By the time Aurora left Ridgeway Hall, the sky was painted with a gentle golden hue. The kind of sunset that made people sigh and say things like "What a beautiful evening."
But Aurora knew better.
It was the kind of sky that came right before the storm.
She stood beside the parking lot, heels clicking as she walked to her car. Each step echoed like a countdown in her mind.
Six days.
And the world would bleed.
She opened the car door and slid inside, but she didn't start the engine. Instead, she just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, her breath coming slow, controlled.
Then she laughed.
Quiet at first. Then bitter. Sharp.
Serah had looked like she'd seen a ghost. Caleb had clenched his jaw so hard his cheek twitched. Her mother had whispered something to an aunt, pretending it wasn't panic in her eyes.
Good.
Let them squirm. Let them wonder.
Aurora wasn't a girl anymore.
She was a fuse, lit and burning.
---
She didn't go home.
Instead, she drove. Her phone lit up with missed calls and messages, but she ignored them.
> Mom: You embarrassed Serah. What were you thinking?
Caleb: Let's talk. You look… different.
Serah: Please don't ruin this for me. I didn't want things to happen like that.
Pathetic.
They were already trying to spin their lies again.
She tossed the phone on the passenger seat and pressed harder on the gas.
She had an address to visit.
An old warehouse, once used as a storage unit for outdoor gear and emergency supplies. It had shut down a year before she died. But in her past life, she'd heard whispers that some survivalist groups had raided it early in the chaos—hauling away medicine, gear, weapons.
She'd never gotten there in time.
But now?
She had the gift of foresight.
And she was done wasting it.
---
The warehouse stood like a sleeping beast on the edge of the city. Faded walls, rusted locks, and silence.
Too quiet.
Aurora parked a few feet away and stepped out. Her boots crunched on gravel. She held a flashlight in one hand and a folding knife—one of her recent purchases—in the other.
She approached the side entrance. The lock was still there.
A twist. A snap. The bolt gave way like paper.
She slipped inside.
It smelled of dust and mold. Rows of metal shelves stretched into darkness, casting long, skeletal shadows.
Her light swept the room slowly.
Canned goods. A few water containers. Bags of rice stacked like bricks. Tools. Rope. Even a small generator.
Jackpot.
She'd need to come back with a van. No way she could carry it all now. But she could grab the essentials first—flashlights, batteries, first-aid kits, knives,—
Crunch.
She froze.
That wasn't her.
The sound had come from the far end of the warehouse.
A soft, wet dragging sound followed. Like something heavy being pulled across the floor.
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
Too early.
The outbreak wasn't supposed to begin until tomorrow morning—the first infected appeared in a hospital downtown. The infected didn't spread until after the initial carriers died and reanimated. She knew the timeline.
So why…?
Then she heard it.
Breathing.
But not human.
Raspy. Erratic. Wet.
She turned slowly, flashlight trembling in her hand.
A figure emerged from the darkness.
It used to be a man. Maybe.
Now? His flesh was bloated, gray-green, parts of his skin sloughing off like rotting fruit. His eyes were milky white, and his jaw hung open in a silent groan.
But he didn't run.
He just… watched her. Head tilted.
Aurora didn't move.
"...You're early," she whispered.
Then he screeched.
And charged.
---
Her body moved on instinct.
She ducked behind a shelf, breath ragged. The infected slammed into the metal, snarling, arms flailing wildly.
Her knife trembled in her hand. Useless. That thing wouldn't die from a cut.
She spotted a crowbar on the ground nearby. Her heart pounded as she lunged for it.
The infected shrieked again and lunged—
She swung.
CRACK.
It hit his skull with a sickening crunch. He staggered.
Again.
CRACK.
Bone gave way.
Blood—thick and dark—splattered her cheek.
The infected crumpled at her feet, twitching once, then going still.
Aurora stood there, chest heaving.
Her arms shook. Her legs felt like jelly. But she didn't fall.
Instead, she looked down at the body. At the mess she'd made.
And smiled.
Just a little.
"Guess I'm early, too," she muttered.
---
She dragged the corpse outside with gloved hands, dumped it behind a trash heap, and wiped her face clean with a cloth she kept in her bag.
The wind was colder now.
Or maybe it was just her.
She opened her phone and checked the system again.
> [Kill Count: 1]
[Perk Unlocked: Adrenal Surge — Temporary strength boost for 3 minutes when in high stress.]
[Evolution Progress: 2%]
She stared at the screen, then slowly, carefully, smiled.
Her future self had died helpless. Broken. Screaming.
But this version of her?
She was already leveling up.
---
That night, she didn't go back to her old home.
She booked a cheap motel under a fake name. Slept with a knife under her pillow. Set an alarm for 5:00 a.m.
Tomorrow, Unity Hospital would make the headlines.
Tomorrow, the world would start dying.
But tonight?
Aurora slept with her windows locked and the scent of blood still in her hair.
Tomorrow, she begins the hunt