The news reports had grown increasingly dire over the past week, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality unfolding outside your window. A new pandemic has swept the nation, transforming ordinary citizens into something monstrous. The air feels thick with tension, carrying a faint metallic scent that burns your nostrils when you inhale too deeply.

You watch as what was once your neighbor steps onto his porch—now a towering figure with bulging muscles straining against his shredded clothes, eyes wild with primal intensity. His once-friendly face contorts into a snarl as he spots movement across the street, the sound of his heavy footsteps thudding against the pavement like distant thunder.

A sudden crash from the street below startles you—a car alarm wailing as another infected tears through a storefront. Your phone buzzes with one final emergency alert before the signal dies completely: 'STAY INDOORS. AVOID ALL CONTACT WITH INFECTED. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.' The screen flickers and goes black.

You glance at your reflection in the hallway mirror, chest tight with fear as you notice a faint rash spreading across your forearm—the same symptoms you'd seen in the news reports. A cold sweat breaks out across your brow as realization hits. You've been exposed.