Evelyn's heartbeat pounded in her ears as she sprinted through the dimly lit corridors. Every breath was a struggle, her wounded arm throbbing with sharp, searing pain. Behind her, the sound of claws scraping against metal echoed—a sickening reminder that the creature was still chasing her.
She didn't know how she knew its name, but she felt it, like some primal instinct screaming in her bones. It wasn't just another infected—it was something worse. Something that shouldn't exist.
Up ahead, a rusted maintenance door stood slightly ajar. Without thinking, Evelyn dove inside, slamming it shut behind her. She stumbled backward, gasping, pressing her body against the cold steel.
A deep, guttural growl rumbled from the other side of the door. The metal dented inward as something massive struck it. Evelyn clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to silence her own breathing. The creature knew she was inside.
Then, slowly, the growling faded.
Evelyn waited, counting the seconds, forcing herself to stay still. When she was certain it had left, she exhaled shakily and turned, scanning the room.
It was some kind of storage area—rows of rusted shelves, old crates, and abandoned equipment scattered across the floor. The dim emergency lighting flickered, casting eerie shadows against the walls.
She needed to treat her wound before infection set in.
Evelyn rummaged through the shelves until she found an old med kit. It was covered in dust, but when she opened it, relief flooded through her—it still had antiseptic and bandages. She bit her lip as she cleaned the wound, the sting making her vision blur. Blood soaked through the gauze as she wrapped it tightly around her arm.
A soft, wet dripping sound.
Her entire body went rigid.
Slowly, she turned toward the far corner of the room.
A figure twitched in the shadows, its body hunched over, muscles convulsing. The air filled with the sound of labored, unnatural breathing.
It wasn't The Devourer. But it wasn't human, either.
Evelyn took a step back, but the motion triggered it.
The creature snapped its head up—its eyes milky white, its mouth stretching open in an unhinged, silent scream. It lunged.
Evelyn reacted on instinct, grabbing a rusted pipe from the shelf. As the infected crashed into her, she swung—hard. The pipe connected with its skull, sending it sprawling backward.
It shrieked, writhing, its body changing before her eyes. Its flesh pulsed, muscles tearing and reforming.
Evelyn's stomach twisted in horror.
The infection wasn't just spreading.
And she was trapped inside with it.