North Lincol announced itself before we actually reached it.
The first sign was the traffic. Not moving traffic. That would've been nice.
Cars were packed crookedly across the road leading into the district, some abandoned with their doors still hanging open, others pushed aside to make room for emergency vehicles that had come through sometime earlier. A city bus sat across two lanes with half its windows broken. Someone had painted a white arrow across its side in what looked suspiciously like house paint.
TRIAGE →
Hana saw it before I did.
She quickened her pace.
I caught the back of her bag.
"Slow down."
"But—" Her lips pressed together.
She didn't pull away, though.
The soundscape had changed as well. Lincol behind us had been scattered sirens and occasional gunshots. Here, the noise layered over itself. Engines running somewhere beyond the buildings. People shouting instructions. A helicopter circling high enough that the beating of its rotors came and went with the wind.
And underneath all of that, every so often—
Gunfire.
Short bursts.
Controlled.
The EDF was still operating here.
That should've been reassuring.
I kept the shovel ready anyway.
We followed the painted arrows.
The temporary triage site occupied the grounds between a community sports hall and two schools. Whoever organised it had done so in a hurry. White medical tents crowded the basketball courts, temporary fencing divided pedestrian lanes, and several buses had been parked sideways along the perimeter to form makeshift barriers. There were hundreds of people inside.
Maybe more.
The sight made Hana stop.
For four days, the world had been shrinking around us. Apartment. Corridor. Convenience store. One street at a time.
Suddenly there were people everywhere.
Doctors in masks.
EDF personnel.
Police officers.
Volunteers wearing coloured vests.
Families sitting on the pavement with bags between their feet.
Children crying.
An old man sleeping against a pillar while someone held an IV bag above him.
The smell reached us next.
Sweat. Disinfectant. Food. Blood.
Humanity.
Messy, loud, frightened humanity.
Hana's hand went to her mouth.
"...Mum."
Then she started moving. I followed quietly. The entrance had become a bottleneck. Two soldiers checked everyone coming in while a medical worker shouted questions over the noise.
"Any bites?"
"No."
"Recent contact with infected blood?"
"No."
"Fever? Vomiting? Confusion?"
"No."
"Anyone in your group injured?"
Hana shook her head.
I hesitated.
The medic looked at the dried blood on my clothes.
"That yours?"
"...Mostly not."
His eyes sharpened.
I immediately regretted the wording.
"No bites. No open wounds. It happened earlier."
"Show me your arms."
I did.
He checked quickly, then waved us through.
"Keep your masks on if you have them. Don't touch anyone you don't need to touch. If either of you starts feeling sick, report immediately."
"Got it."
"Also, that shovel. Put it over there, you can't come in with that."
Hana was already looking past him.
Rows of folding tables had been arranged inside the sports hall. Someone had taped handwritten ward numbers and hospital names to the walls.
CENTRAL GENERAL — TRANSFERRED PATIENTS
There.
Hana saw it too.
She ran. I let her. She's out of my hands now.
She pushed between people, apologising automatically whenever she brushed someone, eyes moving frantically across rows of stretchers.
I stayed a few metres behind. There were too many people. Too many uniforms. Too many eyes. I lowered my gaze unconsciously.
The purple marker sat at the edge of my vision.
1.1 km
Close.
The direction pointed beyond the northern edge of the triage site.
I dismissed it. Let's see this kid off properly first.
Hana stopped so suddenly that someone nearly walked into her. A woman was lying on a bed in one of the medical tents. Hospital clothes. A blanket around her shoulders, hair tied badly behind her head. There was a dressing around one forearm.
She looked like Hana's older sister. But that must be...
Hana stared. The woman looked up.
"Hana?" That was all it took. Hana ran into her.
"Mum!"
Her mother barely had time to get up before Hana wrapped both arms around her. Her mother made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
"What are you doing here? I told you not to come!"
Hana buried her face against her shoulder.
"I'm sorry."
"You stupid girl—"
"I'm sorry."
"Do you know how dangerous—"
"I know."
Her mother's voice broke.
Then she stopped talking. They just held each other. I turned away, it felt intrusive to watch. For the first time since we'd left the apartment, I realised I didn't actually have anything to do. That was strange.
