"Ah... I think I'm rested. How about you?" Rio asked, tightening his shoelaces with slow, deliberate motions. His voice carried a quiet determination, though the exhaustion was evident in his eyes. He glanced at Elaine, concern flickering beneath his calm exterior. "We can stay a little longer if you need it. We'll need all the energy we can get."
Elaine took a shaky breath, her hands resting on her knees as if grounding herself. "I think I'm good," she replied, though her voice wavered slightly. "Just... a little shaky."
Rio nodded, noticing the slight tremor in her hands. "Tighten your laces too. We're about to do a lot of running once we hit the highway."
"Right," Elaine muttered, crouching down. Her fingers fumbled with her boots, the worn laces slipping through her hands. As she worked, she felt the weight of the night pressing in around them, the silence only broken by distant, unsettling sounds. Each moment felt heavier than the last. The laces, loosened by hours of running, jumping, and climbing across rooftops, were a reminder of how far they'd come—and how much farther they had to go.
Rio pulled out his phone from his backpack, the screen illuminating his face. His brow furrowed as he glanced at the time. <11:11 PM> flashed across the screen.
"Huh," he chuckled softly, the sound almost foreign in the tense air. "It's 11:11 PM. Maybe we’ll get lucky tonight, make it to the next city after all."
Elaine looked up from her boots, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the tension that clung to them. "You believe in that stuff?" she asked, a soft giggle escaping her, surprised by his attempt at lightness.
Rio shrugged, his lips quirking up slightly. "Not really. But it’s nice to think about, isn’t it? A little luck wouldn’t hurt. Makes me feel like maybe things will turn out okay... somehow."
His words hung in the air, a fragile hope in the midst of their fear. Elaine finished tying her boots, standing beside him and peeking over his shoulder as he studied the map on his phone. From the rooftop, the city sprawled out below them, quiet but ominous, with landmarks that marked both safety and danger. Marikina was just ahead—a city nestled in a valley, intersected by a river, like a fragile promise they had to fight to reach. It wasn’t far now, but getting there would be another story entirely.
Rio’s jaw tightened as he stared at the screen, tracing their route with his finger. "We’re close," he murmured. "But the highway’s going to be a nightmare. Let’s find somewhere in Marquinton to spend the night. We’ll need a plan."
Elaine exhaled softly, relieved by his suggestion. "Hearing you say we should stay inside… might be the safest thing you’ve ever told me," she teased, her nervous laughter doing little to hide the fear still lingering in her chest. "Where do you want to stay?"
Rio zoomed in on the map, his eyes scanning the Marquinton area. "Someplace safe. Comfortable. Easy to leave if we need to."
Elaine’s brow furrowed in thought as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her presence offering him a brief sense of comfort in the cold night. "There are condos there… maybe one of those?"
He shook his head. "Too risky. Too many people. Or worse… too many infected. And it’s high up—if something goes wrong, like a fire, we’re trapped."
Elaine bit her lip, her mind racing as she tried to think of alternatives. Then, her face lit up with an idea. "Wait… there’s that cafe along the highway. You know the one with two floors? It has backdoors we can use to leave if things go south."
Rio raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his lips. "The one that sells overpriced coffee?" He chuckled. "I’ve passed by it a bunch of times, never went in though."
Elaine nodded, her eyes momentarily softening as she thought about it. "Yeah, that’s the one. I used to order online from there sometimes when I had extra money. Their drinks are pretty good."
"Really?" Rio mused, half-amused. "You actually think they’re worth the price?"
A faint blush crept into Elaine’s cheeks as she shyly smiled. "Well... I like their Iced Pure Matcha Latte. It’s worth it to me," she said, her voice a little wistful as if savoring the memory of the taste. "And they have food too. Maybe we can find something to eat for tomorrow…"
Rio’s expression softened, the playful moment a brief respite from the looming danger. "Alright, sounds like a good enough plan. We’ll head there once we make it to the next city. Let’s just hope we’re the only ones with that idea."
With that, Rio turned off his phone. He slipped the device into his backpack and shouldered it, the weight of it grounding him as he stood. He cast one last glance over the rooftops, the distant city lights twinkling like stars, their destination just out of reach.
...
"Elaine... we're going down, are you ready?" Rio’s voice was steady, but his eyes searched hers, looking for any signs of doubt.
Elaine's gaze lingered on the chaotic scene unfolding below them—the highway a mess of confusion, people scattering in panic. Her heart pounded in her chest, the weight of their situation pressing down on her. She wanted to hesitate, to stay on the rooftop just a little longer where it felt safer. But deep down, she knew there was no turning back. Clutching her box cutter tightly, she took a deep breath. "Yeah... let's go."
