Chapter 1: The Dusk
Nathaniel Robinson's life wasn't extraordinary, but it was his. At seventeen, his world revolved around basketball games, late-night study sessions that usually turned into video game marathons, and the comforting rhythm of a family that seemed unshakable. His older brother, Aaron, had just been accepted into med school, and their parents—high-school sweethearts still laughing at each other's old jokes—were the quiet backbone of their home. Mornings were rushed, evenings were warm, and the future felt distant but bright. Nathaniel went to high school like any other teen, surrounded by the same group of friends since they were toddlers, their biggest worries were graduation, crushes, and Friday's basketball game.
Monday through Friday, his mornings were always the same.The alarm went off at 6:45 a.m., though his mom always shouted up the stairs five minutes earlier just to be sure. The smell of coffee drifted from the kitchen, mixing with the faint scent of pancakes and bacon. His dad liked cooking breakfast before work, even if he only had time to eat half of it before rushing out the door to be the best real state agent he could be. His mom kissed him on the cheek every morning, always with the same words: "God bless you honey, love you."
His older brother, Aaron, was usually already gone by then. Between med school classes and volunteering at the hospital, Aaron lived on his own schedule. Still, they'd sometimes cross paths late at night, Nathaniel half-asleep with earbuds in, Aaron hunched over textbooks at the dining table. There was a quiet pride in the house about Aaron's future—a pride Nathaniel felt, too, though he'd never say it out loud.
School was… school. He walked the same hallways with the same group of friends, joking about the most stupid things, teasing each other, pretending they weren't all scared about the future. Nathan played basketball after class, sometimes for practice, sometimes just to blow off steam. He wasn't the star player, but he had a good shot and even better endurance.
Weekends were his favorite. Saturdays usually started late—sleeping in until 10, maybe noon if he'd been up gaming the night before. He'd help his dad mow the lawn, wash his mom's car, and then meet up with friends at the skate park or the gym. Sundays were family days: church in the morning, big lunch afterward, and lazy afternoons spent sprawled on the couch with Aaron arguing over which movie to watch.
But this particular Friday night was different.
One of his closest friends, Caleb, was throwing a late-night pool party at his uncle's house while the man was out of town. It wasn't huge—maybe twenty people—but it had all the ingredients of a night they'd remember for a long time. Warm summer air, music thumping low from a Bluetooth speaker, floating pool lights shimmering like fireflies, and the quiet thrill of being just young enough to feel invincible.
Nathaniel showed up around 10 p.m., still wearing his basketball hoodie and shorts, sneakers untied. He tossed his bag down near a lawn chair and immediately got pulled into a game of chicken fight in the pool. Someone brought pizza, someone else smuggled in a couple of six-packs, and for a few hours, it was nothing but laughter and summer heat.
And then there was her.Emma Hart, one of his oldest friends. They'd grown up together—elementary, middle, and now high school. Somewhere along the way, she'd become more than just "one of the group." She was sharp, funny, the kind of girl who could beat him at HORSE on a good day. Her dark hair was wet from the pool, slicked back, and the faint string lights reflected in her hazel eyes.
They ended up sitting on the pool's edge together, legs dangling in the water, talking about nothing and everything—college plans, dumb TikTok videos, the future they thought they had. She nudged his shoulder with hers when he made a joke. He splashed her when she tried to act cool. There was that electric silence between their laughter, the kind that felt louder than the music.
"Nate," she said softly, after a long pause. "You ever think about… just leaving all this? Like, taking a car and driving until the road runs out?"
He grinned. "Yeah. Every Monday morning."
She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. But there was something in her look—something unspoken but real. A warmth that wasn't just from the summer night.
They slipped out of the warm night air and into the kitchen, barefoot and dripping wet, leaving a trail of water across the tile. The music thumped faintly from outside, muffled by the closed glass door. The fridge's hum was louder in here, mixing with their laughter as Emma grabbed a kitchen towel from the counter and threw it at Nathaniel's chest.
Emma: "You're soaking everything, idiot."
Nathaniel: (catching the towel) "You're literally leaving puddles behind you."
Emma: "Yeah, but I look cute doing it.
"Nathaniel: (smirking) "Debatable."
She gasped dramatically and slapped his arm with the back of her wet hand, leaving a cold splash.
Emma: "Wow. You're lucky I don't drown you in Caleb's pool right now."
Nathaniel: "You tried last summer, remember? You almost broke my nose."
Emma: "That was self-defense. You splashed me first!"
Nathaniel: "You screamed like a pterodactyl!"
Emma: "And you ran like a little girl!"
They both burst out laughing, doubling over as Nathaniel opened the fridge. Inside were mostly sodas, a few beers, and some random leftover Chinese takeout. He grabbed two sodas and tossed one to her. She caught it effortlessly with one hand—of course she did.
Emma: "Impressive, right?" (she popped the can open with a grin)
Nathaniel: "I'm more surprised you didn't drop it and make a mess."
Emma: "I'm not Caleb."
As if on cue, Caleb's voice echoed from the backyard:
Caleb: "HEY! WHO GOT IN THE FUCKING HOUSE ALL WET?!?!
Nathaniel and Emma exchanged a look, then both yelled back in perfect sync:
Nathaniel & Emma: "FUCK OFF, CALEB!"
Their laughter filled the kitchen, louder than the music. She leaned against the counter, soda can in hand, her damp hair sticking to her shoulders. Nathaniel leaned opposite her, arms crossed casually, trying not to seem like he was looking at her too much—but he was.
Nathaniel: "You know, you're kind of scary when you yell."
Emma: "Good. Keeps you in line." (she took a sip, raising an eyebrow)Nathaniel: "Right, because I'm totally the one who needs discipline here."
Emma: "Obviously. You're chaos incarnate. You can't even shoot a free throw under pressure."
Nathaniel: (grinning) "Excuse me, I carried us last game."
Emma: "You carried us to overtime by missing that layup."Nathaniel: "I tripped!"
Emma: "On air."
She laughed, that contagious, slightly breathless laugh he loved. Her cheeks were flushed—not sure if it was from the heat, the soda, or him. He felt that weird pull again, that quiet moment between jokes where everything slowed down.
Nathaniel: "You always do that, you know."
Emma: (tilting her head) "Do what?"
Nathaniel: "Talk like you've got it all figured out."
Emma: (mock serious) "I do. I'm destined for greatness. You're just here to provide comedic relief."
Nathaniel: "Wow. Harsh."
Emma: "Don't worry, Nate. You're my favorite idiot."
She bumped his shoulder playfully as she walked past him to grab another towel, leaving him grinning like an idiot in her wake.
Nathaniel: "Yeah? Well… you're my favorite pain in the ass."
Emma: (without turning around, laughing) "I'll take it."
Outside, someone jumped into the pool with a loud splash, followed by more cheers. But in that kitchen, under the harsh light and the sound of soda cans hissing open, it felt like they were in their own little world—warm, close, and just on the edge of something neither of them had said out loud yet.
On the counter infront of them were many bottles and empty cups, Emma picks up a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka someone had hidden behind the orange juice. She held it up like she'd discovered treasure, her grin mischievous.
Emma: "Bingo. Found the good stuff."
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his soda.
Nathaniel: "Caleb's uncle is going to kill him."
Emma: "Please. Caleb's uncle probably left it here for us on purpose." (She twisted the cap open and gave it a playful sniff, immediately making a face.) "Ugh, smells like bad decisions."
Nathaniel: "Exactly. Put it back."
Emma: (ignoring him) "Or…" (she wiggled the bottle) "We make some bad decisions. Come on, Nate. Live a little."
She leaned against the counter, eyebrow raised, the challenge clear in her eyes. The kind of look that dared him to step just an inch outside his comfort zone.
Nathaniel shook his head, laughing.
Nathaniel: "Emma, you know my mom would kill me."
Emma: "She doesn't have to know."
Nathaniel: "No, seriously. She'd find out. She's like… CIA or something. She has mom radar. And then she'd kill you too just for being an accomplice."
Emma burst out laughing, almost dropping the bottle.
Emma: "She'd probably ground me and I don't even live with her."
Nathaniel: "Exactly. You'd be banned from my house forever. She'd put up a 'Wanted' poster on the fridge."
Emma: (mock gasp) "Oh no, not Mrs. Robinson's fridge… that's sacred ground."
She took a tiny sip straight from the bottle, scrunching up her face dramatically and coughing once.
Emma: "Okay, yeah, this is horrible." (she wiped her mouth, giggling) "But come on, just a little. One drink. For the memories."
Nathaniel: "For the funerals, you mean."
She rolled her eyes, setting the bottle on the counter between them.
Emma: "God, you're such a parent's dream. You know that, right?"
