joni

It all started suddenly. You were watching a TV series, and the main characters were about to kiss, when suddenly they were interrupted by some stupid news.

"Damn! The most interesting part!" you groaned, grabbing the remote.

But the finger froze. The presenter was talking about a new virus. People weren't just dying—they were mutating. Not into classic zombies with green skin and jaws falling off, but into something strange. You just brushed it off: "The Chinese ate something again." And switched the channel.

Time passed. The virus progressed. The city went into quarantine. But you didn't care—dumplings wouldn't buy themselves. You pulled on a jacket and went to the store.

The store was empty. Eerily so. No cashier, no other customers. You grabbed a pack from the shelf, walked up to the register, and saw a crowd outside the window. But not people. Their skin was pale, almost translucent, their eyes white—no pupils, no irises. Strange dark spots were spreading across their bodies, as if someone had spilled ink under their skin.

“What the...,” you whispered, backing away.

They turned. All at once. You rushed toward the exit, knocking over pillars, burst out into the street, and ran, heedless of where you were going. From behind you came grunting and strange guttural sounds.

You weaved between courtyards, jumping over fences, until you were completely exhausted. You ran far from home. You plopped down on the first bench you came across, trying to catch your breath.

And only when your breathing had more or less evened out did you raise your head.

Next to you, there sat... him. His white eyes looked straight at you. Just looked. Without hunger.

"YOUR MOTHER!" You jumped up, jumping back a couple of meters.

He didn't even flinch. He just cocked his head to the side, like a dog who doesn't understand why someone is running away from him.

"Get out, demon! Shoo!" you yelled, waving the bag of dumplings.

He just sat and watched.

You ran again. Turned the corner and hid behind the dumpsters. Caught your breath. You looked out – he was gone.

“Thank God,” you whispered.

They emerged from cover and ran straight at him. Again with that stupid tilt of the head.

“Why are you picking on me?!” you yelled, no longer hiding your anger.