The day the world began to end started like any other.

Gray clouds hung low over the city, trapping the morning’s smog in a thick haze that clung to the skyline. Beneath it, the streets pulsed with their usual rhythm—endless streams of people on the move, wrapped in coats and scarves, huddled over their phones, lost in small screens and half-buried anxieties. The world outside felt like it always did: busy, distracted, unbreakable.

From his office window on the tenth floor, Gregory Moore could see the steady flow of traffic below, a stream of headlights threading through the early fog. He’d stood at this window almost every day, watching the city he thought he knew, a place of predictable routines, deadlines, and meetings. He was just one person among millions, a white-collar worker in a sea of suits and schedules, part of the silent machine that drove the city forward. But today felt different. There was something hanging in the air—an odd silence beneath the usual noise, a stillness that felt out of place.

He glanced at the street below, noting how the vehicles sat still in a long line, engines running but not moving. It was unusual for this time of day, where traffic typically flowed like clockwork. The scene felt wrong, a disruption in the city’s rhythm that sent a flicker of unease through him.

The news had been buzzing for weeks. People had started calling it “the C30 strain”—a virus that moved slowly but steadily, spreading from one city to the next, leaving whispers of hospitals overcrowded with coughing, feverish patients. Each report spoke of isolated cases, nothing to worry about, just a new flu strain that would run its course. They’d seen it all before. Life went on.

Then came the first scream.

It pierced through the usual sounds of the office, sharp and strangled, echoing down the hallway. Gregory looked over just in time to see a co-worker stumble into view—a woman from finance, her face twisted with desperation. She clutched at her throat, her skin pale and waxy, her eyes glazed with a feverish sheen. Gregory took a step back, his heart pounding, but she fell before he could move, collapsing into a heap on the thin carpet, her eyes open and staring at nothing.

Others gathered around, whispers turning to cries of alarm, but he stayed back, feeling a cold weight settle in his stomach. The air felt thick with the scent of something wrong—sickly-sweet and faintly metallic, like copper mixed with rotting fruit. A new noise drifted from further down the hall, a low moan that sent a chill down his spine.

And then, in the silence that followed, he felt the shift—something primal, some instinct buried deep. People were running now, a chaotic surge toward the emergency exits, knocking over desks, scattering pens and papers. He didn’t remember making the decision to follow, but suddenly he was moving too, his footsteps loud against the tile floors, his breaths short and shallow.

He pushed through the crowd, slipping down a side stairwell to avoid the crush at the main doors. Each floor he descended felt darker, the air thicker, the sounds from above growing faint. When he finally emerged onto the ground floor, the lobby was almost deserted. Stepping out onto the street, he was hit by a wall of noise that washed over him like a cold wave. The city outside was unrecognizable. A long line of cars stretched down the street, engines running but not moving, their drivers trapped in a chaotic gridlock.

People were spilling out of their vehicles, their faces etched with fear and confusion. A man in a suit threw open his car door and sprinted away, his briefcase forgotten on the asphalt. A woman in a bright red coat screamed as she fumbled to escape, her heels clicking wildly against the pavement. The air was thick with panic; the distant wail of sirens mingled with the sound of shouting voices, and the once-bustling street was transforming into a scene of chaos.

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Gregory's heart raced as he took in the sight. It was surreal, as if the city had been turned inside out, the very fabric of normalcy unraveling before his eyes. He stepped back from the entrance, instinctively moving away from the throng. There was no time to think, no time to process. He had to find safety.

He turned and ran, his feet pounding against the ground as he dodged abandoned cars and people rushing in all directions. The streets had become a maze of confusion, each corner hiding new terrors. Gregory’s breath came in quick gasps, and he could feel the weight of his fear pressing down on him.

He scanned the street, looking for a place to hide, somewhere out of sight. A small alleyway loomed to his left, shadowed and narrow, promising some cover from the chaos erupting in the streets. With a quick glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was following, he dove into the alley, the world outside fading as the walls closed in around him.

The alley was dark and damp, littered with trash and the remnants of forgotten lives. Gregory pressed his back against the cool brick wall, straining to hear over the din of the city. He forced himself to calm down, taking deep breaths as he pulled out his smartphone. His hands shook slightly as he unlocked the screen.

An emergency alert flashed at the top of the screen, a bold red banner that read: “Emergency Alert: C30 virus has been declared as highly contagious and is spreading rapidly. The virus is very deadly, seek shelter immediately. You are advised to stay indoors until further notice.” A wave of dread washed over him. He wasn’t just a passive observer anymore; he was part of this unfolding nightmare.

Taking stock of the chaos outside, Gregory noticed the panic had spread, a palpable fear that hung in the air. The streets were filled with people running, their faces painted with terror, and the sound of sirens blared in the distance. He needed to find a safe place, somewhere away from the chaos.

As he looked around, something caught his eye—a fire escape ladder attached to the side of an apartment building just beyond the alley. It seemed like the best option. Better to be off the streets, hidden away in an apartment than exposed to whatever horror lay beyond.

After a quick glance over his shoulder, he moved toward the ladder, the metal cold against his fingers as he gripped it and began to climb. The rungs felt slippery, but he pushed through, focusing on reaching the top. After a few tries, he spotted an unlocked window on the second floor, slightly ajar as if inviting him in.

“Hello?” he called out, peering through the window. Silence answered him. No response.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the window wider and climbed inside. The studio apartment was dimly lit, furnished with simple but stylish decor. He stepped in cautiously, the floor creaking beneath him.

As he took a tour of the space, he noted the personal touches—the framed photos on the walls, the neatly organized desk with a laptop open and a mug half-full of cold coffee. This place belonged to another white-collar worker, someone who likely earned a lot more than he did to afford a space so close to the commercial district. It was a bittersweet realization, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Gregory quickly checked all the doors and windows, ensuring they were locked properly. Satisfied with his makeshift refuge, he took a moment to collect himself. The apartment, though unfamiliar, felt like a lifeline amid the chaos.

He rummaged through the apartment, gathering supplies—canned food from the cupboard, bottled water from the fridge, a first-aid kit tucked away in a drawer. Every item felt like a lifeline, a preparation for the unknown days ahead.

As the sun began to dip below the skyline, casting long shadows across the floor, Gregory settled into the small living area, feeling a mix of fear and determination. The world outside may have spiraled into chaos, but within these four walls, he could at least find a moment of clarity.

Taking a deep breath, he sat back against the wall, listening intently to the sounds of the city below. The night was closing in, and he hoped to wait out the chaos, to stay hidden until this was all over or until the government sent help. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to believe that, somehow, things would get better. In a world now defined by fear and uncertainty, he held onto that flicker of hope, even as the shadows grew longer.