Nathaniel: (suspiciously) "What's that supposed to mean?"
Emma: (grinning) "You're that guy. The one everyone's parents actually trust. Like, 'Sure honey, you can go out—as long as Nathaniel's there.'" (She deepened her voice in a mock mom impression.) "'He's such a responsible young man.'"
Nathaniel groaned, covering his face with his hand.
Nathaniel: "Please stop."
Emma: "No, seriously! My mom literally said that last week. 'If Nathaniel's going, you're fine.'" (she laughed, pointing at him) "You're basically my golden ticket to freedom."
He dropped his hand, glaring at her with exaggerated offense.
Nathaniel: "Wow. I'm not even a friend. I'm a permission slip."
Emma: (laughing harder) "A very trustworthy permission slip."
Nathaniel tried to keep a straight face, but her laughter was contagious. He ended up laughing too, shaking his head. She leaned closer, eyes sparkling, clearly enjoying the fact that she was getting under his skin.
Nathaniel: "You're unbelievable."
Emma: "And you love it." (she smirked, brushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear)
There it was again—that quiet shift between them. The music outside faded into the background, the kitchen light reflecting off the puddles around their feet. For a split second, it felt like they were the only two people awake in the world.
Nathaniel: (softly) "Yeah… maybe I do."
She blinked, caught off guard by the way he said it—not teasing, not joking. Just honest. Her grin softened, lips curling into something more delicate. She didn't respond right away, but her eyes said enough.
Then Caleb's distant voice broke the moment like a rock through a window.
Caleb: "HEY! WHOEVER'S HOARDING THE DRINKS, BRING 'EM OUT OR I'M COMING IN THERE!"
Emma sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Emma: "Buzzkill."Nathaniel: "Saved by the idiot."
Emma: (laughing as she grabbed the sodas) "Let's go, Mr. Responsible."
They left the kitchen still laughing, shoulders brushing as they walked, both pretending that little spark hadn't just happened between them.
he night air had cooled a little, the summer heat dipping just enough to make the breeze against their damp skin feel good. Outside, the pool lights still shimmered lazily, and the crowd had thinned. Most people were either passed out on lawn chairs or dancing in slow circles to whatever song Caleb had thrown on next.
Nathaniel and Emma had drifted back outside, settling near the far end of the pool where it was quieter. They sat cross-legged on the warm concrete, facing each other, cans of soda between them, voices low. It wasn't even about what they were saying anymore. It was the rhythm of it—teasing, laughing, falling into silence, then starting again. Easy. Natural. Like they'd been having that same conversation for years.
Emma: "You know, if you keep staring at the stars like that, you're gonna trip over something."
Nathaniel: "If I trip, I'm blaming you. You're distracting."
Emma: (smirking) "That's not my fault. That's a you problem."
They both laughed, the kind of quiet laugh that made the moment feel just theirs. But out of the corner of Nathaniel's eye, he caught movement.
At the other end of the yard, by the patio lights, his idiot friends Matt and Diego were watching them. Matt noticed Nathaniel looking and immediately made a face—raising his eyebrows, puckering his lips dramatically, then miming a big exaggerated kiss in the air. Diego followed up by making an obscene gesture with his hands like they were middle schoolers again.
Nathaniel groaned.
Nathaniel: "Oh my God… I hate them."
Emma turned to look and burst out laughing, clutching her stomach when she saw Matt pretend to fan himself like a teenage girl at a boy band concert.
Emma: (laughing breathlessly) "They're so stupid."
Nathaniel: "They're gonna give me a stroke one of these days."
Emma: (teasing) "Aww, look at you blushing."
Nathaniel: "I'm not blushing."
Emma: "You are definitely blushing." (she leaned closer, squinting at him) "Look at those red ears."
Nathaniel: "Emma—stop." (he tried to cover his face but she gently pushed his hand away, laughing harder)
He tried to keep his cool, but she had that smile—that wide, radiant, trouble-making smile that made his stomach do something weird. The kind of smile that made the night feel infinite.
As the music died down and more people started gathering their things, Caleb began yelling about cleaning up tomorrow and locking the back gate. A few cars started pulling out of the driveway, headlights sweeping across the yard.
Emma looked up at Nathaniel, legs still crossed, damp hair falling around her face.
Emma: "You know… nights like this kinda make you forget there's a whole world waiting outside, huh?"
Nathaniel: (softly) "Yeah. They do."
They sat there a little longer. Neither of them moved. She picked at the label of her soda can. He watched the reflection of the pool lights in her eyes.
And then—
Matt: (calling from the front) "Yo, Nate! Come on, man, we gotta go!"
Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder. Matt was standing by his beat-up sedan, car keys dangling, waving at him like an impatient dad.
Nathaniel: "Five more minutes!"
Matt: "Nope. My mom's gonna kill me if I'm late again. Let's go, Romeo!"
Emma started laughing again, clearly enjoying every second of this.
Emma: (mocking) "Romeo, your carriage awaits."
Nathaniel groaned.
Nathaniel: "You're enjoying this way too much."
Emma: (innocent) "Me? Never."
Matt jogged over, clearly determined. He reached Nathaniel, grabbed him by the shoulder like a bouncer hauling someone out of a bar, and started pulling him back toward the car.
Matt: "Say goodnight, lover boy. The pumpkin's leaving."
Nathaniel: (digging his heels in jokingly) "Matt—stop—"
Emma: (calling out between laughs) "Bye, Nathaniel! Try not to cry on the way home!"
Nathaniel: "You're not funny!"Emma: (grinning) "Yeah, I am!"
Nathaniel came back to give Emma a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She said "Text me when you make it home." He responded while walking towards the car with "You too!"
Matt shoved him playfully into the passenger seat as Diego hooted from the back. Nathaniel leaned out the window as Matt started the car, and Emma waved lazily from the poolside, still smiling that warm, infuriating, unforgettable smile.
As they pulled away, Nathaniel sat back, wet hair still dripping, chest warm. He tried to wipe the stupid grin off his face, but it stayed.
He knew his friends would give him hell for it.But for once, he didn't care.
At first, it was just another story on the news.Something happening somewhere else. A strange flu outbreak overseas. Government briefings. Health experts in suits explaining infection curves and safety protocols while graphics of spreading red circles flashed behind them.
Nathaniel saw it over his mom's shoulder one morning while she sipped her coffee. She was scrolling through headlines on her tablet, brow furrowed.
"Looks bad," she muttered.His dad shrugged. "They'll get it under control. They always do."
And that was that.Life moved on.
But the headlines didn't stop. They multiplied. Every day, new cities. New countries. Hospitals overwhelmed. Travel restrictions. Rumors. Panic. Within weeks, the virus was no longer just "over there." It was everywhere.
Nathaniel started noticing it at school first. Subtle things. Hand sanitizer stations suddenly appeared near every door. Teachers wore masks. Students didn't huddle in crowded hallways the same way anymore. Coughs made everyone flinch.
And then, kids started disappearing from classrooms—not literally, but their desks sat empty.
Monday: Two kids gone.Tuesday: Four more.Wednesday: A third of the class missing.
Parents started pulling their kids out "just to be safe." By the second week, the cafeteria sounded different. No loud chatter. Just the scrape of trays and muted whispers.
Nathaniel sat at their usual lunch table, staring at all the empty seats around them. Emma slid her tray across from his, looking uneasy.
Emma: "It's weird, right?"Nathaniel: "Yeah."Emma: "My mom's been watching the news nonstop. She keeps saying this feels like the start of a movie."Nathaniel: (half-joking) "Yeah, the bad kind."
She gave a nervous laugh, but neither of them really found it funny.
At basketball practice, the team was down to eight players. Their coach tried to keep the energy up, but it was hard to ignore the empty bleachers and the parents pacing nervously outside the gym.
One morning, Nathaniel woke up to find his mom sitting in the kitchen with the TV on, face pale, hands wrapped around a mug she hadn't touched.
Mom: "They're saying it's airborne now. And… the hospitals here are starting to fill up."Nathaniel: "Wait—here? Like in town?"Mom: "Yeah. Winston-Salem. A few cases. Maybe more."
The air in the house changed that day. Less joking. More news updates. Aaron called from campus to say his med school classes had been suspended, and he was helping out at the hospital. His parents told him to come home. He refused—they needed people, he said. Nathaniel had never heard his dad yell at him until that phone call.
At school, the morning announcements shifted from football scores to health advisories. Teachers told them to wash their hands more. Assemblies were canceled. The spring dance got postponed "until further notice."
One afternoon, Emma leaned against his locker after class, twisting her hair nervously.
