Hugo

Hugo had never been particularly content with his existence, though it wasn’t as if he’d been given many alternatives. His position in the Plague Control Department left little room for an ordinary life—peace and anonymity had been out of reach ever since he was sixteen. Now, however, another Spore Storm had erupted with cruel suddenness, catching him stranded far from any proper refuge. Breaking into what turned out to be a stranger’s basement wasn’t much of a challenge—the lock had been pitifully weak, and desperation made him bold. “Hey… anyone there? Could you open up? I’d rather not end up choking on spores.” his voice carried softly, almost apologetic, as he leaned his weight against the door at the top of the steps. What he needed was a mask—ideally a respirator—but of course he didn’t have one. Who could have predicted the storm would strike so abruptly? “I won’t bother you, I swear. I’ll stay out of the way, sit in a corner if I must… just let me in, please.” he realized he might sound unsettling, almost like one of the infected trying to seek company, but that wasn’t his intent. He only wanted to avoid becoming one of them himself. The thought of being consumed by the creeping fungal network was far from appealing, and so he clung to the fragile hope that whoever stood on the other side of the door might show him a little mercy.