Dawn painted the eastern sky in muted oranges and pinks as Elena slipped through the narrow gap in the chain-link fence surrounding the construction site. The half-finished office building provided excellent cover—its skeletal frame casting long shadows that concealed her movement from both human and inhuman eyes.

  She wore dark, practical clothing with her hair secured tightly beneath a dark cap. The backpack on her shoulders contained empty sample containers, basic tools, and a few precious protein bars. The weight of Rivera's 9mm pressed against her lower back, its presence both reassuring and disturbing. Elena had never fired a gun before the outbreak. Now, she knew the precise pressure required on the trigger and how to account for recoil, though she'd only discharged it during Rivera's brief training sessions.

  From her vantage point on the third floor of the construction site, Elena surveyed the hospital complex. General Hospital's imposing main building stood retively intact, though many windows were shattered and abandoned ambunces littered the emergency bay. The research wing—her destination—was the smaller building connected by an enclosed walkway to the main structure.

  Elena consulted her mental map, comparing it with the actual ndscape. The approach she'd pnned remained viable—across the parking structure, through the service entrance, then navigating the basement corridors to reach the research wing. Avoiding the main hospital was critical; too many had died there in the early days, making it likely hunting ground for the transformed.

  She descended the construction site's exposed stairwell silently, pausing at each nding to listen and observe. At the ground level, she darted between concrete pilrs until she reached the parking structure. The morning light barely penetrated its depths, forcing Elena to move slower, relying more on touch than sight. She counted support columns as she passed them—a navigation technique that had served her well in previous scavenging missions.

  A sudden scuffling sound froze her in pce. Elena pressed herself against a concrete wall, controlling her breathing as she'd practiced. The noise came again—too small for one of the transformed. Probably rats. They'd flourished in the aftermath, adapting faster than humans to the new world order.

  The hospital service entrance was secured with a heavy chain, but the adjacent window had been shattered. Elena carefully cleared the remaining gss from the frame before slipping through, nding in what had been a receiving area for medical supplies. Shelves stood empty, cabinets flung open from previous looters. Still, she methodically checked each drawer and compartment—experience had taught her that panicked scavengers often missed valuable items in their haste.

  Her thoroughness was rewarded with a cache of surgical masks and several packages of sterile syringes still sealed in their packaging. These went into her backpack before she consulted the emergency floor pn mounted on the wall. Though she'd worked in the research wing, the basement connectors between buildings were unfamiliar territory.

  The map confirmed her route, and Elena proceeded cautiously, using her small penlight when absolutely necessary. The basement corridor stretched before her, dark and silent except for the occasional drip of water from damaged pipes. The air held the musty scent of abandonment overid with something else—something coppery and sharp that set her nerves on edge.

  She recognized it immediately: blood. Old blood.

  Elena quickened her pace, moving with practiced silence despite her growing unease. The corridor fed into a rger underground junction where guidance signs pointed to different hospital sectors. The research wing was indicated by a blue arrow, partially obscured by dark stains Elena chose not to examine too closely.

  As she turned down the blue-arrowed corridor, a distant crash echoed from the main hospital building. Elena froze, listening intently. The sound wasn't repeated, but she could sense subtle vibrations in the floor—movement somewhere above. She pressed forward with renewed urgency. Whatever was moving upstairs, she had no desire to encounter it.

  The research wing entrance required keycard access, but power failures had rendered electronic security useless. Elena used a small pry bar from her pack to force the door, wincing at the metal's protest. Once inside, she wedged a broken chair under the handle—a minimal defense, but better than nothing.

  Diffuse natural light filtered through dust-covered windows, illuminating the research wing's main corridor. Unlike the chaotic main hospital, this area showed signs of deliberate evacuation—equipment covered with protective sheets, documents filed rather than scattered. The researchers had left with the intention of returning.

  Elena moved purposefully toward the Advanced Immunology Lab where she'd briefly worked on a joint university project. Her footsteps echoed slightly despite her caution—unavoidable on the polished floors. She passed darkened boratories with equipment worth millions, now silent monuments to scientific progress interrupted.