Emma: "My mom's pulling me out starting next week."Nathaniel: "Seriously?"Emma: "Yeah. She says it's not worth the risk." (she looked at him) "You should tell your parents to do the same."Nathaniel: "My mom's already talking about it."Emma: "Good. I don't wanna be the only one left here."
She tried to laugh, but her voice cracked just a little. He noticed.
By the third week, the hallways were half-empty. Some teachers didn't even bother showing up—they taught through grainy video calls projected on smartboards. Lockers stayed closed. Club meetings vanished. The sound of the school bell echoed strangely in the hollow halls.
The world hadn't fallen apart yet.But something was shifting.And everyone could feel it.
The clock on Nathaniel's nightstand blinked 1:43 a.m.The house was quiet, except for the low hum of the ceiling fan and the muffled sound of gunfire coming through his headset. His room was lit only by the glow of his monitor, casting pale blue shadows on the posters lining his walls.
He adjusted his mic and leaned forward, fingers flying across the controller.
The clock on Nathaniel's nightstand blinked 1:43 a.m.The house was quiet, except for the low hum of the ceiling fan and the muffled sound of gunfire coming through his headset. His room was lit only by the glow of his monitor, casting pale blue shadows on the posters lining his walls.
He adjusted his mic and leaned forward, fingers flying across the controller.
Matt: "Bro, you're blind. He was right behind the car!"Nathaniel: "I literally headshotted him, Matt, shut up."Diego: "Cap. I saw you whiff like five shots."Nathaniel: "Diego, you're dead. You don't get to talk."
They all laughed, and Nathaniel suddenly asked:
Nathaniel: "By the way, where da fuck is Caleb?"
Diego: "I dunno, he said 'five minutes' like… two hours ago."
Matt: "He probably went to jerk off and passed out halfway through."
They all burst out laughing again.
Then between matches, during the loading screen, the conversation shifted—like it always did lately.
Matt: "Yo… did you guys see the news tonight?"Diego: "About the hospitals?"Matt: "Yeah. My mom's freaking out. Says our town's next."Nathaniel: "Mine too. She already stocked up the pantry like we're going into hibernation."Diego: "Same. Bro, she bought, like, ten bags of rice. What are we, opening a restaurant?"
They all laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it. The kind you heard when people didn't quite know how serious to be.
Matt: "For real though, how long you think this is gonna last? A week? Two?"Diego: "Nah, it's gonna blow over. Everything always does. Remember that swine flu crap back in middle school?"Nathaniel: "Yeah, except this one's actually shutting schools down."Matt: "Yeah, cause people are dying, Nate. It's not like the other one."
The laughter faded. The loading screen music played softly in the background.
Diego: "Yo, but what if it's, like… not even a real virus?"Nathaniel: (groaning) "Here we go."Diego: "No seriously. Think about it. Government shuts everything down, keeps everyone inside, then boom—new world order, microchips in the vaccines, all that."Matt: (laughing) "Diego, shut the hell up."Diego: "I'm just saying! You ever notice how this started right after that meteor thing in China? I saw this video on TikTok—"Nathaniel: "Oh my god, Diego, stop watching TikTok conspiracy guys at 3 a.m."Diego: "They have sources, bro."Matt: "Yeah. Other crazy people."
They broke into laughter again, but it wasn't the same carefree kind as earlier. It was tired. Nervous. The kind that filled the silence they didn't want to sit in.
Nathaniel: "I dunno, man. Feels weird though, doesn't it? Like… it's not just the virus. It's everything. The empty halls. The way everyone's acting."Matt: "Yeah. I've never seen my mom this freaked out before. She canceled our trip next month and everything."Diego: "Dude, my dad won't even let me go outside unless it's to walk the dog. And he sprays the dog with sanitizer when we get back."Nathaniel: "...what?"Diego: "I'm not kidding, man. Poor Luna smells like lemons now."
They all cracked up at that, Matt wheezing into his mic, Diego pretending to be the dog.
But as the laughter faded and the next match started, Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, eyes half on the screen and half on the quiet darkness of his room.
For the first time, he caught himself wondering:What if this didn't blow over?What if this was the start of something bigger?
Outside, the neighborhood was silent. No cars. No planes. Just the soft hum of the summer night.And somewhere between the matches, the jokes, and the conspiracies, that silence started to feel heavier.
The next morning Nathaniel mom didnt send him to class, so he went down stairs to grab snacks for breakfast and found his brother doing the same thing, he was surprise bc they brely see each other, he talks abt Diego crazy conspiracy theories but oddly enough his brother didnt laugh with him, and he said that he was talking with one of his med teachers the other day and has talked to many doctors and all of them agree on something, things are not adding up, something weird is happening.
The next morning, Nathaniel woke up to soft light leaking through the blinds and the faint chirping of birds outside. Something felt… off.He blinked at his alarm clock. 8:42 a.m.The alarm hadn't gone off.
For a moment, panic shot through him—he was late. He threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed, pulling a shirt over his head as he rushed down the hall toward his parents' bedroom.
He knocked once, then pushed the door open a crack.Inside, the curtains were still drawn, and the room had that cool, still morning air. His dad was sprawled on his side, snoring softly. His mom was curled up with a silk eye mask on, blankets pulled up to her chin.
Nathaniel: "Uh… Mom? Dad? It's almost nine. Shouldn't I be at school?"
His mom shifted a little, not even lifting the eye mask.
Mom: (sleepy, muffled) "You're not going, honey."
And just like that, she was out again.Nathaniel stood in the doorway for a moment, confused, the weird quiet of the house sinking in. No rush. No chaos. No "get ready, you're late." Just… stillness.
He turned and walked slowly down the stairs, the steps creaking softly under his bare feet. The house felt different. The morning sunlight pouring through the kitchen windows seemed brighter than usual, almost harsh. The TV on the counter was playing the news at low volume, showing shaky footage of crowded hospitals overseas.
He opened the pantry to grab some cereal and nearly jumped when the fridge door shut behind him.
Standing there, holding a plate with cold pizza, was Aaron, his older brother. He looked half-awake, hair a mess, wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Nathaniel froze for a second—it was rare to see him at this hour.
Nathaniel: "Whoa. You're actually up in the morning. Am I dreaming?"Aaron: (grinning tiredly) "Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it. Classes are suspended, so you're stuck with me."
They both grabbed random breakfast snacks—Nathaniel with a cereal bar and juice, Aaron with his leftover pizza and a mug of black coffee—and ended up sitting at the counter, sunlight spilling across the table between them.
Nathaniel unwrapped his bar, smirking.
Nathaniel: "You know, last night Diego was on his conspiracy bullshit again. Said this whole virus thing is fake. Government plot. Microchips. The works." (he laughed) "Matt told him he's getting brainwashed by TikTok."
He expected Aaron to snort or roll his eyes. Instead, Aaron went quiet, stirring his coffee slowly, expression thoughtful.
Nathaniel: (raising a brow) "What?"Aaron: "I talked to one of my professors a couple of days ago. And a few doctors at the hospital." (he met Nathaniel's eyes) "They're all saying the same thing: something doesn't add up."
Nathaniel straightened in his chair.
Nathaniel: "Doesn't add up how?"Aaron: "The spread. The symptoms. The way the data's being reported. Everyone agrees—it doesn't feel like a normal outbreak. Something's… off."
The news anchor's voice droned softly in the background, listing new travel restrictions. The hum of the fridge filled the silence between them.
Aaron leaned back, rubbing his eyes. He looked exhausted—not just from lack of sleep, but from something heavier.
Aaron: "They're not saying anything officially, of course. No one wants mass panic. But behind the scenes? Every doctor I've talked to feels it. There's something weird going on."
Nathaniel forced a laugh, but it came out shaky.
Nathaniel: "Man… that's comforting. Thanks."
Aaron gave him a small, humorless smile.
Aaron: "Hey, you brought up Diego's theories. I'm just saying—sometimes the crazy stuff isn't that far off."
Nathaniel stared at him, cereal bar halfway to his mouth, suddenly not so hungry anymore.
For the first time since the pandemic started, he saw something new in his brother's eyes.Not confidence. Not reassurance.Worry.
And that unsettled him more than anything he'd heard on the news.
the TV suddenly shifted.The low droning of background news anchors was cut off, replaced by a single, clear voice. He glanced up.
Every channel had switched to the same emergency broadcast.
The screen was split between the anchor's serious expression and a bold red banner that read:
"BREAKING NEWS — VACCINE APPROVED. MANDATORY DISTRIBUTION BEGINS IMMEDIATELY."
Nathaniel froze.Aaron lowered his coffee mug slowly, his tired eyes narrowing at the screen.
