Let's rewind to earlier that day, at 5:04 PM—three hours before the infection reached its critical mass.
Back at the mall in Marcos Highway, inside a cozy video game store.
"Thank you for shopping with us!" The cashier's warm smile greeted the nerdy freckled-face woman with glasses as she left, clutching her newly acquired handheld console and a bundle of game cards in a paper bag. Not one for extended social interactions, the glasses gal hurried through the bustling mall, eager to retreat to her apartment. But suddenly, a pressing urge interrupted her mission.
"Ugh, of all times!" She shifted uncomfortably, hastening towards the escalator to find relief.
As she turned towards the restroom corridor, a disheveled department store clerk emerged from the men's room. His unsteady gait and trembling hands unsettled her; this was the same person Rio, the college student, had attended to earlier behind the stall door. She skirted past him, curiosity piqued but urgency taking precedence.
Just as she reached the women's restroom door, a sickening thud echoed behind her.
"Hey, are you alright?" Her concern overcame her desire for solitude. She knelt beside the fallen man, checking for signs of consciousness. His body convulsed weakly, his mouth frothing—a sight that turned her stomach.
"Come on, stay with me." She cautiously felt for a pulse, relief flooding her as she found a faint rhythm. Hastily, she fumbled for her phone to dial for help.
"911," she muttered as she dialed.
Ring... Ring...
"Sorry, the 911 emergency hotline is fully occupied due to the high number of existing calls. Please try your call again later."
"What?" Frustration and worry mingled in her voice. How could help be unreachable when it was needed most?
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Isko maintained his post at the mall entrance, vigilant during his shift when the glasses-wearing woman approached him in a rush.
"Sir, there's an unconscious man in the restroom hallway. His mouth was foaming, and he collapsed suddenly," she reported urgently.
Acknowledging her report, Isko radioed in to his colleagues, "This is Halili at the front entrance. There's a report of an unconscious man in the restroom. I'm heading there now. Over."
"Copy that," came the response.
"Come with me, ma'am," Isko instructed, guiding her towards the restroom area. "Did you manage to call 911 or provide any first aid?"
"I tried calling 911, but the line was fully occupied. And no, I didn't administer any first aid," she replied, following closely.
"It's strange. 911 should always be available for emergencies," Isko remarked, dialing the emergency number on his keypad phone to check.
The automated voice responded, "Sorry, the 911 emergency hotline is fully occupied due to the high number of existing calls. Please try calling again later."
"See? It's bizarre. I wonder why they can't take calls," the woman commented, perplexed.
Isko sighed, deciding to focus on the immediate situation. "Let's check on him first. Perhaps he doesn't need an ambulance; first aid and rest might suffice."
As they reached the restroom hallway, they found it empty. Isko was puzzled, suspecting a potential prank.
"Where is he?" Isko inquired sharply.
The woman appeared bewildered. "He was here just a moment ago."
Isko's suspicion grew. "I know what this is about. You're one of those 'content creators' who prank people for the internet," he accused, arms crossed. "Respect those who are working. We serve the public with sincerity."
"I might be a content creator, but I'm not that kind of creator—wait, how did you know?" she asked, surprised by his insight. "But I swear, I was heading to the restroom when I found him collapsed! I checked his pulse and tried calling 911!"
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The walkie-talkie interrupted with urgent communication from Isko's colleague, Irene Panganiban.
"Isko, do you copy? This is Panganiban—I need your help on the first floor. There's a situation. I'm investigating," Irene's voice crackled through.
"Halili here. The restroom situation was a false alarm," Isko responded over the radio.
He then heard heavy breathing on the other end.
"Halili—I need your assistance ASAP. A department store clerk is attacking people. I tried to intervene and stop him but he bit me—I'm bleeding!" the urgent plea from his colleague echoed through.
"Sir, look," the woman pointed to frothy saliva on the floor. "This is from him."
Isko examined the saliva carefully.
"What did you say he was wearing?" Isko questioned, trying to connect the dots.
"He was dressed as a department store clerk, just as your colleague described," the woman replied, her unease growing. "This doesn't make sense..."
They exchanged a troubled glance, realizing it was the same man she had reported. How could he have collapsed and then started attacking people?