I stood there with a backpack full of convenience-store food over my shoulders while a family reunited beside me.
A volunteer glanced at me. I pretended to be very interested in a nearby evacuation notice.
Several minutes passed, and eventually Hana's mother noticed me.
She wiped her face.
"Who's that?"
Hana looked back. For one horrible moment, I could see several possible introductions crossing her mind.
I narrowed my eyes.
"This is the mister I told you about."
Her mother looked at me.
"...Mister?"
"My name is—"
"He let me stay at his place."
That didn't sound better.
Her mother's expression changed.
I raised both hands slightly.
"She's seventeen. Nothing happened."
Hana stared at me. Her mother stared at me.
"...Why would you say that?"
"I don't know." I wanted to leave. Immediately.
Hana's mother started laughing. Quietly at first. Then harder.
Probably stress. Hopefully stress.
Hana looked mortified.
"You made it weird!"
"You introduced me like some suspicious uncle!"
"I didn't!"
"You absolutely did."
Her mother wiped at her eyes.
"Thank you." The laughter disappeared from her voice just as quickly as it had come.
"For looking after her."
"...Yeah." There wasn't much else to say.
I scratched the back of my neck.
"She helped too."
Hana looked at me thoughtfully. I didn't elaborate.
She had. That was enough. Her mother reached for her hand again.
"I thought..."
She didn't finish.
Neither did Hana.
They sat together.
I stepped away.
The purple marker returned the moment I allowed myself to think about it.
Still there. I walked toward the edge of the court, away from the medical tents. That was when I noticed how much EDF activity was moving north. A truck rolled through the service gate carrying six soldiers in the back. Another vehicle followed with equipment I didn't recognise.
Radio chatter spilled from a nearby command post.
"...impact object remains sealed..."
"...civilian movement around perimeter..."
"...negative on explosive signature..."
"...request additional containment..."
I slowed.
A captain standing near the map table pointed at something beyond the district.
"Second squad moves through Bishan Link. Keep civilians south of the cordon. We don't know what the hell that thing is."
Lunallu.
My stomach tightened. Of course. I'd dropped a four-star character out of the sky less than two kilometres from an active military position. What did I think would happen? I opened the Map again. The marker blinked steadily. Still unrecovered.
A shadow fell beside me.
Hana.
I closed the interface.
"Your mum okay?"
"Yeah."
Her eyes were swollen.
She looked happier than I'd seen her since the outbreak started. It felt strange seeing that expression on her.
"She hurt her arm when they evacuated Central General. That's all."
"Good."
"They're moving again tonight."
"Where?"
"She doesn't know."
That wasn't surprising.
Hana looked past me toward the northern gate.
Several soldiers were loading crates into a vehicle.
Then she looked back.
"You're going."
Not a question.
"I have to check something."
"The purple thing."
I didn't answer. That answered enough.
Hana's expression tightened.
"My mum said the soldiers are telling everyone not to go north."
"..."
"And you're going north."
"Unfortunately."
She stared at me for a while.
Then glanced toward the tent where her mother waited.
"You said you'd tell me when you understood what was happening."
A silence settled between us. People moved around us. Boots against concrete. Wheels rattling over temporary flooring. A baby crying somewhere inside the hall. Hana adjusted the strap of her bag.
"Come back."
I looked at her.
She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable.
"You still have my snacks."
I looked down.
She had, in fact, left half the convenience-store food in my backpack.
"I'll return one KitKat."
She smiled slightly, and accepted the chocolate.
Then went back to her mother. I watched her leave.
That was probably the sensible outcome, Hana had found what she came for.
...Now, for mine, I started moving.
The military cordon began about six hundred metres from the marker.
I didn't walk directly into it. I wasn't that stupid. The main road had been blocked by an armoured vehicle and temporary fencing. Soldiers redirected civilians south while another group checked buildings along the perimeter.
I turned down a side street instead. North Lincol was older here. Lower commercial blocks, narrow service lanes, covered parking areas. The sounds from the impact site bounced strangely between the buildings.
Engines. Shouting. Metal striking metal.
And occasionally—
Something else. A low electrical hum.
I stopped. The hair along my arms lifted.