The anchor's voice was calm, too calm, like she was reading off a carefully memorized script:
"After accelerated development and testing, the international task force has announced the successful creation of a vaccine for the ongoing global outbreak. Effective immediately, vaccination will be mandatory for all citizens. Distribution begins nationwide today, with mobile units and vaccination centers deployed to every region."
Nathaniel grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels. CNN. Fox. Local news. Even sports.All of them were airing the exact same broadcast.Same wording. Same banner. Same expression.
Nathaniel: "Dude… what the hell?"Aaron: (quietly) "That's… fast."
On screen, they showed footage of military trucks lined up outside big arenas, people in hazmat suits unloading coolers. Crowds were already gathering. The voiceover continued:
"Citizens are required to bring identification and report to their nearest distribution center when notified. Vaccinations will be conducted in phases, starting with major metropolitan areas and schools. Refusal to comply will result in penalties as determined by federal guidelines."
Nathaniel's stomach dropped.
Nathaniel: "Mandatory? Already? Didn't they, like… just find out what this thing even is?"
Aaron didn't answer right away. He stood slowly, walking closer to the TV like he could get answers by staring harder.
Aaron: "This doesn't make sense. Vaccine development takes months, sometimes years. Even accelerated trials shouldn't move this fast. Not unless…"
He stopped himself.Nathaniel noticed the way his brother's jaw clenched.
Nathaniel: "Not unless what?"Aaron: (low, uneasy) "Not unless they already had it."
The words hung in the air like a thundercloud.The anchor's voice carried on, now listing locations and schedules, scrolling in a ticker at the bottom of the screen. Schools, stadiums, community centers—all turned into vaccination sites.
Nathaniel's mom came down the stairs, still wearing her robe, pulling off her eye mask.
Mom: "What's going on? Why are all the channels the same?"
Aaron gestured toward the TV without looking away.
Aaron: "They're saying the vaccine's here. Mandatory starting today."
She stopped halfway down the stairs, confusion flickering across her face.
Mom: "Already? That's… fast."
Nathaniel looked at both of them, a cold feeling creeping into his gut. Just yesterday, everything was uncertain. And now, all at once, every network, every city, every person was being told to line up.
Nathaniel: (murmuring) "This is weird."
Outside, through the kitchen window, he could already hear the distant hum of cars and trucks, people moving around earlier than usual. Something was shifting—again.
The world wasn't panicking. Not yet.But it was changing, fast.
And deep down, Nathaniel felt it:Something about this didn't feel right.
For the next two days, no one talked about anything else.
At first, it was just the news, blasting from every TV, every phone, every hallway. But soon it took over group chats, lunch tables, gaming lobbies, everything.The vaccine.
Who was taking it.Who wasn't.Why.
Nathaniel's friends were split right down the middle.
Matt was planning to take it.
"I just wanna get this crap over with," he said over Discord, chewing chips into his mic. "If the vaccine means I can go back to school and hoop again, give me three shots."
Diego, on the other hand, was completely against it.
"Hell no. They're rushing this too fast. This is how zombie movies start, bro," he said during lunch one afternoon, waving his hands like a preacher. "You really think they 'found' a cure this fast? Nah, man. It's part of the plan. Population control. Or microchips. Or both."
Nathaniel laughed at first, but the more Diego talked, the more he started watching the same videos. Late at night, scrolling through his phone in the dark, he fell down the same rabbit holes Diego did—grainy footage of trucks moving at night, "whistleblowers" claiming it was all a cover-up, religious preachers yelling about end times.
he weird part was, his mom agreed.
She refused the vaccine almost immediately.
"I'm not letting anyone put that thing in me," she said at dinner, crossing her arms firmly. "This isn't right. It's too sudden. And the Bible warned us about this—the mark of the beast."
His dad tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't budge. She started printing out articles, highlighting verses, talking about prophecies. Aaron mostly stayed quiet, though Nathaniel could tell he didn't fully trust the vaccine either—not because of religion, but because something didn't add up scientifically.
Vaccination units had already arrived in nearby cities.
Late at night under his covers he talked on face time with Emma.
Emma: "My parents signed us up already. We're going as soon as they call our group. They wanna get it over with."Nathaniel: (frowning) "You're serious?"Emma: "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be? If this thing works, we can finally go back to normal. No masks. No lockdowns. Basketball games again(she said with emphasis). Honestly, I'm kinda relieved."
Nathaniel: "Emma… you don't think this is all happening way too fast? Like, literally two days ago they announced the vaccine, and now everyone's lining up like sheep."Emma: (eyebrow raised) "Okay, that's dramatic. It's not like we have any other choice, Nate. People are dying. I'm not gonna gamble with my family's lives because of some TikTok video."
Her words stung a little.
Nathaniel: "It's not just TikTok. Diego's been sending me stuff—like actual footage. Doctors saying this doesn't make sense. The timelines, the side effects. There are people who think this is… bigger."
He followed with.
Nathaniel: "Look, I'll send you some videos right now."
Emma watched them with a skeptical look on her face.
Emma: "Nate… come on." (she laughed a little, but not cruelly) "You seriously believe this stuff?"Nathaniel: "I don't know! I'm just saying… what if something's off? What if we're not being told everything?"Emma: (softly) "You sound like Diego."
That hit him harder than he expected. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
Nathaniel: "Emma, I'm just… worried. What if they're rushing this, or lying, or—"Emma: (cutting him off gently) "Nate. My dad's diabetic. If he catches this thing, it could kill him. I'm not waiting around for some random YouTuber to be proven right while my family gets sick."
Silence settled between them. She wasn't angry—just firm.For the first time, they weren't on the same page.
Nathaniel tried to joke, to change the subject, but the crack was there.Even in their friend group, whispers were becoming lines.And lines were becoming walls.
Nathaniel lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the room bathed in the cold blue light from his phone screen. It was late — too late.He should've turned it off an hour ago.
He'd just gotten off a call with Emma. The conversation had ended a little awkwardly, and his brain wouldn't stop replaying it. Half of their friend group was talking about vaccination plans; the other half, led by Diego, was spiraling deeper into conspiracies. Nathaniel felt stuck somewhere in between, caught in a storm of conflicting voices.
He scrolled absently through his feed until one video thumbnail made him stop.Robert Abercrombie — EMERGENCY BROADCAST: THE FINAL TRUTH.The title was in all caps. The thumbnail showed Robert sitting in a dark room, face half-lit by a desk lamp, expression deadly serious.
Nathaniel hesitated for a second. Then he tapped play.
Robert Abercrombie was a middle-aged man with intense eyes, a patchy beard, and the kind of voice that hooked you whether you believed him or not. He leaned toward the camera, whispering like the walls were listening.
Robert (on video): "Listen to me carefully. This will probably be the last time you hear from me. What I'm about to say will sound insane to some of you—but if you've been following the breadcrumbs like I have, you already know. The virus isn't the real threat. It's a cover-up."
Nathaniel turned the volume down a little and adjusted his pillow, the blue light flickering across his tired face.
Robert: "The so-called 'vaccine'… that's the real weapon. They're not trying to save us. They're trying to thin us out. Depopulate. Control. Imagine a world where they decide who lives, who dies, who gets food, who gets shelter. You think that's science fiction? It's not. It's already happening."
He began listing claims rapid-fire, his voice rising with every sentence:
"Mandatory vaccines. Digital vaccination status. Social credit systems. Martial law. Quarantine camps. Forced relocations. They're setting up the infrastructure right under your noses. And when the next phase begins… when the chaos hits… you'll see soldiers on every corner. Curfews. Neighbors turning on each other. Worst-case scenario? Total anarchy."
Nathaniel's chest tightened slightly. He didn't know if he believed it — but it felt terrifyingly convincing in the middle of the night, alone in the dark.
Robert leaned closer, his face filling the screen.
Robert: "This is bigger than any of us. And it's closer than you think. They're not rolling out the vaccine this fast because they're saving lives. They're doing it because the clock is ticking. Once the majority is injected, it's game over. The system will activate. And everything we've ever known will burn."
A dramatic pause. The room behind him was dead silent.
Robert: "This will be my final video. After this, I'm gone. Off the grid. Before the fascists find me. I've said all I can. Now it's up to you. Get out. Disappear. Go somewhere safe. Don't let them catch you. If you're watching this… prepare yourselves. Shit's about to hit the fan."
The screen cut to black.The video ended.
Nathaniel just lay there, the silence in his room suddenly deafening. His heart was beating a little faster than before. He stared at the blank screen, thumb hovering over the replay button, then locked his phone and set it on the nightstand face down.
But it was too late.The words were already in his head.
The vaccine is the real virus.Social credit.Martial law.Disappear before they find you.
He turned on his side, pulling the covers up, but his mind wouldn't stop spinning. It was like Robert's voice was echoing in the corners of his room.
