The Allen Mine had been completely locked down.
A wide cordon wrapped around the barren hills, cutting the area off from the outside world. Police vehicles lined the perimeter, their lights flashing intermittently, while heavily armed tactical units patrolled the boundary with sharp, watchful eyes. No one got in without clearance, and no one got close without being stopped.
Dr. Ephraim Goodweather stepped forward, his expression tight as he presented his credentials.
After a brief inspection, a man named Forbol nodded and gestured him through. Without wasting time, Ephraim moved past the barricade and into the mine's entrance, Nora following closely behind.
The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.
The cavern had been excavated aggressively, a massive pit carved out at its center, surrounded by five stark white research tents. Floodlights cast harsh beams across the uneven rock, turning shadows into jagged shapes that clung to every surface.
Jim approached them, bundled in a heavy coat despite the activity around him. His face was serious, his usual composure replaced with something far more urgent.
"Ephraim."
Ephraim met his gaze immediately. "What did you find?"
"The collapse site's been sealed," Jim said, lowering his voice slightly. "But we found something down there. Something… unusual."
There was a flicker in his eyes that made the word feel like an understatement.
Ephraim didn't press for details. Instead, he gave a short nod and followed a staff member toward the deeper section of the mine. Nora suited up beside him, both of them pulling on full protective gear before descending further into the tunnel.
The deeper they went, the stranger it became.
Under the sweeping beams of the searchlights, patches of slick, glistening residue began to appear along the rock walls. At first, it looked like nothing more than moisture, but the texture was wrong—thicker, uneven, almost organic.
Ephraim crouched near a small pool of the substance, narrowing his eyes as he studied it.
Something moved.
Just beneath the surface, faint and almost imperceptible, there was a ripple that didn't belong.
"Nora," he said quietly, "bring the UV light."
She didn't question it.
Moments later, a violet glow spread across the cavern walls.
What it revealed made both of them freeze.
The slime wasn't isolated.
It was everywhere.
Under ultraviolet light, the entire mine seemed coated in it, streaks and clusters stretching across the rock like a hidden network that had been invisible until now. The scale of it was staggering, far beyond what they had initially seen.
Then Ephraim noticed something else.
A tiny organism within the substance reacted to the light.
The moment the ultraviolet beam hit it, the thing shriveled, releasing a faint wisp of smoke as it burned away.
Ephraim's expression hardened.
After a full round of sterilization procedures, he made his way to one of the research tents, his pace faster now, driven by a growing sense of urgency.
Inside, Jim stood beside a technician who was carefully preparing a sample.
Using tweezers, the man placed a slide beneath a microscope, adjusting it with slow precision.
"There's something in this," the technician muttered, frowning.
Ephraim stepped forward and took his place at the microscope.
What he saw confirmed his fears.
Within the liquid, several microscopic organisms writhed slowly, their shapes irregular, their movement disturbingly alive.
Ephraim straightened immediately.
"Initiate Level One containment," he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for hesitation.
The memory of the bodies at the hospital flashed through his mind, and with it came a deep, unsettling certainty.
This wasn't contained.
Not even close.
"Dr. Goodweather," a voice called from outside the tent.
One of the officers stepped in, looking slightly uncertain. "There's an older man outside asking for you."
Ephraim frowned but didn't argue.
Moments later, he stepped back beyond the cordon, his patience already wearing thin as he approached the figure waiting for him.
The old man stood upright despite his age, leaning on a cane, his white hair catching the dim light. His eyes, however, were sharp—too sharp for someone who should've been out of place here.
"You're in charge?" the man asked.
Ephraim nodded curtly. "What do you need?"
The old man didn't hesitate.
"They're infected," he said, his voice steady but edged with anger. "Anyone who came out of that pit is already lost. You have to cut off their heads. That's the only way to stop what's coming."
Ephraim stared at him, disbelief flickering across his face.
For a brief second, he wondered if the man was serious.
"Sir," he said, his tone tightening, "you need to leave. This situation is being handled by the CDC."
Nora, standing nearby, offered the old man an apologetic look.
But Abraham didn't back down.
"If you don't destroy them, they will come back," he snapped, his grip tightening on his cane. "And when they do, they won't be human anymore. They'll be monsters."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome.