  The Immunology Lab doors stood partially open, a b coat still hanging on a hook nearby as if its owner had just stepped out for coffee. Elena surveyed the room systematically before entering, noting with relief that the b had backup power systems separate from the main hospital grid. If they were still functional, she might be able to use the more advanced equipment.

  She set her backpack on a clean section of counter and began collecting what she needed—micropipettes, centrifuge tubes, reagents still viable in their refrigerated storage. The portable microscope was a particurly valuable find, as was the small blood analyzer that could run on battery power. Each item was carefully wrapped and stowed in her backpack according to priority.

  While gathering supplies, Elena discovered a cabinet containing research files. She flipped through them quickly, searching for anything reted to immunological responses or viral mutations. Most were standard research documentation, but a partially burned folder beled "Anomalous Antibody Profiles" caught her attention. She scanned the charred contents—most was unreadable, but fragments mentioned "unprecedented binding capacity" and "regenerative potential in subject 7734."

  Elena checked the subject identification number against her memory. All research participants were assigned anonymous identifiers, and she recalled her own from the university studies—7734. These were notes about her blood samples. She slipped the damaged file into her pack alongside the equipment.

  With the essential items secured, Elena turned her attention to the b's backup power system. The generators were designed to maintain critical equipment during outages, and if she could activate them, she might use the PCR machine to analyze Miguel's samples on-site rather than trying to transport the bulky equipment.

  The backup system control panel was located in a small room adjacent to the main b. Elena found it in standby mode, having switched to minimal power conservation after weeks without human intervention. Following the restart protocols she'd been taught during her brief employment, she carefully powered up the system. Indicator lights flickered hesitantly before stabilizing—success.

  Back in the main b, she watched with satisfaction as essential equipment hummed to life. The PCR machine began its self-diagnostic sequence, and the centrifuge's digital dispy illuminated. Elena worked quickly, preparing Miguel's blood samples for analysis. The machine would need twenty minutes to complete its cycle—longer than she wanted to stay, but the results would be worth the risk.

  While the analysis ran, Elena explored the surrounding offices, searching for additional research documentation. In the department head's office, she found a ptop still containing its battery. On a whim, she pressed the power button—and was surprised when it actually booted up. The battery indicator showed 13% remaining—enough for a quick search.

  The ptop contained encrypted research files, but Elena found a folder of email correspondence accessible without passwords. She scanned quickly, noting exchanges between researchers discussing "anomalous subjects" and "variant responses to experimental compound RX-72." One email thread caught her attention: a heated discussion about ethical protocols being bypassed for certain test subjects with unique blood markers.

  Elena's name appeared in one message: "Subject 7734 (E. Reeves) shows the most promising antibody response. Recommend immediate transfer to secure facility for advanced trials."

  The message was dated three days before the outbreak.

  A notification from the PCR machine drew her back to the b. The analysis had completed, dispying results on its screen. Elena stared at the data, her scientific mind immediately grasping the implications. Miguel's blood contained traces of the transformation virus, but in a form she hadn't seen before—partially bonded to his white blood cells rather than overwhelming them.

  "Some kind of intermediate stage," she murmured, quickly transferring the data to a USB drive she'd found in the office. "Or partial immunity."

  The sound of a door opening somewhere in the research wing snapped her attention away from the results. Elena quickly powered down the equipment, hoping to avoid detection. She gathered her pack and moved toward the b's secondary exit, pnning to circle back to the basement corridor.

  Voices echoed down the hallway—human voices. After weeks of avoiding the transformed, Elena's first instinct was relief, but she tempered it with caution. Not all human survivors were allies.

  "...definitely picked up readings on this floor," a male voice said. "Electromagnetic signature from powered equipment."

  "Could be automated systems," another voice responded.

  "Negative. Power fluctuations indicate recent activation. Someone's here."

  Elena moved silently through the adjacent boratory, heading for the stairwell. Whoever these people were, they had functioning equipment for detecting power usage—suggesting organization and resources beyond what most survivor groups possessed.

  She had nearly reached the stairwell door when a voice called out, "Stop right there!"

  Elena froze, calcuting her options. The command had come from behind, but she hadn't heard anyone approach—these people moved quietly, professionally. She turned slowly, hands visible.