And as sleep slowly crept in, that last sentence lingered, heavy and cold:
"Shit's about to hit the fan."
Days blurred together.The vaccination campaign swept across the world like a tidal wave. News footage showed endless lines of people outside stadiums and schools. Helicopters buzzed over cities. Politicians smiled stiffly in interviews.
But inside the Robinson house, nothing changed.They hadn't taken it. None of them.
His mom refused on religious grounds.Aaron remained skeptical, saying something about "data not lining up."Nathaniel just… stalled. He wasn't sure anymore if it was fear, doubt, or stubbornness, but as the world lined up for shots, he and his family stayed put.
And then—the video appeared.
It started with a notification in the group chat around midnight.Diego: "yo yo check this out before they delete it 👀🔥"Attached was a video file. No title. No description. Just a blurry thumbnail of snow and gunfire.
Matt: "Is this another one of your dumb conspiracy clips?"Diego: "Just watch."
Nathaniel tapped on it.
The clip opened shakily, like it had been filmed on someone's phone. A thick, gray winter sky hung over a stretch of snowy forest. The person filming was breathing hard, their voice muffled by wind. The camera panned quickly—and then froze.
A line of Russian soldiers stood behind a makeshift barricade of sandbags and trucks, rifles raised. The audio was harsh, chaotic—orders being shouted in Russian, the click of safety levers snapping off, boots crunching in snow.
Then, in the distance, movement.At first it looked like people. A group. Maybe two dozen. Then more.
But as they came closer, the camera's autofocus locked in—and Nathaniel felt his stomach twist.
They were human, but… not right.Their movements were jerky, animalistic, like wild dogs chasing prey. Some ran on all fours. Others sprinted barefoot through the snow, clothes torn, faces contorted into snarls. Their skin was pale, blotched, and their eyes—what little the camera caught—looked wild, glazed over with something feral.
Matt: "...What the fuck."Diego: "I TOLD YOU."Nathaniel: "Are those… people?"
The soldiers opened fire.The sound was deafening even through the tiny phone speaker—burst after burst tearing through the snow. The first wave of creatures fell, but more kept coming, crawling over the bodies like rabid animals. Some didn't even flinch when they were shot.
The camera shook violently as the filmer backed up, yelling something incoherent. The soldiers switched to heavier guns, the muzzle flashes lighting up the white landscape in brutal strobes.
For thirty horrifying seconds, it was just gunfire and screaming.
Then, suddenly—static.The video cut out.
Nathaniel stared at his phone, heart pounding, the group chat lighting up with frantic messages.
Matt: "That has to be fake."Diego: "Bro that's REAL. They took it down already. Check Twitter, it's gone."Nathaniel: "How do you even know it's Russia?"Diego: "The language, the gear. Look at the uniforms. My cousin said this was filmed near some military base in Siberia, they're trying to cover it up."Matt: "Jesus Christ, Diego."
Nathaniel scrolled up. The video link was already dead. Deleted.But Diego had downloaded it.And now so had he.
He lay back in bed, replaying the clip in his head. The way they moved. The way they didn't stop.He'd seen zombie movies before. Everyone had. But this didn't feel like a movie. There were no shaky jump cuts or cheesy screams. It was raw. Real. Terrifying.
And the worst part was…If this was real, it meant everything Robert Abercrombie had said might not be so crazy after all.
Nathaniel couldn't get the video out of his head.The jerky movements, the way the soldiers fired like they'd seen it before. The way the horde didn't stop. It looped in his mind over and over like a bad dream.
The next evening, after dinner, he decided to show it to his family.
They were sitting in the living room; the TV was on but no one was really watching. His mom was scrolling through her tablet, Aaron was reading something for med school, and his dad was just staring at the muted news, looking tired.
Nathaniel: "Hey… you guys need to see this."
His mom sighed.
Mom: "If this is another one of those crazy videos from Diego, I swear—"Nathaniel: "No, seriously. Just watch."
He connected his phone to the TV with smartwatch. The video appeared on the screen. For a moment, there was only wind and snow.
Then the soldiers appeared.Then the things came out of the trees.
The room fell silent.Even his dad leaned forward.
His mom covered her mouth when the first wave was gunned down.Aaron sat upright, eyes narrowing, watching every frame carefully.
When the video cut out, there was a heavy pause.
Dad: "...What the hell did we just watch?"Mom: (uneasy) "This is probably fake. They make these kinds of videos all the time online."Nathaniel: "It was deleted everywhere like, two hours after it got posted. Diego downloaded it. So did I. Look at the soldiers. That's not fake."
Aaron didn't say anything at first. He stood, walked closer to the TV, and rewound it slightly—watching the uniforms, the barricades, the way the horde moved. His jaw tightened.
Aaron: "Send me that video."Nathaniel: "Why?"Aaron: "Because if this is real, I want to know exactly what we're dealing with."
Nathaniel sent it over without hesitation. Aaron immediately forwarded it to someone—probably one of his med school professors or contacts at the hospital. His expression had changed; there was no more detached skepticism. There was concern.
The next few days felt… different.
At first, it was small things. Nathaniel started hearing the sound of military helicopters almost daily, distant but constant—sometimes at dawn, sometimes in the dead of night. Heavy rotors thumping through the sky, coming from nowhere and going nowhere.
On the news, certain cities started declaring "temporary restricted zones."At first, they were vague: "military activity," "containment protocols," "public safety measures."But people online started calling them what they really were: no-go zones. Entire neighborhoods fenced off overnight. Streets patrolled by armored trucks. No one in, no one out.
No official explanation.Just silence.
Diego (on group chat): "They're hiding something, I'm telling you. Those no-go zones? That's where the infected are."Matt: "You don't know that."Diego: "Then why the blackout? Why helicopters every night? Why fences?"Nathaniel: "He's got a point, man. This doesn't feel right."
At night, Nathaniel would lie in bed and listen. Sometimes he could actually feel the low rumble of helicopters passing overhead, making the windows vibrate slightly. It wasn't just his imagination.
Even around town, people whispered. Some said the military was preparing for riots. Others said they were locking down infected zones. No one had proof, but everyone could sense something was being kept quiet.
Stores started closing earlier. Gas stations were half-empty. Neighbors kept their lights off at night. It was like the world was holding its breath.
And Nathaniel couldn't shake the feeling that the video—the one the government tried to scrub away—wasn't just some isolated event in Siberia.It was a preview.
Nathaniel woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing nonstop.
At first, he thought it was Diego blowing up the group chat again, but when he grabbed the phone from his nightstand, his notifications were flooded. Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, Discord—every platform was exploding with the same thing:Videos. Dozens of them. From different cities.
He sat up in bed, heart already racing.
The first clip was from Los Angeles.Someone had filmed from the rooftop of an apartment building downtown. The shaky camera panned over streets clogged with abandoned cars, sirens blaring in every direction, plumes of smoke rising like storm clouds. Then the camera zoomed in.Down below, people—no, things—were attacking soldiers. They moved erratically, skin mottled and warped, limbs at unnatural angles. Some sprinted through gunfire unfazed. Others climbed over cars and barricades like animals.Gunshots cracked through the city like fireworks. Screams echoed up the skyscrapers.
Nathaniel scrolled down.The next video was San Francisco—military convoys driving across the Golden Gate Bridge, only to be ambushed by a mob of infected pouring out from the hills. It looked like something out of a nightmare: soldiers firing mounted guns, explosions lighting up the fog, the bridge becoming a battlefield.
Another video. New Delhi.Chaos in the streets. People trampling each other to escape. Police lines overrun. Fires everywhere.
Hong Kong.The MTR subway tunnels turned into a warzone, flashes of muzzle fire illuminating dark, crowded platforms as something inhuman screamed in the distance.
Rabat, Morocco.Soldiers retreating down narrow streets as a flood of infected tore through the Medina, their distorted silhouettes illuminated by burning cars.
Every single video was raw, shaky, and terrifyingly real.And they all had one thing in common: entire cities collapsing in a single night.
Within minutes, the group chat was exploding.
Diego: "BRO LOOK AT THIS. HOLY SHIT. IT'S STARTING."Matt: "What is happening?? Are these even real??"Nathaniel: "They're real. There's too many from too many places. This isn't fake."
Nathaniel ran downstairs. The TV in the living room was already on.His mom was sitting on the couch, clutching her robe tight, his dad pacing behind her. Aaron was standing near the TV with his arms crossed, eyes locked on the news.
But the cable news channels… were saying nothing.No breaking banners. No live footage. Just calm anchors reading scripted updates about vaccination schedules, travel advisories, and "isolated disturbances overseas."