"...Lu?" No response. Obviously. I checked the Map.
420 m.
I continued. The military presence grew thicker. I could no longer just wander toward the marker without being noticed.
So I climbed. There was a maintenance stairwell attached to an old multistorey carpark. The door had been forced open sometime earlier, and the upper levels overlooked most of the surrounding neighbourhood.
By the time I reached the fifth floor, my thighs hated me.
"Need to exercise..."
Assuming gyms continued existing.
I crouched behind a concrete barrier and looked north with my smartphone zoom.
There.
The impact site sat in the middle of what used to be a small public park.
Trees had been flattened outward from the centre.
Earth and broken pavement surrounded a shallow crater.
And inside it—
A pod. White. Roughly two metres tall. Purple light glowed through lines running along its surface.
Even from here, I could see mist curling around the base.
My heart started beating faster.
Lunallu. Actually there.
Around thirty EDF soldiers had established a perimeter. Several vehicles. Portable floodlights despite the afternoon sun. Two technicians in protective suits stood near the edge of the crater while soldiers kept rifles trained on the pod.
They hadn't opened it. Yet.
I exhaled, then noticed the civilians. Dozens had gathered beyond the cordon.
Some filmed. Some shouted questions. Others simply stared. A few looked like they'd come armed. Improvised weapons. Backpacks like mine. Desperation. The summon had done exactly what I'd feared.
They'd given people something new to want. Then I saw two men approaching from the western side of the park. Military uniforms, but something was off. They weren't moving with the EDF unit.
Their uniforms were dirtier, older. One carried a rifle slung low. The other limped slightly. They stopped behind an overturned vehicle overlooking the crater. The taller one raised binoculars. The shorter man said something. I couldn't hear them.
The taller one lowered the binoculars. Even at this distance, his posture changed. Alert.
"That's the one."
Corporal Rupert kept his voice low.
Reeds didn't answer immediately.
He watched the pod through the binoculars.
White shell. Purple glass. Exactly like the streak he'd seen descend across Lincol.
"Sir."
"I heard you." Rupert shifted against the wrecked car. His left leg was wrapped with a field dressing that had already begun turning dark near the knee. They'd been walking for nearly six hours. Neither had slept properly in two days. Their platoon no longer existed in any meaningful sense.
Some were dead. Some missing. A few had retreated south when the bridge line collapsed. Reeds had stopped counting after the radio died. Rupert looked toward the EDF perimeter.
"That's regular force." EDF soldiers kept their rifles trained on the object as if expecting it to explode.
"Yes."
"They see us, we're getting dragged back in."
Rupert rubbed his face. "...Can we get dragged back in somewhere with food?"
Reeds lowered the binoculars. "You've been bitching about food for three hours."
...
The pod bothered him.
It looked vaguely like a cryogenic chamber, if somebody had taken the concept and built it several decades ahead of anything Reeds had ever seen. It looked vaguely like a cryogenic chamber from some expensive science-fiction attraction, except nothing about the thing felt decorative up close. The front section appeared to be glass.
From where they stood, it reflected the grey afternoon sky and the trees around the crater with an oily purple sheen. Whenever Reeds shifted his angle, the reflection warped slightly, revealing traces of depth beneath the surface before turning black again. There might have been something inside.
Or nothing. The EDF technicians were having the same problem. One of them dragged a portable scanner slowly along the chamber's side. Another stood farther back with a device mounted on a tripod, its display hidden from Reeds at this distance. They exchanged a few words.
Then repeated the scan.
Rupert scratched beneath the edge of his helmet.
"Is it really an alien? You think aliens have good medicine?"
Reeds lowered the binoculars, and watched his subordinate adjust his injured leg. The bandage had started bothering him more over the last hour, though he'd stopped mentioning it. Reeds knew because Rupert only became quiet about an injury once it actually hurt.
Below them, one of the technicians directed a bright lamp straight at the blackened glass. Nothing penetrated. The light simply reflected back.
"They can't see shit through it," Reeds concluded.
"Thermal?"
"Probably tried."
"X-ray?"
"Maybe."
"...Shoot it?"
Reeds looked at his subordinate.
"What, I'm contributing ideas."