"Let's go. You're coming with me," Isko decided firmly, rushing towards his colleague's location with determination, his revolver holstered at his side. "This is Halili, I'm coming to your situation for backup. Over"
"What? Why do I need to come?" the woman protested, torn between fear and curiosity. "Damn it... Wait! I haven't even used the restroom!"
Despite her reluctance, she followed Isko, her mind racing with apprehension over the increasingly bizarre turn of events.
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Isko arrived swiftly at the escalating scene on the mall's first floor. Spectators gathered as some began to scatter, watching the unfolding scene. Sensing an opportunity to share the moment with her followers, Elaine Carreon, the glasses gal, went live on her social media platform. She used the rear camera to stream the events without showing her face.
"Make way, make way!" Isko shouted, pushing through the crowd, with Elaine following closely behind him.
Suddenly, a chilling scene confronted Isko: a department store clerk, reported earlier, viciously pummeling a man on the ground. Each blow echoed through the tense air, saliva spraying from the clerk's frothing mouth onto his victim's face.
"Freeze!" Isko drew his revolver, aiming it at the aggressor.
The clerk hissed aggressively, saliva dripping from his lips, then abruptly rose from the beaten man and bolted away.
Remembering Irene, his injured fellow guard, Isko found him in a corner, desperately trying to staunch a deep neck wound inflicted by the rampaging clerk.
"You should've shot him," Irene gasped, his face drained of color.
"He was unarmed. Shooting him could've landed us in deep trouble. Hang on," Isko reassured, wrapping Irene's neck with bandages from his kit. "I'll try 911 again."
Isko dialed, but the line was jammed with other urgent calls.
"Help, I'm feeling sick," Irene muttered.
Irene convulsed violently, saliva and tears streaming down his face, lost in hallucinatory euphoria before losing consciousness.
Elaine, broadcasting live, voiced panic: "What's happening?!"
"Stay back," Isko ordered, shielding her with his arm.
Irene suddenly regained consciousness with a guttural scream, lunging at Isko with terrifying aggression. In the struggle, Isko dropped his handgun.
Irene pinned Isko down, hissing and drooling, while Isko fought to keep him at bay.
"Panganiban, snap out of it!" Isko grappled with his former ally.
The chaos intensified as Isko battled to subdue Irene, grappling with the horror of his colleague's inexplicable aggression.
People who had been watching nearby fled for their lives upon realizing the danger of the situation. The man, whose mouth was filled with saliva from the department store clerk he had swallowed, turned violent. He began chasing and biting people, potentially spreading the disease.
As Irene moved to attack him, Isko suddenly remembered his earlier conversation with a college student warning about a spreading disease. It was too late; the sick person in front of him was already trying to transmit the disease. In that terrifying moment, he feared he would never see his wife and two children again, knowing he might end up like those already sick.
Just as Irene was about to bite, a gunshot echoed through the mall.
Isko felt Irene's body collapse onto him, blood and brain matter staining his security guard uniform. He pushed his lifeless body off and scanned the chaos for the source of the gunshot.
Elaine stood nearby, gripping a revolver in her hand, stunned by what she had just done. It was her first time shooting someone, let alone killing them. She stood in shock at the center of the scene, overwhelmed by the traumatic events unfolding around her. In her daze, she dropped the bag of items she had purchased earlier, and her phone clattered to the ground.
A ringing sound filled Elaine's ears, the aftermath of the loud gunshot making it hard for her to hear or process anything. Isko approached cautiously, gently guiding her hand to lower the gun before taking it from her. He then holstered the revolver back onto his belt.
"We need to leave," Isko said urgently, picking up Elaine's phone and paper bag from the floor. The phone was still live-streaming, capturing the chaos from her perspective as she shot the sick security guard.
The sick department store clerk sprinted through the mall, spreading the disease with each vicious bite, hastening its grim advance. Panic gripped the mall as the situation escalated rapidly. Shattering glass showered down as the railing collapsed, resulting in tragic falls from upper levels. Those who survived the drops endured excruciating injuries, their cries of pain echoing through the chaos, only to face relentless pursuit and assault by the sick.
The sick individuals targeted the healthy, violently transmitting the disease through bites or forcefully passing saliva. They formed groups, ruthlessly attacking their victims with brutal force, spreading chaos and terror throughout the mall.