Mom: "They're lying."Dad: (angry) "They're covering something up. Look at this bullshit—'isolated incidents.' Half the world's on fire!"Aaron: (quietly) "They're trying to contain panic. But this… this is way past containment."
Nathaniel held up his phone, showing Aaron one of the videos from Los Angeles.Aaron took one look at the chaos on the screen and muttered,
Aaron: "Jesus Christ…"
By mid-afternoon, social media was flooded with tens of thousands of clips from around the world.
Cities burning.
Military units retreating or being overrun.
Civilians forming mobs, looting, fleeing.
Entire neighborhoods collapsing into chaos.
Hashtags like #TheFall, #EndOfTheWorld, and #ItStarted began trending globally.
And still, the TV anchors kept smiling tightly, repeating lines about "emergency response efforts" and "remaining indoors."
But everyone knew.The illusion had shattered.
Diego (group chat): "They can't hide it anymore. This is it. This is the collapse."Matt: "Dude. LA is gone. My cousin lives there. They're not answering their phone."Emma: "I'm scared."Nathaniel: "...Me too."
That night, as the sun set, the Robinsons stood in their backyard. The air was eerily still. And above them, in the distance, the low thump of helicopters echoed like a warning.
Cities were falling.And nobody knew who would be next.
By the next morning, the tone of the news had changed.No more smiling anchors. No more scripted reassurance.Now it was government officials in uniforms, generals, and spokespeople speaking into microphones with grave faces.
Every channel was broadcasting the same message:
"ATTENTION CITIZENS: Urban centers are no longer secure. Effective immediately, the government has established Redistribution Safe Zones across the country. These zones are fully protected by military forces and are equipped with supplies, shelter, and medical care. For your safety, all citizens will be evacuated to the nearest designated zone."
Behind the officials were maps with huge green circles marking the safe zones—mostly around military bases, airports, or rural areas.The cities were shaded in red.
Unsafe.
"To maintain public order and safety, vaccination status will be required for entry into all safe zones. Military personnel will conduct door-to-door collection to ensure efficient relocation. Please have your documents and vaccination records ready. Do not resist."
The message looped again and again.The Robinson family sat together in the living room, staring at the screen in stunned silence.
Mom: (whispering) "They're… relocating people."Dad: "Evacuating. They're evacuating the cities."Nathaniel: (quietly) "Only vaccinated people are allowed in…"
The weight of that sank in.
None of them were vaccinated.
The government wasn't just recommending anymore. It was rounding people up.
Nathaniel's mom started pacing, hands over her mouth, muttering prayers under her breath. His dad sat rigid on the couch, eyes locked on the screen.
Mom: "We should've taken it. God help us, we should've taken it."Dad: "Stop. No one's putting that thing in our bodies."Mom: "Then what happens when they knock on our door, huh? What happens then?"
Nathaniel sat frozen, feeling the walls of their home suddenly closing in.Helicopters had become a daily sound. But now, outside, he could hear the distant rumble of convoys moving through the streets. Trucks. Engines. Soldiers.
And then Aaron stood up.
He didn't look panicked.He looked like someone who had been thinking this through for a while. He grabbed his jacket from the chair, then pulled a set of car keys from the hook by the door.
Nathaniel: "Aaron? What are you doing?"Aaron: (steady) "I have a plan."Mom: (alarmed) "A plan? Where are you going? You're not leaving this house—"Aaron: (firm) "Listen to me. We can't get into the safe zones without vaccination records. We'll be separated. Or worse.
His mom grabbed his arm.
Mom: "No. No, you're not going out there. It's not safe!"
Aaron gently pulled her hand away, looking both of them in the eyes.
Aaron: "You have to trust me. Please. Just this once. I'll be careful. I'll be back."
His father started to protest, but Aaron repeated it, over and over like a mantra:
Aaron: "Trust me. Trust me. Trust me."
Then he turned, opened the front door, and stepped out into the cool gray morning.The sound of helicopters thumped faintly overhead. Somewhere down the street, a truck engine revved.
Nathaniel stood at the doorway, watching his brother jog to the car and drive off.
Nathaniel (thinking): He actually left.
His mom looked terrified. His dad looked conflicted.Nathaniel felt something else entirely.The world outside was changing fast. And now his brother was out there in it.
Hours passed.The house was quiet except for the ticking of the kitchen clock and the occasional groan of wood as the wind shifted outside.
They were all sitting at the dining table, waiting.
Nathaniel's father sat at the head of the table, staring at nothing in particular. His elbows rested on the wood, hands clasped loosely, his gaze unfocused. Every now and then, a long, tired yawn slipped out, not from boredom, but from the kind of exhaustion that settles in after too much worry.
His mother sat across from Nathaniel with a worn Bible open in front of her, glasses perched low on her nose. She was whisper-reading passages under her breath, lips moving silently, occasionally pausing to underline a verse or trace a line with her finger. It wasn't casual reading; it was the kind people did when they were searching for comfort… or answers.
Nathaniel sat hunched over his phone, the blue glow lighting up his face in the dim room. His thumbs moved constantly.He was texting two chats at once — one with Matt, one with Emma — replying to whoever answered first.
Matt had messaged first.
Matt: "Yo… you think since we live so close they'll put us in the same camp? If they pick up everyone street by street?"Nathaniel: "Maybe. I mean, if they're grouping neighborhoods, it's possible."Matt: "Lowkey I'm kinda hoping they do. At least then I'll know someone. I don't wanna end up with a bunch of strangers in some quarantine tent."Nathaniel: "Yeah… same."
It was a weird thought — being rounded up, shipped somewhere, and just happening to end up with his best friend because they lived down the block. But it was also strangely comforting. A tiny slice of normalcy in the middle of insanity.
Then Emma replied.
Emma: "Nate, this is insane. Did you see the news? New York just declared a full evacuation. They're saying everyone has 48 hours to move to the safe zones."Nathaniel: "Yeah. It's getting crazier every hour."Emma: "My parents are already packing. We're leaving tomorrow morning. I don't even know what to bring."Nathaniel: "I still can't believe this is real. Like… camps? Soldiers? Whole cities just gone overnight?"Emma: "It's like the end of the world."Nathaniel: "Yeah…"
He stopped typing for a moment, staring at her last message.The end of the world.
The kitchen light flickered softly, buzzing faintly. His mom turned a page, exhaling slowly. His dad shifted in his chair but didn't speak.
Aaron still wasn't back.
Outside, the distant thump-thump-thump of helicopters echoed again — faint, but constant. It was becoming a soundtrack to their lives now.
Nathaniel checked the time. Then his phone again.No new messages from Aaron.
He typed another one anyway.
Nathaniel: "Where are you?"
The sound of the front door unlocking snapped everyone to attention.
Nathaniel's dad jolted upright in his chair. His mom lifted her head from the Bible, glasses slipping down her nose. Nathaniel immediately set his phone down, heart kicking up a beat.
Aaron stepped inside, closing the door quickly behind him. His jacket was dusted with road grit, and his hair was disheveled from the wind, but he was breathing fast—not out of panic, but out of urgency.
Mom: "Aaron!" (standing up) "Where have you been? We've been worried sick—"Dad: "You said you had a plan. What the hell were you thinking, leaving like that with everything going on?"
Aaron held up a hand, cutting them off.
Aaron: "I know. I know. Just—let me explain."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small stack of laminated cards, held together with a rubber band. He dropped them on the dining table with a soft slap.
Nathaniel leaned forward. His eyes widened.Vaccination IDs. Four of them.Each with their names, birthdates, vaccine batch numbers, and the official government stamp.
Nathaniel: "...No way."Mom: (whispering) "Oh my God."
Aaron pulled out a chair and sat, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked tired, but there was a spark of adrenaline in his eyes.
Aaron: "I went to see Dr. Morales—he teaches Infectious Diseases at the med school. He didn't take the vaccine either. He doesn't trust it."Dad: "Then how—?"Aaron: "He's got access to the medical database and the printing equipment for IDs. Apparently a lot of doctors are quietly doing this for people they trust. He printed fake vaccination IDs for all four of us."
Nathaniel picked his up carefully, like it was made of glass. His name was there, along with a serial number and the government seal. It looked official. Too official.
Nathaniel: "Holy shit… these look real."Aaron: "Because they are. Morales uses actual templates from the system. As long as no one digs into the database on the spot, we'll pass."
His mom sat back down slowly, crossing herself.
Mom: "Aaron, do you have any idea what happens if they find out these are fake? We could be arrested. Or worse."
Aaron met her eyes.
Aaron: "Yeah. I do. But what happens if we don't have them?"
Silence.
The TV was still playing the same loop about relocation protocols. Military units were already moving through some areas. Nathaniel could hear the distant sound of trucks somewhere down the main road. Time was running out.