The EDF had established a fairly competent perimeter considering the situation. Two squads around the immediate crater. Another spread along the surrounding roads. Vehicles positioned to block direct access from the east and south.
The civilians were the larger problem.
News travelled fast even without functioning networks. A dozen people became thirty. Thirty became fifty. More gathered along the footpaths and behind the fencing, phones held above their heads whenever the soldiers weren't shouting at them to back away. One young man had climbed onto the roof of a bus shelter for a better view.
Idiots survived remarkably long when nobody had the time to stop them. Reeds raised the binoculars again. A soldier near the northern barricade suddenly turned. Several others followed. Something was happening beyond the row of shops.
"Movement."
Rupert immediately stopped leaning.
"Where?"
"North road."
Rupert shifted around the car and raised his rifle scope.
Three people emerged between the buildings.
Teenagers.
Maybe older.
Hard to tell from here.
Five, Reeds corrected himself when another two appeared behind them.
They moved in a loose group. Street clothes. Backpacks. One carried what looked like a baseball bat. Another had a long metal pole resting across his shoulder.
The soldiers intercepted them before they got anywhere near the cordon.
There was an argument.
A lot of pointing toward the crater.
"They came for it," Rupert said.
"Obviously."
"Think they saw it land?"
"Everyone saw it land."
One of the teenagers tried moving around the soldier.
A rifle came up.
That ended the discussion quickly.
They backed away. Didn't leave.
Just retreated toward the edge of the crowd.
Reeds kept watching. The group wasn't alone.
Three office workers approached from another street not long after. Two men and a woman. Clothes dirty, jackets gone, one of them carrying an umbrella despite the fact it hadn't rained all day.
"That's a weapon now?" Rupert asked.
"You ever been hit with one? It hurts."
Another figure appeared behind the office workers.
Girl. Hoodie. Headphones hanging around her neck. She walked alone. No visible weapon. Didn't seem especially interested in the soldiers or the crowd. She stopped well away from everyone else and leaned against a wall with both hands inside her pockets.
Reeds watched her for a moment longer than necessary.
Then, the EDF technician nearest the pod placed one hand against its exterior.
Purple light moved beneath his glove.
He recoiled.
Every rifle around the crater rose.
Nothing else happened.
The technician looked at his hand.
Then tried again.
This time the surface remained dark.
Rupert leaned forward.
"Did you see that?"
"Yes."
"It's reacting to touch."
"Maybe. Biometric?"
Reeds glanced at him.
Rupert shrugged. "I watch science fiction."
The technician called someone over. Another scanner came out. The purple lines running along the chamber's frame brightened briefly, flowing upward before dimming again.
Still no opening. Still no view inside. Whatever mechanism controlled the thing had acknowledged contact. It just hadn't accepted it. Reeds felt something cold settle in his stomach. That was worse than a machine that didn't respond. Something had decided not to open.
A burst of gunfire sounded several streets away. The crowd flinched almost as one. Soldiers turned toward the sound. A few civilians began backing away. Another burst followed.
Closer.
Rupert checked his magazine automatically.
"That'll be them."
"Probably."
The infected had been following noise all afternoon.
Helicopters. Sirens. Engines. Then this.
The man that seemed like the commander amidst the ranks clearly reached the same conclusion. Orders went out quickly. Soldiers shifted from the crater toward the approaches, leaving fewer rifles directly on the pod.
The technicians started packing some of their equipment.
"They're going to move it," Rupert said.
Reeds watched two soldiers wheel a heavy transport frame toward the crater.
"Trying to."
A technician attached something to the chamber's base.
The device beeped.
He tried another point.
Another beep.
Then shook his head.
The chamber hadn't buried itself particularly deep.
And yet nobody managed to move it.
Four soldiers eventually joined them.
They pushed.
Nothing.
A fifth came over.
Still nothing.
Rupert stared through his scope.
"...How heavy is that thing?"
"Heavy."
"It's sitting in dirt. It should move."
More shouting came from the north.
The first infected appeared between the buildings.
One. Then three. Then considerably more. The civilians finally started moving. Some ran immediately. Others hesitated, as if entranced by the alien egg. The teenage group scattered toward one side of the park. The office workers went the other. The girl in the hoodie barely moved until the first scream came from behind the crowd. Then she calmly stepped away from the wall.