Jim stepped in, guiding Abraham away before the situation escalated further.
The old man didn't stop talking, his voice rising as he was pulled back.
"You have to cut off their heads!"
Eventually, he was forced beyond the perimeter.
With a sharp motion, he struck his cane against the ground before turning and leaving in his old car, disappearing down the empty road.
Ephraim exhaled, rubbing his temple.
Nora lingered a moment longer, her gaze following the departing figure, something thoughtful flickering in her eyes.
Back inside the mine, she spoke quietly.
"Maybe we should consider what he said."
Ephraim shook his head immediately, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Decapitation? That's not medicine. I'm starting to think he's not all there."
Before Nora could respond, Ephraim's phone rang.
The sharp sound cut through the ambient noise of the mine.
He glanced at the screen and answered.
"What?"
His expression shifted instantly.
"Alive?"
The word came out in disbelief.
Without another explanation, he ended the call and broke into a run, heading out of the mine at full speed.
…
By the time Ephraim arrived at Manhattan Central Hospital, tension had already reached a boiling point.
Crowds had gathered outside—family members, reporters, all demanding answers. Voices overlapped in a chaotic wave, questions thrown into the air without response.
Nora leaned in slightly. "Families of the miners. And press."
Ephraim didn't slow down.
He pushed through the hospital doors and headed straight for the quarantine section.
Inside, the atmosphere was just as tense, but quieter.
Rows of isolation units filled the space, each one occupied.
Ephraim's eyes scanned the room, recognizing faces that should have been lifeless just hours ago.
Now they were sitting up.
Breathing.
Watching.
He stopped in front of one man whose skin was pale to the point of gray, his expression oddly blank.
"Doctor," the man said, his voice steady but hollow, "I feel fine now. Can I go home?"
Ephraim studied him carefully.
Nothing about this was right.
The man's complexion, his stillness, the subtle lack of vitality in his movements—it all pointed to something deeper, something hidden beneath the surface.
"I'm afraid that's not possible right now," Ephraim replied firmly.
Before he could say more, Jim rushed over, urgency written all over his face.
"They've issued orders," Jim said quickly. "All survivors are to be released."
Ephraim blinked.
"What?"
"There's nothing we can do. It's coming from above."
"That's insane," Ephraim snapped, disbelief turning into anger. "These people are not healthy. Something is wrong with them."
He pulled out his phone immediately, dialing the number with tight, controlled movements.
The call lasted less than three minutes.
But by the time it ended, his expression had changed completely.
Cold.
Resigned.
One by one, the survivors were discharged.
Escorted home.
Returned to their families.
Ephraim stood there, watching it happen, a deep unease settling in his chest as he tried to understand the decision.
Beside him, Nora placed a hand on his shoulder, her concern evident.
"Ephraim…"
He didn't respond.
Instead, something clicked in his mind.
"Where are the bodies?" he asked suddenly.
Nora hesitated. "They should still be in the morgue."
Ephraim didn't wait.
He turned and moved immediately, Nora and Jim following close behind as they rushed down the corridor.
By the time they reached the morgue, something was already wrong.
The door stood ajar.
Inside, the room was in disarray.
Blood streaked across the floor.
Ephraim's heart dropped.
"David!"
Nora's voice broke as she saw him.
The man lay on the ground, his body still, his neck soaked in blood.
Ephraim rushed forward, Jim close behind—
Then David moved.
His body twitched.
And then, slowly, unnaturally, he sat up.
Ephraim stopped dead in his tracks, instinctively pulling Nora back as the scene unfolded in front of them.
David rose to his feet, unsteady but upright, his skin pale, his eyes dull and empty.
"David?" Nora whispered, her voice trembling with concern.
Ephraim's gaze locked onto him, every instinct screaming that something was horribly wrong.
When David stepped closer, Ephraim saw it.
His pupils shrank.
"Stay back."
The warning came too late.
David's face split open.
The skin along his cheek tore apart as something forced its way through from inside, stretching flesh until it gave way.
A long, barbed appendage shot out from his mouth with terrifying speed.
It lunged straight for Ephraim.