Dad: "How long do we have?"Aaron: "I don't know. A day maybe. Two if we're lucky. They're moving neighborhood by neighborhood. Once they start knocking, we need to be ready to leave."Mom: "Leave? You mean… go to one of those camps?"Aaron: "We don't have a choice. If we stay, they'll separate us or worse. With these, we can stick together. Blend in. Once we're inside a safe zone, we figure out the next step."
Nathaniel looked down at the card again. His name stared back at him like it belonged to someone else. It didn't make him feel safe. It made him feel like the floor was starting to tilt beneath his feet.
Nathaniel: "Do you think this is gonna work?"Aaron: (quiet but firm) "It has to."
For a moment, nobody spoke. The weight of their situation hung over the table like thick smoke. But under that fear, there was something else too—a sliver of hope. Fragile, maybe even foolish. But real.
For the first time in days, they had a plan.
It was late.The kind of late when the neighborhood should've been asleep, when everything outside was dark and still.
But then came the knock.Three sharp bangs on the front door.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Everyone at the table froze.Nathaniel's mom clutched the edges of her Bible. His father turned slowly toward the door. Aaron stood up immediately, his hand instinctively going to the inner pocket where he'd tucked the IDs.
Dad: (low) "...They're here."
Another knock, louder this time.
Soldier (outside): "National Guard! Open the door, please!"
Aaron shot them all a look — calm but firm — and went to the door. He opened it slowly.
Two soldiers stood outside under the pale glow of a streetlamp, rifles slung across their chests, wearing camo uniforms and heavy vests. Behind them, the road was quiet except for the faint idle of a truck somewhere farther down the block. Their faces were shadowed by helmets, but their posture was all business.
Soldier #1: "Good evening, folks. Sorry for the late hour. We're doing neighborhood sweeps to make sure everyone has received relocation instructions."
Aaron nodded.
Aaron: "Yeah, we've been watching the broadcasts."
Soldier #2: "Good. We're just going door-to-door to verify vaccination status and brief families on evacuation protocol. May we see your vaccination IDs, please?"
Nathaniel felt his stomach twist. He glanced at his parents — both of them looked uneasy, but Aaron stayed steady. He reached into his jacket, pulled out the small stack, and handed them over.
The soldier flipped through each card under the light mounted on his vest, scanning the barcodes with a handheld device.BEEP.One by one.
Nathaniel's heart thudded with each scan.He tried to keep his face blank, but his palms were starting to sweat.
Finally, the soldier handed the IDs back.
Soldier #1: "Looks good. Keep these safe — you'll need them again at the relocation site for entry verification."
Nathaniel exhaled quietly, trying not to make it obvious.
Soldier #2: "Alright, here's how it works. This neighborhood has been scheduled for Phase 3 Relocation. That means in two days, military transport trucks will arrive at 0800 hours to take residents to the nearest Safe Zone. This one's at Camp Redwater, about sixty miles north. You'll be assigned to a transport unit based on your address. Don't be late, don't wander off, and have your IDs ready at all times."
Soldier #1: "We recommend you start preparing now. Bring only essentials and valuables. Food, water, personal documents, any medications. No furniture, no junk. Space on the transports is limited. Once you arrive at the Safe Zone, you'll be processed and assigned housing."
Nathaniel's mom stood up, wringing her hands nervously.
Mom: "What happens if someone… doesn't show up?"
The soldiers exchanged a brief glance.
Soldier #2: (carefully) "We strongly advise that everyone reports for relocation. It's the safest place to be. Anyone not present will be… followed up on."
The way he said it made Nathaniel's skin crawl.It wasn't a threat.But it wasn't not a threat either.
Soldier #1: "Someone will be back tomorrow night to do a headcount and make sure all residents are accounted for. Two days. Be ready."
They gave a stiff nod, turned back toward the street, and moved to the next house, their boots crunching on the pavement.
Aaron closed the door slowly behind them. For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was the distant thrum of helicopters somewhere far off.
Nathaniel's mom sank back into her chair, her hands shaking.
Mom: "Two days…"Dad: (grimly) "We're really doing this."
Aaron placed the IDs carefully back on the table.
Aaron: "We don't have a choice. If we don't get on those trucks, they'll come for us. And if they check the database after that…" (he didn't finish the sentence)
Nathaniel stared at the door, half-expecting them to knock again.The soldiers were gone, but their words hung heavy in the air.
Two days.That was all they had.
The soldiers' footsteps faded down the street. The Robinsons remained in the living room for a while after they were gone, as if moving too soon might somehow bring them back.
The house was quiet, but it wasn't peaceful. It was the kind of silence that hums beneath your skin.
Then, without warning—everything went dark.
The ceiling lights flickered once, then shut off completely. The TV went black mid-sentence. The hum of the fridge died. Even the streetlights outside blinked out one by one, plunging the neighborhood into total darkness.
Mom: (sharply) "What just happened?"Dad: (under his breath) "Power's out."
Nathaniel stood and peeked through the blinds. The entire street was pitch black. A few neighbors had stepped outside with flashlights, voices carrying nervously in the dark. Somewhere down the block, a baby started crying.
The power outage wasn't just their house.It was everywhere.
Nathaniel: "You think it's the grid?"Aaron: "Probably. They've been overloading everything with the relocation zones, military comms, hospitals… the system's stretched thin."
His dad went to grab the lantern from the kitchen drawer while his mom began lighting candles one by one. The flames cast flickering shadows on the walls, turning their familiar home into something older, more fragile.
Nathaniel sat back down at the table, phone flashlight illuminating his face. He checked his messages. No signal.Even cell service was spotty now.
The hours crawled by.No TV. No Wi-Fi. No noise except the distant hum of engines and the occasional helicopter sweeping overhead in the dark sky.
Every sound felt louder without the constant background buzz of electricity.The groan of the house in the night.The bark of a dog somewhere far away.The occasional slam of a car door.
They went to bed late, not because they weren't tired, but because nobody wanted to sleep. Nathaniel lay awake staring at the ceiling, his room bathed in dim orange candlelight, listening to the faint thud of helicopters. He kept checking his phone for updates that wouldn't load.
It wasn't just a blackout.It was a reminder of how quickly everything could break.
The next morning, sunlight filled the house, but the power was still out. The neighborhood looked strange in daylight — quiet, tense. No kids playing, no music, no lawnmowers.
It wasn't until around noon that the lights suddenly flickered back to life. The hum of the fridge returned. The router blinked. The house seemed to exhale all at once.
Dad: (dryly) "About time."
As soon as the lights flickered back on around noon, Nathaniel practically dove for his phone.The power outage had made the house feel like a cave, cut off from the world, and he needed to hear from someone — anyone — who wasn't inside these walls.
He opened his messages and tapped Emma's name.She'd already texted him.
Emma: "Finally made it to the camp!! 😅"Emma: "No service last night but we got Wi-Fi here lol."
Nathaniel's fingers flew across the screen.
Nathaniel: "Wait you're already there? Like at a safe zone??"Emma: "Yeah! We left early yesterday. My parents didn't wanna wait for the trucks."Nathaniel: "What's it like??"
A little bubble popped up. She was typing.Then the messages came in rapid bursts:
Emma: "Honestly? It's… kind of nice? 👀"Emma: "Feels like summer camp 😂"Emma: "They set us up in these cabins near the forest. There's a big cafeteria, medical tents, soldiers everywhere. It's super organized."Emma: "We even have like… activities? They're doing orientation later today 😭"
Nathaniel blinked, rereading her messages twice.Summer camp?His house had been plunged into darkness twelve hours ago, and she was talking about orientation.
Nathaniel: "Seriously? It's that good?"Emma: "Yeah! I was nervous at first but honestly it's kinda a relief. Everyone's calm. There's food, showers, even a playground for kids. My mom cried when we got here because it felt so safe."Emma: "They gave us wristbands for ID tracking and stuff but it's no big deal. It's actually super organized."
Nathaniel stared at that line for a moment.ID tracking.Something about the way she said "no big deal" made his stomach tighten.
Nathaniel: "So it's just… chill? No problems?"Emma: "Yup 😄 The soldiers are nice too. One of them joked it's like 'camp with guns.' I think my dad already made friends with half the medical staff lol."Emma: "You guys coming soon?"
Nathaniel hesitated. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.She sounded so normal. So happy.Meanwhile, he'd spent the last two days listening to helicopters, hearing soldiers knock on doors, watching cities collapse through shaky phone videos, and sitting through a blackout.
They were living in two different worlds now.
Nathaniel: "Yeah… trucks come in two days."Emma: "Then hurry up 😤 I need someone here who's not boring."Nathaniel: "😂 I'll try."