Rupert swore under his breath.
"That's a lot."
Twenty. Thirty. More behind them.
The EDF opened fire. Controlled bursts cracked through the park.
Bodies dropped. Others climbed over them.
The cordon broke apart almost immediately as civilians surged south.
A woman fell. Someone stepped over her. A soldier grabbed a child by the back of his shirt and practically threw him over a barricade before turning and firing again.
The pod remained in the middle of it all, untouched by the panic around it.
Rupert started moving, and Reeds caught his shoulder.
"Where?"
"We should help."
"We're outside their chain of command."
"They're getting swarmed."
"And you're injured."
Rupert looked at his leg.
"Still works."
Another scream.
Reeds' jaw tightened.
Then a military truck reversed too quickly, struck a parked car and blocked half the western exit.
The infected were splitting around the park now.
Some followed the fleeing civilians.
Others ran directly toward the gunfire.
Several reached the perimeter.
The EDF line folded inward.
Reeds made the decision.
"Three magazines."
Rupert looked at him.
"That's it?"
"We don't know when we're getting resupplied."
"You're fucking stingy."
"Save your shots."
Rupert grinned and raised his rifle.
"Yes, sir."
They fired.
I saw the crowd start running before I heard why.
From the carpark, people suddenly spilled away from the impact site in every direction. EDF soldiers repositioned along the northern side of the park. Then the gunfire began.
"...Shit." I lowered my phone.
The System marker remained exactly where it had been.
387 m.
I moved toward the stairwell. Then stopped.
Thirty soldiers. Infected. Civilians. Two unidentified military guys.
My brain offered several extremely reasonable arguments for waiting.
The System interrupted them.
"..."
Gunfire became heavier. I looked over the barrier again. The northern side of the park was collapsing. Infected poured through the road between two buildings. The EDF were holding them, but every shot dragged more toward the area.
One of the technicians remained beside the pod. Another soldier grabbed him and pulled him away. Nobody could move the chamber.
A bullet struck its side. Purple light rippled across the shell. No damage.
Then several infected entered the crater. They slammed directly into the pod, but it didn't even budge. The three infected began circling the crater instead. The soldiers were retreating toward the southern barricade. If they abandoned the site entirely, I might actually have an opening.
That thought should not have made me happy.
I descended the stairwell. Fast. My legs complained after the second floor. I ignored them. By the time I reached ground level, the gunfire sounded close enough to feel inside my chest.
PZ400.
Blue light gathered around my hand.
The pistol appeared.
I checked the road.
Clear.
For now.
I moved.
Reeds fired twice.
Two infected dropped. Rupert fired beside him.
Three shots. One body.
"You're getting worse."
"Moving targets."
"They're running directly toward you."
"That's movement." Reeds changed magazines.
The EDF had noticed them now. One soldier pointed in their direction.
Another shouted something they couldn't hear over the gunfire.
Nobody shot at them.
The infected nearest the western road suddenly turned.
Not toward Reeds. Past him. Someone was running through the service lane. Civilian.
Male. Backpack. Handgun.
Reeds raised the binoculars for half a second.
Where did he come from?
He didn't recognise the hand gun the man was holding.
Then the civilian fired. Missed. Fired again. Hit. Third shot dropped the infected.
Rupert watched him.
"...Who the fuck is that?"
"No idea."
The man kept moving toward the park.
Not away. Toward.
Reeds stared. Every sane civilian had spent the last minute trying to leave.
This one was entering through the side.
"He wants the pod," Rupert said.
Maybe. The man stopped behind a concrete planter and looked toward the crater.
The chamber's purple lines brightened.
Reeds frowned. Was that a coincidence?
The civilian moved again.
The light followed. The lines across the pod grew brighter the closer he came.
Rupert slowly lowered his rifle.
"Sir."
"I see it."
The civilian reached the edge of the park, taking out the infected near the pod. He was burning through ammunition to do it.
Then...
The chamber pulsed once.
Bright violet.
Several EDF soldiers noticed.
One turned from the infected.
Then another.
The civilian hadn't even touched it yet.
And the machine already knew he was there.