Ben froze. The voice had been soft, uncertain, but unmistakably human.
His heart hammered louder than the silence that followed.
"...Hello?" he whispered back.
From the shadowed hallway, footsteps approached. Steady, careful. Then she emerged.
A young woman—tall, lean, her dark hair tied back, her clothes a patchwork of scavenged gear. A knife hung at her side, but what caught Ben's eye was the way she carried herself: calm, wary, like someone who'd been surviving in this nightmare far longer than he could imagine.
Her gaze flicked from Ben, to the corpse at his feet, then back to him.
"You killed that?" she asked flatly.
Ben swallowed hard. "I… I had to. It was going to—"
"I'm not judging." She crouched near the body, her eyes narrowing as if studying the crushed skull. "That kind of force… doesn't come from someone half-starved in a hospital gown."
Ben flinched. "What are you talking about?"
She stood, brushing dust from her gloves, her expression unreadable. "What's your name?"
"...Ben."
"Lena," she replied simply, then stepped past him, scanning the ruined chamber like she owned it. "You shouldn't be alive. Not here, not like this. Which means…" Her eyes lingered on him again. "There's something different about you."
Ben's stomach twisted. He thought of the scientist. The drug. The promise. When you wake, the world will be saved.
"Different how?" he asked.
Lena gave a small, almost amused smile. "That's what I intend to find out."
Before Ben could answer, a noise echoed from deeper in the facility—a chorus of guttural snarls. More of them.
Lena drew her knife, her eyes flashing toward him. "Time to see if what I suspect about you is true. Stay close, Ben… and don't hold back."
Ben tightened his grip on the pipe, fear and confusion twisting inside him. He didn't understand what she meant—
But something deep in his blood stirred, a restless heat, like a beast straining against its cage.