Rain clung to our skin like regret.
We ran.
Soaked, breathless, boots slapping against the concrete as the narrow alley gave way to open streets. Behind us, the school burned in silence—flames licking through shattered windows like a warning we could never return.
Eleven of us.
Just eleven.
My legs burned, lungs aching with each breath, but we didn't stop. We couldn't. Every shadow could be death now.
I glanced sideways. Ananya was running beside me, expression locked—sharp, determined. Ayesha trailed just behind, her eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. Kartik led the front, with Shivam right on his heels, soaked hair plastered to his forehead.
No one spoke.
Because silence was safer now.
We ducked behind an abandoned tea stall near the edge of the block, taking cover under its rusted tin roof. The sound of rain hitting metal was deafening. Thunder rolled in the distance.
Kartik raised a hand. Everyone stopped.
"Check headcount," he said, voice low.
I turned, counting quickly. One by one, their eyes met mine.
Lucky. Dev. Manish. Shivam. Tanya. Sanaa. Bhargav. Isha. Ayesha. Ananya. Kartik. Me.
Still eleven.
Still alive.
"We need shelter," Ananya said, breathing heavily. "Not just a hiding spot. Somewhere we can hold up, dry off, make a plan."
"There's a mechanic's garage two blocks away," Dev offered. "Big metal shutters. Used to be my dad's friend's place."
"I know it," Kartik nodded. "It's defensible."
"But it's also exposed," I added. "If the infected are out in numbers, we might lead them right to it."
A long silence followed. The only answer was rain and the far-off sound of something breaking—glass, maybe. Or bones.
"Then we scout first," Ananya said. "Two of us. Quiet, quick."
"I'll go," Kartik said immediately.
"No," I cut in. "You're the anchor here. If something happens to you—"
"I'm going," she said, already pulling up her hood.
There was no arguing with Ananya when she looked like that.
Ten minutes later
I followed her through side alleys, crouched low, stepping over fallen power lines and broken crates. The air smelled like iron and ash. The city—our city—was different now. Hollow. Like it had exhaled its last breath and given up.
"We're not going back to school," I whispered.
Ananya nodded without looking. "It's gone."
The garage appeared ahead. One-story building, rusted signage, metal shutters intact.
She raised a hand. We froze.
Movement inside.
Shadows flickering past a broken window.
Then—silence again.
We crept to the side, stepping over scattered tires and a toppled scooter. She found a broken side window and peered in.
Two bodies.
Adults.
Not infected—but not alive either.
Ananya's expression didn't change. She simply turned back to me and whispered, "Clear. But grim."
"Will it hold?"
"It'll have to."
We returned and led the others to the garage. No one asked questions. They were too tired. Too shaken.
We moved the bodies out to the back alley and shut the side door.
Inside, it was dry.
That was enough.
Bhargav found an old gas lamp and lit it. Dim orange glow bathed the room in warmth. Tools hung from the walls, wrenches and spanners now looking more like weapons than anything else.
I dropped against the cold floor, breath coming in short bursts.
It hit me then.
We were still alive.
But the world we knew was gone.
"Is this it?" Lucky finally asked. "Are we… are we alone now?"
"We're never alone in a city," Ananya replied, voice flat. "But we might wish we were."
Kartik pulled out an old blueprint from a tool chest — a floor plan of the building. "This place has a basement. Storage room. Could be useful."
"We'll set shifts," I said. "Two people awake at all times. In pairs. We rotate every two hours."
No one argued.
For the first time since the madness began, we felt... stable. Not safe. Never safe. But stable.
Midnight.
The rain had lessened, but thunder still rumbled like distant artillery.
I was on watch with Ananya. Everyone else had curled into corners of the garage, trying to rest. Kartik slept sitting up, arms crossed. Tanya leaned against Sanaa. Bhargav's lighter flicked on and off beside him like a nervous tick.
"Why didn't you panic back there?" I asked her softly, eyes on the shutter.
"I've seen panic," she said. "It doesn't save anyone."
"You think we'll survive this?"
"I think we'll try."
Her words were like steel — sharp and true. I nodded slowly, then turned my gaze outside, toward the broken world waiting beyond the shutter.
I didn't know what came next.
But I knew this:
We were no longer kids in uniforms with dreams of exams and break-time pranks.
We were something else now.
Something new.
Somewhere far away
A military officer stood in front of a monitor. His face grim. Eyes fixed on a blinking red dot marking our district.
"Infection confirmed," a voice said through a radio.
The officer didn't blink.
"Seal the zone."
Back in the garage
I wrote it down in my notebook.
Day 1: We escaped. We're not out. But we're not gone.
[End of Chapter 2]