  Four figures stood in tactical formation, wearing mismatched body armor but moving with military precision. Each carried a weapon—not the makeshift variety most survivors wielded, but actual firearms with modifications Elena didn't recognize. Their leader, a man with cropped gray hair and the bearing of a career soldier, stepped forward.

  "Identify yourself," he ordered, his weapon not quite pointed at her but ready to be.

  "Elena Reeves," she answered calmly. "I'm gathering medical supplies and research materials."

  The leader's eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Who's your group? Where are you based?"

  Elena hesitated, unwilling to reveal the subway maintenance room location. "I'm with a small community. We have wounded who need medical attention."

  A younger man with a device in his hands stepped closer, pointing it toward Elena. The device emitted a soft, rhythmic beep that accelerated as it neared her.

  "Sir," he said tensely, "I'm getting readings."

  The leader's expression hardened. "Empty your pack. Slowly."

  Elena complied, carefully pcing her collected medical supplies and documents on the floor. "These are for treating injuries and illness. I was a researcher before the outbreak."

  The man with the device circled her, his expression growing increasingly suspicious as the beeping continued even with her pack emptied. "It's not the equipment," he said. "It's her."

  The leader approached, staying just beyond arm's reach. "What are you?"

  "What do you mean?" Elena asked, genuine confusion in her voice.

  "The detector doesn't lie." He gestured to the device. "It identifies their biochemical signature. You're registering positive."

  Elena's scientific mind raced to understand. "That's impossible. I'm human. I've never been bitten or exposed directly to the transformed."

  "Roll up your sleeves," the leader ordered. "Show your neck."

  Elena complied, revealing unmarked skin. The group exchanged gnces, clearly confused by the contradiction between their detector and her appearance.

  "Could be a new type," suggested a woman with a scar running down her cheek. "Intelligence gathering. They're evolving."

  "I'm a medical researcher," Elena insisted, pointing to the supplies. "I'm investigating a possible mutation in the virus. One of our group is showing unusual symptoms—not transformation, but something different."

  The leader considered this, then nodded to one of his team who stepped forward and took a sample of blood from Elena's finger before she could protest. He pced the drop on a small slide and inserted it into a handheld device simir to a glucose meter.

  After a moment, he looked up in surprise. "Blood reads as human, but there's something else. Some kind of marker I haven't seen before."

  The leader's expression shifted from suspicion to clinical interest. "Bring her. The doctors will want to see this."

  "Wait," Elena protested as two of the group moved to fnk her. "I have people depending on me. They need these supplies and the information I've gathered."

  "You're in no position to negotiate," the leader replied. "You're either a new kind of infiltrator, or you're carrying something in your blood that registers on our equipment. Either way, you're coming back to base for examination."

  Elena felt a chill at his clinical tone. "What kind of examination?"

  The scarred woman smiled thinly. "Don't worry. Dr. Marshall is very thorough in his dissections. We've learned quite a bit about their physiology."

  "I'm human," Elena insisted, backing toward the stairwell. "Run whatever tests you want, but I need to return to my group first."

  "That won't be possible," the leader said, signaling his team to close in. "Secure her. Minimal damage—the blood work is what matters."

  Elena calcuted her odds. Four trained fighters with advanced weapons versus her limited combat training and Rivera's pistol. Not favorable. But the casual mention of dissection suggested cooperation might be equally dangerous.

  "Listen to me," she tried again, her scientific mind searching for leverage. "I'm researching the virus variants. The data I've collected could help understand why some people transform immediately while others show resistance. If you're studying them scientifically, we should be colborating, not—"

  "Colboration requires trust," the leader cut her off. "And my detector says you're not entirely human. So we do this the hard way." He nodded to his team. "Take her."

  As they closed in, Elena made her decision. She dropped to the floor, sweeping her leg as Rivera had taught her to momentarily destabilize the closest attacker. In the confusion, she grabbed her pack and bolted through the stairwell door.

  "Containment protocol!" the leader shouted behind her. "Non-lethal methods only!"

  Elena descended the stairs two at a time, hearing pursuers above. The basement level would give her the best chance—dark, complex corridors she'd already navigated once. She burst through the stairwell exit into the dim basement hallway, immediately cutting left instead of right toward her original entry point. Misdirection was her only advantage.