Rio's brow furrowed slightly, noticing the tension in her voice. "You sure you're okay?" He gave her a small, comforting grin. "In RPG terms, this is like running from point to point on the map, dodging hostile monsters. And fighting’s not an option since they’re swarming… plus, you know, high poison damage." His tone was light, but the analogy held an eerie truth.
Elaine blinked at him, a faint smile trying to break through the tension. Rio’s analogies always helped—cutting through the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. "I’m okay," she replied, her grip loosening slightly on the box cutter, though her hand still shook. "That’s a good one, Rio. I’ve actually been through something like that before—just running, avoiding enemies while they chased me. I took some hits, but I kept going. I’m ready when you are."
Rio’s expression softened, his usual smirk replaced by a look of steely determination. He glanced ahead, eyeing the utility pole tangled with wires, the only way down from the rooftop. The electric mess made his stomach churn, but they had no choice. He slid his bloody kitchen knife back into his backpack, the weight of their situation pressing on him like never before. With a deep breath, he gripped the rough edge of the roof and began his descent.
The night was alive with noise—constant, deafening. The distant shouts and blaring horns from Sumulong Highway melded with the sound of clanging metal and the cries of panic echoing through the streets below. The once peaceful neighborhood of Balanti had turned into a war zone. No corner was silent, no place felt safe.
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Rio’s feet hit the street with a thud as he slid down the utility pole, heart pounding in his chest. He looked up at Elaine, still on the rooftop, her face illuminated by the dim glow of distant streetlights, her pale skin slick with sweat. “Come on down!” he urged, gripping his knife as he scanned the chaotic street, the noise swallowing his voice almost entirely.
Elaine steadied herself, crouching at the edge. Her fingers shook as they found purchase on the rough concrete. Her breath hitched, the chaos below making her dizzy, but she forced herself to move. As she slid down, her body tensed, the impact jarring her slightly when she hit the ground, leaving her breathless but unharmed.
“That was smooth,” Rio remarked, his voice low but tinged with pride, though his eyes stayed focused on the street ahead.
Elaine adjusted her glasses, her fingers trembling. The world seemed to tilt for a moment, the sheer volume of noise making it hard to think, let alone breathe. She flashed Rio a weak smile. “I’m learning from the best thief,” she replied, her voice barely audible over the din.
Rio chuckled, the sound lost in the night’s chaos. His smile faded quickly as the reality of their situation settled in again. "Stay close," he muttered, his voice strained, yet unwavering.
Together, they moved forward, each step heavier than the last. The quiet streets of Balanti disappeared behind them as the growing clamor of Sumulong Highway consumed the night. Sirens wailed in the distance, blending into the frantic cries of the fleeing crowds. The occasional screech of tires and the constant shuffle of hurried feet filled the air. They could barely hear their own breathing over the chaotic noise.
As they stepped onto the highway, the scene before them was pure pandemonium. Cars were jammed at odd angles, doors thrown open, belongings scattered on the road in the panic of evacuation. People ran everywhere—some clutching children, others dragging suitcases or clinging to each other. The sheer noise of it all was suffocating—every scream, every car horn blaring in their ears, making it impossible to think clearly.
The infected were there too.
Elaine’s heart pounded as she spotted them—twisted figures moving through the throngs of evacuees. Their faces were contorted with rage, eyes bloodshot and wild. They weren’t mindless—they knew exactly what they were doing. Some bit into the fleeing, others tackled and beat them with horrifying precision. Screams pierced the air as more bodies fell, disappearing into the river of panicked people, lost forever to the chaos.
Rio’s grip tightened around the knife, his knuckles white. "Keep moving," he said, his voice barely cutting through the cacophony. He led them forward, his eyes darting left and right, calculating every step as if their lives depended on it. And they did. Elaine stayed close, her hand clutching his windbreaker sleeve, her box cutter gripped tightly in the other hand, ready to strike if needed.
The crowd was like a living, breathing monster—surging forward in waves, people pushing and shoving to escape the terror behind them. In the distance, a group of evacuees had taken up arms, makeshift weapons swinging wildly as they tried to fend off the infected. The sound of metal clashing against bone and flesh reverberated through the air, a frantic battle to protect those who couldn’t fight.
"Elaine, stay close," Rio said again, his voice sharper this time. They weaved through the chaos, dodging fallen bags, discarded belongings, and the occasional body lying lifeless on the street. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and panic. Every breath felt heavy, like breathing through a thick, suffocating fog.