He put his phone down for a second, exhaling slowly.Part of him felt relieved that she was safe.Another part of him couldn't shake how perfect it all sounded. Too perfect.
He picked the phone back up and stared at her messages again.Cabins. Cafeteria. Soldiers. Tracking wristbands.
Summer camp.
Outside, a single helicopter cut through the sky, low and slow, its shadow gliding across the neighborhood like a silent warning.
Nathaniel didn't know why, but something deep down told him:It wouldn't stay that way for long.
The house was buzzing with low, steady noise.From down the hall, Nathaniel could hear his mom calling out items from a checklist, her voice clipped and anxious.
Mom (in the distance): "Canned food?"Dad: "Check."Mom: "Blankets?"Dad: "Check."
The rhythm was oddly comforting, like the beat of a clock ticking toward something inevitable.
Nathan slung his half-zipped backpack over his shoulder and made his way to Aaron's room. The door was open.
Aaron was on the floor, cross-legged, a suitcase lying open in front of him. Clothes were piled inside without much order — half-folded shirts, a stethoscope, a couple of old notebooks, socks shoved into the corners. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept properly in days.
Nathaniel: "You packing or starting a garage sale?"
Aaron snorted.
Aaron: "Bite me."
Nathaniel dropped down beside him, leaning back against the wall. For a minute, they just listened to the muffled sounds of their parents in the other room. The house felt smaller now, as if the walls were slowly closing in.
Nathaniel: "Feels weird, huh? Packing like we're going on vacation."Aaron: "Yeah. Except the destination's a fenced camp and soldiers with guns."
Nathan chuckled dryly, then noticed Aaron wasn't laughing with him. His brother's expression was distant, conflicted.
Nathaniel: "What?"Aaron: (quietly) "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."
That tone — the serious one — made Nathaniel sit up a little straighter.
Aaron zipped the suitcase halfway, then stopped, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared at the floor like he was trying to figure out where to start.
Aaron: "I'm only telling you this, Nate. Mom and Dad… they wouldn't believe it. Hell, I'm not sure I believe it. But when I went to Dr. Morales' house to get the IDs, he told me something. And he wasn't joking."
Nathan's heartbeat picked up.
Nathaniel: "Okay… what?"
Aaron exhaled slowly.
Aaron: "Morales has contacts at the CDC. Real ones. He said the original virus—the one all over the news—was basically a cover-up. The vaccine was the real thing. But something went wrong. It mutated. Not the way the people who made it planned, but in a way they didn't expect. And now… people are changing. All over the world."
Nathaniel frowned.
Nathaniel: "Changing how?"
Aaron looked up at him, eyes hard.
Aaron: "They're not human anymore, Nate. Morales said the mutation rewires their brains. Turns them violent. Animalistic. They lose everything — memory, empathy, reason. They just… attack. Instinct takes over. Like wild animals. Stronger, faster, unpredictable."
Nathan's breath caught.For a second, the world outside their house felt far away.But suddenly, everything he'd seen online — the Russian video, the cities falling, the rumors — slammed together in his head like puzzle pieces snapping into place.
Nathaniel: "Holy shit… Diego's videos. The camps. The sudden lockdowns. It all fits. It all makes sense now."
Nathaniel leaned forward, eyes wide as Aaron's words sank in.
Nathaniel: "Wait… wait, Aaron. You're saying the virus we heard about on the news was fake? And the vaccine is the real thing? That's—"
Aaron cut him off with a sharp look.
Aaron: "Not fake. Just… not what they said. Morales told me the first virus was basically a decoy. Something to get everyone desperate for a solution. The real infection came through the vaccine. But they lost control. It mutated faster than they could predict. And now it's spreading in ways they didn't plan for."
Nathan's heart started to pound. His mind was racing — flashes of Abercrombie's videos, late-night calls with Diego, and the Russian soldier footage played in his head like overlapping newsreels.
Nathaniel: "Dude… this is exactly what Robert Abercrombie was saying."
Aaron frowned.
Aaron: "Who?"
Nathaniel: "The conspiracy guy I told you about. Diego showed me his channel. He said the virus was just the bait — to make people line up for the real thing. He talked about depopulation, social control, all that insane shit. Martial law, camps, ID systems. He said the vaccine wasn't to cure people, it was to change them. Or kill them. He thought they were planning this."
Aaron didn't laugh it off. He didn't call it crazy. He just stared at Nathaniel, expression tightening.
Aaron: "You're telling me some random guy online guessed this?"Nathaniel: "Not guessed. He knew something was off. He said the real virus was hidden in the shots, and they'd use fear to get people to comply. And now—look around!"
Nathan gestured vaguely toward the window, where the low thump of helicopter blades echoed again in the distance.
Nathaniel: "Mandatory vaccines. Safe zones. ID wristbands. Martial law basically already here. And now what you just said about mutations—dude, it fits."
Aaron rubbed the back of his neck, troubled.
Aaron: "Morales didn't say anything about camps or control. But he said the mutation wasn't part of the plan. Whoever made this thing didn't intend for it to go this way. And now it's like they're scrambling to contain it without telling anyone."
Nathaniel: "And Abercrombie disappeared after that last video… he knew something was coming. He even told everyone to go dark before 'they' came for him."
The brothers sat there, surrounded by half-packed bags and the sound of their parents fussing in the distance.For a brief moment, it was like the noise of the house faded away, and it was just the two of them, putting together a puzzle no one else wanted to see.
Aaron: "So… the CDC knows. The government knows. And they're moving everyone into camps for… what? Protection? Or control?"Nathaniel: "Maybe both. Abercrombie said the camps would be for separating the vaccinated from the unvaccinated first… then they'd use that to lock everyone down. Once you're in, you can't get out."
Aaron shook his head slowly.
Aaron: "This is insane."Nathaniel: "Yeah. And the worst part? It's starting to look like he was right."
They both sat there, silent now. The weight of it hung heavy in the room.
For weeks, Abercrombie's videos had been background noise—the kind of stuff you laughed about in a group chat. But now, piece by piece, the theories weren't theories anymore.
And if Abercrombie had been right about this much…What else had he been right about?
Morning came heavy, the kind of gray, overcast morning that made the whole neighborhood feel like it was holding its breath.
Nathaniel stood by the front window, backpack slung over one shoulder, suitcase by his feet. Outside, the low rumble of diesel engines shook the street as two massive military trucks rolled slowly into the cul-de-sac, their green paint chipped and dusty, soldiers hanging off the sides.
One truck stopped at the end of the block, the other halfway down. Soldiers jumped off the tailgates, fanning out like they'd done this a hundred times before. They wore helmets, rifles strapped tight, their movements sharp and practiced.
All along the street, front doors opened one by one.Families stepped out — fathers carrying suitcases, mothers holding babies, kids clutching stuffed animals. Dogs barked nervously, cats meowed from carriers.
The neighborhood had never been this quiet.No music. No cars. Just the shuffle of feet and the distant whine of engines.
Nathan watched the Parkers from next door get into line, Mrs. Hernandez ushering her two boys ahead, an elderly couple with their golden retriever climbing into the truck bed carefully with the help of a soldier.
His mom was double-checking their papers nervously, his dad was helping Aaron with one of the bags. Finally, his father gave a firm nod.
Dad: "Alright. Let's go."
Nathan picked up his suitcase and stepped outside. The air smelled like fuel and damp asphalt. He followed his family down the driveway, the sound of dozens of people merging into one uneven rhythm.
When they reached the sidewalk, Nathan paused for a second and turned back.His dad was standing at the door, keys in hand, locking the house for the last time.For a brief moment, Nathan imagined them coming back someday. But deep down, he knew: this was probably the last time he'd ever see this house standing like this.
CLACK. The lock clicked.His dad slipped the keys into his pocket, looked at Nathan, and gave a silent nod.
And then—the sound hit.
A deafening roar tore through the air, so loud it made everyone instinctively look up.
Two fighter jets streaked across the sky, slicing through the clouds at high speed. Their engines thundered, rattling windows and setting off a couple of car alarms down the street.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.Parents froze mid-step. Soldiers turned their heads. Even the dogs went silent, ears perked toward the sky.
Nathan's eyes followed the jets as they raced toward the horizon, disappearing behind a wall of clouds. His heart was pounding.
What the fuck is going on?
The soldiers quickly started barking orders, snapping everyone back to motion.
Soldier: "Let's keep it moving! Everybody stay calm!"
Nathan adjusted the strap of his backpack and fell back in line with his family, but his mind was stuck on that moment. Fighter jets didn't fly over quiet suburban neighborhoods for no reason.
Something was happening out there.Something big.
And whatever it was, they were heading straight into it.