  The basement corridor forked, and Elena took the path toward the main hospital—a calcuted risk. The hunting party would expect her to flee toward safety, not deeper into dangerous territory. She ducked into what had been a storage room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Footsteps pounded past her hiding pce as multiple pursuers spread through the corridors. Elena controlled her breathing, pressing herself against the wall beside the door. Through a small crack, she could see figures moving with tactical precision, using hand signals to coordinate their search.

  "Remember, we need her intact," the leader's voice echoed in the corridor. "The biological samples are priority one."

  Elena silently inventoried her options. The room had no other exits. Eventually, they would search here. She needed a distraction.

  From her pack, she retrieved a small vial of chemicals she'd collected from the b—alcohol-based reagents. Quickly, she created a simple deyed reaction using materials at hand—the scientific knowledge that had once been used for research now repurposed for survival.

  She slipped out of the storage room when the corridor momentarily cleared, leaving her chemical diversion behind. Thirty seconds ter, a sharp crack and fsh erupted from the room as the chemicals ignited, followed by billowing smoke.

  Shouts of arm echoed through the basement as the hunting party converged on the distraction. Elena used the confusion to move deeper into the main hospital building, searching for alternative exits. The first floor emergency department would have multiple access points.

  She located a service elevator shaft and began climbing the maintenance dder within it—a route unlikely to be immediately checked. Emerging into a darkened corridor of the main hospital, Elena oriented herself toward the emergency department, moving as silently as possible.

  The hospital's main building was in significantly worse condition than the research wing—evidence of chaotic evacuation and subsequent looting. Overturned gurneys blocked hallways, and dark stains mapped the floor in grim patterns. The air held the unmistakable copper-sweet scent of old blood mixed with antiseptic.

  Elena froze at a sound from a darkened patient room—a soft, wet tearing she recognized with instinctive dread. Something was feeding. She backed away silently, seeking another route.

  Behind her, voices approached from the basement access—her pursuers had not been deyed for long. Caught between the hunting party and whatever lurked in the shadows ahead, Elena ducked into a small consultation room, closing the door almost completely but leaving a narrow gap to monitor the corridor.

  The hunting party emerged into the main corridor, their leader directing teams in different directions. Their methodical approach confirmed Elena's impression of military training. One phrase caught her attention as they coordinated:

  "...potential new strain, possibly dormant carrier. Priority capture for experimental protocols."

  Elena's scientific mind processed the implications. They weren't just hunting the transformed—they were studying them, experimenting on them. And now they intended to add her to their subjects, all because of some unexpined reading on their detection equipment.

  The group split up, two members heading directly toward her location. Elena pressed herself behind the door, gripping Rivera's pistol but desperately hoping to avoid using it. The noise would attract not only the hunting party but potentially the transformed feeding nearby.

  As footsteps approached her hiding pce, a crash echoed from further down the corridor, followed by an inhuman shriek. The hunting team immediately redirected, moving toward the sound with weapons raised.

  "Contact, east corridor!" one shouted into a radio. "Multiple hostiles!"

  The sounds of combat erupted—controlled gunfire mixed with feral screams. Elena used the distraction to slip from her hiding pce, moving in the opposite direction. The emergency department should be just ahead, past the central nurses' station.

  She rounded the corner and found herself facing the scarred woman from the hunting party, who had apparently circled around during the commotion.

  "Thought you'd use the distraction," the woman said, raising a weapon that looked like a modified tranquilizer gun. "Smart. But not smart enough."

  Elena backed away slowly. "You're making a mistake. I'm human—a researcher. Whatever your equipment is detecting, it's not transformation."

  "That's for Dr. Marshall to determine," the woman replied, advancing steadily. "Your blood readings are unlike anything we've seen. Could be the key to understanding them, maybe even developing countermeasures."

  "I'm studying the same thing," Elena insisted. "We should be working together, not treating me like a b specimen."

  Something flickered in the woman's eyes—perhaps doubt. "Protocol is clear. Unknown readings mean containment and analysis."

  "And does 'analysis' typically involve dissection while the subject is still alive?" Elena asked, continuing to back toward the emergency department doors visible behind the woman.