A scream ripped through the night, cutting straight into Elaine’s core. She whipped her head around just in time to see a woman tackled by an infected, her cries silenced as she was dragged into the crowd. Elaine’s grip on Rio tightened, her body trembling with fear and adrenaline. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but the crush of bodies made it nearly impossible to move faster.
"Rio, we need to—" she began, her voice barely audible over the chaos.
"I know,” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a gap in the crowd ahead—a less crowded part of the road where an overturned jeepney provided brief cover. "Just a little further. We’re almost there."
The infected were closing in, their snarls growing louder as they tore through the evacuees with brutal efficiency. Rio’s pace quickened, his every step deliberate, his focus razor-sharp. Elaine matched his movements, her heart pounding in her ears, the box cutter in her hand trembling with anticipation.
Their world had narrowed down to this—the noise, the chaos, the threat of death at every corner. But they kept moving, one step after another, driven by the singular need to survive.
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Inside the closed-down beauty salon on the second floor of a two-story building in Felix Y. Manalo Street, just next to Sumolong Highway, Florence Espiritu paced restlessly. The air was thick with tension, and the soft hum of the air conditioning did little to soothe his frazzled nerves. His luscious, dyed-blonde hair framed his face, strands sticking to his skin from the sweat of fear and uncertainty. He clutched his phone like a lifeline, scrolling endlessly through social media, taking in the grim updates about the outbreak—the chaos, the infected, and the race to reach quarantine zones. He knew every detail, knew exactly where he should be headed, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor.
Safe. He was safe here, at least for now. The sturdy walls of the salon seemed like a protective bubble, a fragile barrier between him and the horrors outside. But the fear gnawing at his chest wasn’t just about the infected—it was the gnawing anxiety that if he stayed too long, he'd miss his chance to escape. He could hear the distant chaos on Sumulong Highway below, people fleeing in droves, all heading toward the quarantine zone. He knew he should go, but the thought of stepping outside—alone—was paralyzing.
"Oh my god, why is this even happening?" Florence groaned, his voice edged with panic as he slumped back onto the sofa. His hands trembled as he dialed the number of yet another friend, praying for an answer. The beeping noise on the other end only heightened his desperation. Every call went unanswered. His inbox was filled with nothing but silence. "What am I gonna do?!" he shouted, bouncing in frustration as he fanned his face with his hand, a nervous habit he couldn’t shake.
His stomach growled loudly, a physical reminder of how long he’d been hiding up here, too afraid to leave. "I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse!" he whined, but the humor of the statement didn’t break through his anxiety. Hours had slipped by, and the hunger only made the gnawing sense of helplessness worse.
His thumb hovered over the screen, sending desperate texts, one after another:
Florence pressed send on each message, but with each unanswered text, the hope drained from his heart a little more. Finally, he called his boyfriend again, his voice shaky as he whispered to himself, "Those infected will bite my ass the second I step outside..."
The phone rang, the sound loud and mocking in the silent salon. He waited, holding his breath, willing his boyfriend to answer this time. "Please, darling, please..." His voice cracked as tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over as he realized he was still alone. Completely alone. The ringing stopped, the silence deafening.
Florence dropped the phone onto his lap, his chest heaving as he tried to control his sobs. The fear, the frustration, and the loneliness all blended together in a suffocating mix of emotions. He buried his face in his hands, feeling like giving up, the weight of the outbreak pressing down on him harder than ever.
Minutes passed, the room eerily quiet except for the faint sounds of panic from outside. As his breathing steadied, Florence wiped his eyes and glanced around the room, his gaze landing on the shears sitting neatly on his tool trolley. For a moment, he just stared at them, lost in thought. Then something shifted. The soft light glinted off the sharp metal, and an idea flickered to life in his mind.
He slowly stood up, his movements deliberate, his heartbeat beginning to steady as resolve took root. Florence walked toward the trolley and picked up the shears, the familiar weight in his hand suddenly feeling like something new. He held them the way he always did—with the expertise of a seasoned stylist—but this time, it wasn’t hair they would cut.
His eyes drifted toward the front door of the salon, the key to the metal shutter gleaming in his hand like the last piece of the puzzle. He took a deep breath, wiping away the last traces of tears from his face. The fear was still there, lingering in the corners of his mind, but now it was joined by something else—determination.
"I’m not staying here to die," he muttered under his breath, his voice no longer trembling.
Florence walked with purpose to the door, unlocking the shutter with steady hands. As it creaked open, the chaos of Sumulong Highway poured in, but he didn’t flinch. Gripping the shears tightly, he raised the shutter higher and stepped forward, ready to face whatever was waiting outside.