Back at home, Jason gently shut the door to his sister Elyse's room, where she lay curled up with Jay, their overly enthusiastic but slightly unkempt pup. The dog's fur stuck out in random tufts, a stubborn rebellion against every brush Jason had ever attempted.
"You're going to catch something sleeping beside that furball," he muttered, shaking his head. But the sight of them—Elyse's steady breathing, Jay's tail thumping lazily even in sleep—made him smile.
Jay let out a soft whine, from inside."Don't worry, buddy. You're getting a bath tomorrow whether you like it or not." That was a battle for another day—a test of endurance between man and beast.
His phone buzzed. Arnon.
Jason already knew what it meant before he even looked.
Get back. Containment failed.
Exhaling sharply, he locked the door behind him and headed outside, where Robert was already waiting in his car. The cool night air did nothing to shake off the weight settling in Jason's chest.
Robert, ever the night owl, greeted him with a lazy grin as Jason slid into the passenger seat. "Sarah's losing her mind. Whatever this virus is, it's rewriting the rulebook."
Jason rubbed his temples. "Yeah, no kidding. I'll bet Arnon's already brute-forcing his way through it."
Robert chuckled as he pulled onto the main road. "And Diego's swearing at the firewall like it personally insulted his mother."
The city blurred past—streetlights casting long, flickering shadows across the empty roads.
By the time Jason stepped into the office, the place was steeped in an eerie quiet, broken only by the hum of monitors and the occasional frustrated sigh. The glow from the screens painted the walls in shades of blue and green, reflections of code scrolling too fast for most eyes to follow. Jason exhaled all that there was within and settled into the most comfortable position his office etiquette course allowed.
He raised his hand above his head and cracked his knuckles.one look at the logs he pulled up .
The virus had evolved.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
It had slipped past their containment measures, spreading unpredictably.
Lines of code scrolled endlessly across his screen, but it was the system logs that made his stomach twist:
Files that never existed suddenly appeared, timestamps placing their creation years before the system was even built.
Employee records were scrambled—wrong names paired with incorrect IDs, faces that didn't belong.
Login timestamps showed people signing in before their accounts were even created.
Jason sighed. "Miracle virus."
Arnon leaned over his shoulder, eyes bloodshot. "I restored a compromised server twenty minutes ago. It's infected again."
Jason frowned. "That fast?"
"I don't think it ever left."
Sophia, their digital forensics expert, approached, setting a fresh cup of coffee beside Jason. "This thing isn't spreading through traditional methods. No phishing, no exploits, no lateral movement. It's like…" She hesitated, searching for the right words.
"Like it's hunting," Jason finished.
Sophia nodded grimly. "It doesn't just spread—it chooses where to go."
Across the room, Diego cursed under his breath. "I just blocked an outgoing connection, but the moment I did, another popped up somewhere else."
"Whack-a-mole?" Robert suggested.
"Yeah," Diego said. "Except the moles are learning."
Jason clenched his jaw. He had seen aggressive malware before, but this was different. It wasn't just adapting. It was anticipating.
The team launched into action:
Arnon spearheaded containment efforts, isolating compromised systems.
Sophia and Jason combed through logs, trying to track the infection's origin.
Diego monitored real-time traffic, tracing its movements.
Robert scrambled to fix corrupted user accounts before anyone noticed.
Hours blurred together. Coffee cups piled up. The office reeked of caffeine and stress.
At some point, Sarah, their team lead, stormed in, equal parts exhausted and furious. "Tell me we have this under control."
Jason hesitated. "Seventy-five percent contained. But the remaining twenty-five percent is… unpredictable."
Sarah sighed, rubbing her temples. "I don't care what you have to do—end this."
The clock ticked past 4 AM.
Arnon finally leaned back, exhaling. "I think… we stabilized it."
Jason double-checked the logs. No new infections. The virus hadn't made a move in over an hour.
Not a win. But close enough.
Jason barely made it to the couch at team's temporary rest area before exhaustion claimed him. He collapsed into bed, his body sinking into the softness, his mind shutting down before it could process anything else.
---
A vast ocean stretching across the horizon.
Water, black and silver, reflected a sky brimming with galaxies, constellations swirling like living beings. Each step sent ripples across the surface, waves humming with music.
On the horizon, a massive tree stood, its branches cradling entire planets, their glow pulsing like beating hearts. As he walked, the stars rearranged themselves into symbols—fragments of forgotten memories, moments of joy, long-lost faces.
Laughter. Distant, familiar. Comforting.
Then the warmth began to fade.
The laughter twisted, stretching beyond recognition—a warped, jagged sound, like something imitating joy. The faces convulsed, smearing together. Skin melted into shadows, mouths vanishing, leaving only eyes.
Too many eyes.
Unblinking.
They widened in eerie synchronization, their silent gaze pressing down. A presence, unseen but undeniable, loomed beyond them.
Jason tried to move. He couldn't. The air thickened, congealing around him like invisible tar.
The eyes weren't just watching him.
They remembered him.
Something deeper than recognition. Something ancient. Something waiting.
Then, in perfect unison, they blinked.
---
Jason jolted awake, a sharp inhale tearing through his throat. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs.
For a split second, he wasn't sure if he was truly awake.
The room felt wrong.
Like something had shifted in the night while he wasn't looking.
His eyes flicked to the clock.
4:17 AM.
Two hours of sleep.
It would have to be enough.