes, bringing the patrol car to a stop as we watched the twisted wreckage. Without thinking, we both bolted out of the car, heading toward the scene.

  The driver had been thrown out of the vehicle, his body sprawled out in the street. His arms twitched unnaturally, as if he was struggling to pull himself back together. I exchanged a quick glance with Jenny.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Something isn't right here.

  “Stay here and call it in,” I told Jenny, approaching the man quickly but cautiously.

  Jenny started to call in the accident as I knelt by the driver. He was covered in blood from head to toe, but his yellow-looking eyes were wide open, glazed over, unfocused. “Hey, sir! Stay still, you’re hurt!” I ordered, but he didn’t respond.

  Instead, he began to push himself up with strange, jerky movements.

  I shot a glance at Jenny, and her voice crackled over the radio. “731 to dispatch—requesting medical—vehicle ejection.”

  The man was now sitting up. His legs were trembling, uncoordinated, but he was definitely moving. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and I instinctively took a step back.

  Something definitely isn't right.

  “Sir, you need to stay down! Help is on the way!” Jenny called out, her tone firm but cautious as she walked closer to us.

  The man suddenly lurched forward, his eyes fixed on Jenny now, completely unfocused. His mouth opened slightly, revealing bloodied teeth as he staggered closer. I took a step forward, my pulse quickening. “Jenny, get back!” I shouted.

  But it was too late.

  The man, now fully upright, lunged at Jenny with unnatural speed. She tried to react, but he was too close, too fast. I grabbed for my weapon, aiming to neutralize him before he could hurt her.

  But before I could pull the trigger, Jenny was already on the move, shoving the man off balance. He stumbled, but it didn’t slow him down. His eyes locked onto Jenny like he wasn’t even human anymore. I realized, with a sickening jolt, that this wasn’t an accident. This wasn’t just a drunk driver.

  Shit! He was infected!

  Jenny shoved him back once more, forcing him to the ground before she backed away from him. The man started to shake violently, his body jerking like a puppet with its strings pulled in erratic directions.

  “I’m calling this in!” Jenny yelled, pulling out her radio again, her voice suddenly shaken. “731, requesting additionals—now!”

  She backed further away from him slowly, her gun now in her hand. The man’s movements were no longer human, his ragged breathing shallow, his limbs twitching and jerking like he was being controlled by some unseen force.

  “Watch out!” I shouted at Jenny as the man staggered forward again.

  We fired at him.

  The shots landed with a sickening thud, each one echoing in my ears, sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins. His body jerked with the impact, but it didn’t stop him. He fell to the pavement with a sickening thud, and for a moment, I thought it was over.

  Then, I saw it.

  The twitch.

  The convulsion in his legs.

  I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I had seen enough horror films to know what that meant. No matter how many times we shot him, no matter how many times he fell, he wasn’t staying down. The virus was already in control.

  “Shit!” I shouted. “Jenny, back up!”

  But Jenny was already taking steps back, her gun raised. Her hand trembled slightly, but her gaze never wavered from the thing in front of us.

  He started to move again, slower this time, dragging his broken body across the ground. The blood had stopped pooling from his injuries, but his skin had already taken on an unnatural color—gray and lifeless. His eyes locked onto Jenny with terrifying focus.

  “Stay the hell down!” I yelled, but my voice felt hollow against the darkening reality of what we were facing.

  The man let out a guttural growl, more animal than human now. He pushed himself up with one last, violent jerk, his fingers scrabbling against the pavement like claws.

  This was it. This was the first of many, I realized.

  I didn’t even hesitate.

  I aimed for his head, my breath shallow and rapid. My finger squeezed the trigger, and the sound of the shot rang out like thunder throughout the street.

  His body went limp and finally stayed down.

  I took a slow, shaky breath, feeling the weight of what had just happened settle into the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know what the hell this was, but I knew it wasn’t an accident.

  Jenny picked up her radio again. “731 to dispatch. Shots fired—suspect down. ETA on additionals and medical?” Jenny’s voice came through, strong despite the fear I could hear lingering in her words.