  The hunter's expression hardened again. "Sometimes sacrifices are necessary. The data we've gathered has already saved lives."

  "At what cost to your humanity?" Elena challenged.

  The woman's finger tightened on the trigger. "Humanity is a luxury we can't afford anymore."

  Before she could fire, a commotion erupted from the corridor Elena had just left—screams and gunfire, then silence. The woman's attention wavered for just a moment, but it was enough. Elena lunged forward, striking the weapon aside with techniques Rivera had drilled into her. The tranquilizer dart discharged harmlessly into a wall as they grappled.

  The hunter was stronger and better trained, but Elena's desperation lent her strength. They crashed against a medication cart, sending vials and instruments cttering to the floor. Elena's hand closed around a metal tray, which she swung at her attacker's head. The woman dodged but lost her grip on Elena's arm.

  Elena broke free and sprinted toward the emergency exit, hearing the hunter shouting into her radio behind her: "Subject heading for emergency bay doors! All units converge!"

  The emergency department was cavernous and dark, abandoned equipment creating an obstacle course. Elena navigated by memory and the faint light filtering through dirt-streaked windows. The ambunce bay doors were ahead—closed but hopefully not sealed.

  She reached the doors and found the manual release lever. With a tremendous effort, she forced it downward, and the security door began to rise—too slowly. Elena dropped to the ground and rolled beneath the rising door, emerging into the ambunce bay dimly lit by morning sunlight.

  Freedom was tantalizingly close, but as Elena rose to her feet, she found herself surrounded. The hunting party had anticipated her route, positioning team members at all potential exits. The gray-haired leader stood directly before her, fnked by two others with weapons trained on her.

  "Enough running," he said calmly. "You're clearly resourceful, and obviously intelligent. Those qualities make you even more valuable to our research."

  Elena gnced around, seeking any avenue of escape, but found none. "What exactly do you think I am?"

  "That's what we intend to find out," he replied. "Your blood contains markers we've only seen in the transformed, yet you maintain human appearance and cognition. You could be patient zero for a new variation, or perhaps naturally resistant. Either way, Dr. Marshall will be extremely interested in studying you."

  "You mean dissecting me," Elena corrected, backing against the partially raised door.

  A younger hunter spoke up. "The procedure is necessary. We've identified major weaknesses in their physiology through simir examinations."

  "And how many of those 'examinations' involved subjects who could still talk to you? Who were still human?" Elena demanded.

  "That's the point," the leader said. "We don't know what you are. And in this world, unknown variables are threats until proven otherwise."

  Elena's hand closed around Rivera's pistol at her back. Eight rounds. Four targets visible, probably more nearby. Not good odds, but better than becoming an experimental subject.

  "I won't be your boratory specimen," she said firmly.

  The leader sighed. "You don't have a choice. Secure her."

  As the hunters moved forward, Elena raised the pistol. "Stay back!"

  They hesitated, reassessing the situation. The leader gestured to his team to spread out, preparing to fnk her.

  "The blood analysis will be our first priority," the scarred woman said, retrieving equipment from a case. "Then neurological response testing. If the results confirm anomalous readings, we'll proceed with tissue sampling from major organs."

  "While I'm still alive," Elena said, her back pressed against the partially raised emergency door, the gun steady despite her fear.

  "Of course," the leader confirmed without emotion. "Live specimens provide the most accurate data."

  Elena kept the gun trained on the leader, knowing she was outnumbered but unwilling to surrender to their clinical brutality. Her scientific mind continued calcuting escape probabilities even as the hunters closed in from multiple angles.

  Suddenly, she heard movement from the partially open emergency door behind her. The hunters heard it too, weapons swinging toward the doorway.

  "Contact!" one shouted as a figure emerged from the shadows with inhuman speed.

  Gunfire erupted around Elena as she pressed herself against the wall, watching in shock as something—or someone—tore through the hunting party with terrifying efficiency. Her scientific mind cataloged what she was witnessing: whatever had emerged from the hospital moved with purpose, not the feral frenzy of the transformed she'd previously observed.

  Precision. Control. Intelligence.

  The hunters scrambled to reposition, their coordinated tactics dissolving into chaos.