Several days had passed since Leo Cormac first ventured outside and saw the mad ones roaming the City streets, their silhouettes flickering in the fog like shadows from another world. June 2030 dissolved in sweltering heat and the dampness of endless rains. But worst of all was the deathly silence that had descended. For Leo, time had lost all meaning, stretching into an endless nightmare of half-sleep, where each day was merely a pale copy of the last.
He got up, his body moving on autopilot, ate canned food, swallowed lukewarm water, checked the bunker systems buried beneath the first floor of the cottage, and went to sleep, lulled by the hum of the filters. All the while, he told himself this wasn't real—just a dream, a hallucination caused by clogged filters and lack of oxygen that had made him lose consciousness.
Soon, he assured himself, Anna would return. He would open the door for her, her voice would shatter the silence, bring him to his senses, and he would tell her about this stupid dream, swearing never to conduct such experiments alone again. Her laughter would be his salvation.
But days passed, their count lost in monotony, and hope melted like drops of water on hot asphalt. Leo spent more and more time in front of the monitor, his eyes red from strain, watching the streets where the mad ones wandered among the wreckage. Their footsteps echoed in his mind.
He saw a man in a torn jacket, its fabric hanging on thin shoulders, banging his head against a shattered bus that had crashed at full speed into a roadside tree, until blood flooded the asphalt, its red spots gleaming under the weak light. Another, in the remnants of a work jacket, stood motionless for almost a whole day, staring at the wall of the neighboring house, his silhouette seeming like a statue carved from darkness.
Leo tried not to look at them for too long. Their empty eyes, like the blown-out windows of houses, reminded him that Anna might already be out there somewhere among them, her figure dissolving into the chaos. He chased this thought away like a pursuing shadow, but it kept returning, clinging to every rustle, every faint sound that came through the walls.
He poured himself water from a bottle standing on the work desk. Its plastic crackled under his fingers, tearing the bunker's silence. He took a sip. The water was warm, tasteless, leaving only dryness in his mouth, but he forced himself to drink—every sip was an act of survival.
"Everything's under control," he muttered. But his voice sounded muffled, like an echo in the empty bunker, reflecting off the concrete walls and returning to him with a mocking tone.
Silently, on autopilot, he turned on the cameras. Their hum was somewhat calming. He checked the perimeter; the screen trembled under his fingers. Hyde Street was empty, its silence pressed on his ears, but a figure flickered in the alley again—someone in tattered clothing, wandering aimlessly, his steps echoing hollowly in the emptiness.
Leo didn't zoom in. His hand froze over the tablet. He no longer wanted to know who it was, couldn't bear it anymore. Fear was shackling his will.
By the end of the week, when the days had blurred into one endless stream, Leo finally understood: this was not a dream. Reality was as cruel as the cold concrete surrounding him, and he could no longer hide forever, deceiving himself with illusions. His engineering mind, accustomed to seeking solutions, demanded answers. His fingers trembled as he clenched a pencil, making yet more meaningless entries in his notebook.
Something had clearly happened to the world, and it all started with that message on the fourth day of the test:
Anomaly in air composition.
He remembered how the sensors had shown a rise in the concentration of unknown particles, how the filters coped, trapping them, but the world outside was collapsing, its wreckage flickering on the screen.
Leo opened the laptop connected to his house's local database. Its screen cast a faint light on his face as he began analyzing the sensor logs, lines of code flashing before his eyes. Although the gas concentration had dropped almost to zero in recent days, he had given himself a promise: not to go outside without a respirator. The fear of the poison's return nested in every breath.
Leo didn't know what this gas did to the mind, but he saw its effects perfectly—in the mad ones, who had ceased to be human. Their movements were a nightmare made real.
Taking a notebook from the desk drawer, its pages rustling under his fingers, he tried to concentrate, his hand tracing uneven lines. If the gas was the cause, then where was its source? An accidental leak from a secret lab? Or an intentional military experiment, set up by someone in silence?
Rumors, long circulating among the populace, surfaced in his memory—about secret government projects, about chemical tests that politicians always denied with their by-now-habitual arrogant confidence. Perhaps these weren't just rumors. Maybe someone had made a mistake, and now the world was paying a terrible price for it.
Trying to distract himself, Leo checked the air filters. Their hum was even, like the pulse of a living organism. But he replaced the charcoal cartridge anyway, his fingers trembling as he unscrewed the lid, to be sure the protection wouldn't fail.
Then he approached the hydroponic greenhouse, where sprouts of lettuce and potatoes slowly stretched toward the LED lamps. Their weak light cast shadows on the walls. He watered them, feeling how the routine calmed him slightly. Water dripped on the leaves; their greenery seemed a fragile beacon in this hell.
But this calm was deceptive. His heart beat faster as he realized the truth—he could not remain in this cage he himself had built. Its walls pressed on him, demanding action.
Leo knew he had to go outside. Find answers. Perhaps try to find Anna—her image flickered in his thoughts like a ghost. Or at least understand if there was anyone else who remained human, whose voice could break this silence.
His mind demanded movement; his hands clenched into fists as he imagined the streets full of mad ones. He could no longer sit, staring at the monitor where every frame was a reminder of loss.
Leo checked his meager supplies, made with a month in mind: canned goods, water, batteries. Everything was in place, but it brought no comfort. He took the electroshock weapon in his hands. Its sparks crackled as he checked the charge, feeling the metal chill his palm. He tucked it into his belt. He checked the flashlight with its narrow beam; its light trembled in the bunker's darkness.
The respirator waited on the table, its rubber sharply reeking of chemicals. Leo put it on; each breath through the filter sounded louder than he wished.
Silently, he approached the bunker's armored door leading to the basement under the first floor of the cottage he shared with Anna. The door's metal chilled his fingers as he grasped the handle and froze, listening.
The silence outside was deafening. It pressed on his ears like a physical weight, for he knew that beyond the door wasn't just the street, but a world where every step could be his last. His heart began to pound sharply, echoing in his chest, but he had no right to retreat.
He had to learn the truth, even if it destroyed the last remnants of hope.
Leo opened the door. The metal's screech cut through the silence. He quickly slammed it shut before the faint chemical smell could seep inside, mingling with the bunker's air. Carefully, he emerged into the house's basement, where his steps echoed hollowly on the concrete floor, then ascended to the first floor, where shadows danced in the weak light seeping into the house from outside.
The air outside was heavy, saturated with an acrid chemical smell that even the respirator couldn't completely muffle. His throat tightened from the bitterness. Slowly, reluctantly, fighting the desire to abandon everything and immediately flee into the bunker's saving silence, he stepped outside.
Hyde Street, on which the cottage was situated, stretched before him—empty, its asphalt littered with the wreckage of smashed cars, enveloped in a deep silence that buzzed in his ears.