  I didn’t hear anything in response as I holstered my weapon and took a step toward Jenny. We stood there, the harsh reality of the situation sinking in, and for the first time in a long while, I felt something close to fear creeping up my spine, overwhelming any other thoughts.

  The Suits

  The conference room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a projector casting a cold, bluish glow onto the large screen dominating the far wall. Three figures in black suits sat stiffly around the table, their expressions unreadable—professional masks honed over the years. A single camera captured their presence, transmitting the meeting to unseen figures beyond the screen.

  The video call connected. Three more figures appeared—each identified only by a title.

  On the screen, three names appeared under silhouetted avatars:

  Brigadier General

  Undersecretary of Homeland Security

  Director of BioGen Research.

  "Report." The voice of the Undersecretary was clipped and professional, a bureaucrat accustomed to quick and efficient briefings.

  The lead agent, a woman with sharp features and a no-nonsense demeanor, spoke first. “The situation has been contained to New York. The infected primate was terminated before further exposure. Cause of death remains unverified, but we are investigating. We’ve secured the body and erased any trace of the incident.”

  "What about this Henry Wu?" The Brigadier General’s tone was measured, but beneath it lay the weight of command—the expectation of results.

  The agent hesitated. “Wu remains at large.”

  A beat of silence.

  "Explain," the Undersecretary demanded.

  The second agent, an older man with a grizzled edge to his voice, took over. “As you know, the primate escaped due to negligence at BioGen’s New York facility. Specifically, negligence from Henry Wu. We’ve traced his initial movements—he abandoned his post the moment the subject escaped, fleeing towards the interstate. Not even his family has heard from him since that night. Seems he knew what would happen.”

  The shadowed figure representing the Director of BioGen spoke up animatedly. “That’s an assumption, not a fact.”

  "So," the Undersecretary exhaled sharply, "what you’re telling me is that the head scientist lost control of the asset, ran off, and now you don’t know where he is?"

  The third agent nodded. “Yes, sir. But with the securing of the primate’s body and the restricted nature of the incident, once we locate Wu, we can put an end to this.”

  The Brigadier General gave a grunt of approval. “Good. Find him. Wrap this up before it spreads.”

  The Director of BioGen finally spoke again, his tone even. “And if it already has?”

  The Undersecretary scoffed. “Nonsense. The incident is under control, and all related issues are actively being swept under the rug with the public none the wiser.”

  One of the agents shifted uncomfortably. “There have been… unconfirmed reports of similar symptoms outside of New York.”

  The Director’s voice hardened slightly. “That’s exactly why we need to take this seriously. I’ve read the preliminary reports on the autopsy. The evolving viral structure is—”

  “We don’t act on rumors,” the Undersecretary interrupted. “Until there’s concrete evidence, this remains an isolated event. You have your orders—locate Wu, secure any loose ends one way or another, and ensure the public hears nothing more about this.”

  The Brigadier General shifted, skepticism clear in his voice. “BioGen, anything else to add?”

  The Director let out a slow, measured breath. “Containment measures need to be on the table. I need access to your agents, and I’m telling you, this may be worse than you think. The virus—”

  “Enough! We’re not entertaining your paranoia,” the Undersecretary snapped. “This is a localized breach. Your scientist, your asset, your facility, your failure. Get ahead of it before it becomes more of a headache... Fine, use our agents if need be and get this under control.”

  The Director didn’t argue immediately. The faint tap of his fingers was the only sound of his agitation. “Then at the very least, authorize further testing. If we act now, we may still—”

  The Undersecretary cut him off with finality. “Just do your job, Director. That’s all you need to worry about.”

  The Director’s silence spoke volumes.

  The Undersecretary continued, "This isn’t a national security issue. It’s not a military operation. It’s a simple cleanup. So do your damn jobs. All of you."

  The screen flickered, and the call ended.

  The agents sat in awkward silence.

  “…What if the Director’s right?” the third agent muttered.

  The lead agent exhaled, shutting the laptop with a quiet click. “Then control was just an illusion from the start.”