Ethan's breath hitched as the transformed officer lunged at the newly arrived policeman. A frantic shout burst from the new officer's lips as he drew his weapon, but it was too late; his colleague had already closed the distance between them. They tumbled to the ground, their desperate struggle sending gravel flying.

"We have to go, now!" Ethan yelled, the weight of the situation crushing any lingering doubts. He turned and sprinted away from the horrific scene, adrenaline surging through his veins.

Others in the crowd, jolted into action by Ethan's words and the unfolding nightmare, scattered in every direction. The bus driver dropped his phone and ran, his panicked cries joining the cacophony of terror. More police sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as they approached, but Ethan had no intention of sticking around to see what would happen next.

His thoughts raced as fast as his pounding footsteps. He needed to get to Jane. He needed to make sure she was safe. But how could he, stranded as he was, miles away from her apartment? He fumbled for his phone while maintaining his breakneck pace, stumbling over uneven ground. He managed to dial Jane's number, his eyes scanning his surroundings for any sign of immediate danger.

The call once again went to voicemail. Ethan's heart sank, but he couldn't afford to slow down. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and veered into a narrow alley, hoping it would lead him to a main street where he could flag down a taxi or find another way to get to Jane.

His eyes darted left and right, scrutinizing the shadows that filled the gaps between dumpsters and stacked crates. Nothing moved, but the oppressive silence did little to ease his mind. It was as though the world held its breath, waiting for the next calamity to strike.

Ethan finally burst out of the alley and onto a more populated street. Cars honked and pedestrians filled the sidewalks, but Ethan felt an eerie disconnect between this semblance of normality and the horror he had just witnessed. He hailed the first taxi he saw, throwing himself into the back seat as he barked out his destination.

The taxi had barely moved a block when it ground to a halt. A traffic jam stretched out before them, an undulating sea of red brake lights. Ethan clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening with tension.

Then he heard it — screaming up ahead, shrill and tinged with an unmistakable note of terror. His stomach churned, the weight of dread settling in. Whatever was happening ahead was spreading, and fast.

"Turn around! Go back!" Ethan urged the driver, his voice tinged with desperation.

The driver shot him a confused look in the rearview mirror but didn't question him. He deftly maneuvered the car into reverse, seeking an alternative route.

Ethan's eyes remained fixed on the chaos unfolding ahead. He barely noticed when the taxi driver executed a quick U-turn and sped down a side street. The gridlock had already started to bleed into the more minor roads, but the taxi driver was able to dart around the obstacles with a skill that betrayed his years of experience.

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Finally, the driver broke the silence. "Looks like whatever's going on is pretty serious, huh?"

Ethan nodded, his eyes still scanning the periphery for any signs of danger. "You have no idea."

They reached another main street, this one still blissfully unaware of the nightmare spreading through the city. People chatted at cafes, cyclists weaved through traffic, and children laughed as they played. But Ethan knew this illusion of safety was just that — an illusion.

"Stop here," he told the driver, unable to shake the sense of urgency that clawed at him.

The taxi pulled over, and Ethan handed over a wad of bills. "Keep the change," he said, stepping out into the world that no longer made sense. He looked around, assessing his options. Public transportation was a no-go; the risks were too high. His best chance was on foot, sticking to less populated areas.

He broke into a run, his breaths short and his heartbeat loud in his ears. Ethan turned into another narrow alley, its darkness less intimidating than the unknown dangers in the open streets. He pushed his legs harder, propelled by his primal instinct for survival. As the adrenaline coursing through him seemed to heighten his senses, he heard a scuffling noise behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder, catching a fleeting glimpse of a shadowy figure rapidly closing the distance between them. Panic surged anew, and Ethan's legs responded, propelling him forward with newfound speed. Up ahead, the alley opened into a vacant lot filled with old machinery and stacks of wooden pallets. With no time to even think, Ethan veered sharply to the right, ducking behind a rusty old container.

He held his breath, listening as the footsteps grew louder, then softer, and finally disappeared altogether. Exhaling slowly, Ethan peered around the corner, surveying the area for any sign of the figure. Seeing none, he pushed away from the container, his muscles protesting the sudden movement.

He cautiously moved away from his hiding place, every nerve screaming at him to keep going. He re-entered the maze of alleys and streets, his eyes darting continuously for any signs of danger.

As he neared a bustling intersection, Ethan caught sight of something that made his blood run cold. A crowd had formed around and was clawing and snarling at a lone pedestrian, who was screaming in terror. The group had turned; their eyes vacant, faces twisted into expressions of insatiable hunger. The infection, or whatever it was, had spread further than he’d imagined.

He skirted the intersection entirely, refusing to attract any attention. The weight of the situation pressed on him even more urgently. He needed to reach Jane’s house, but the growing evidence suggested that making it there in one piece was becoming even less likely by the minute.

Ethan's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a chilling wail, not far from his location. He quickened his pace, cutting through a park that was normally filled with people. Now, it was deserted, except for a disheveled man who sat on a bench, his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Across the park, a few people were running, their eyes wide with fear, chased by another pack of transformed humans.

Ethan's gaze locked onto the fleeing group, their panicked faces a mirror to his mounting fear. Then he saw them — another group of several infected, their heads snapping around as if catching his scent. Their eyes were vacant as they met his, and a collective howl rippled through the group.

A bolt of icy dread shot down Ethan's spine; he had been spotted. Every survival instinct he had screamed at him to run, to escape the encroaching death that was quickly approaching him. As their guttural growls filled the air, the infected surged toward Ethan, their eyes devoid of humanity as they locked onto him, making it chillingly clear that escape was not an option.