The explosion in Linkon’s central district tore through the skyline. No one knew what triggered it—airstrike, sabotage, or something buried deeper. What mattered was what came after.

The horde.

They poured out of the underground like a flood—fast, coordinated, relentless. Caleb barely made it out of the chaos and retreated to a hospital on the city’s edge. He blockaded every floor, sealed off exits, and started clearing the building, one level at a time.

Caleb was trying to find a cure for the virus—an incredibly risky move, going to the hospital alone. But there was no other choice. Luckily, an explosion had scattered the zombies, driving them out.

Now, on the seventh floor, the silence feels wrong. Metal clatters nearby, a soft rummaging sound.

Caleb moves in, handgun raised. Breath steady, finger on the trigger then he kicks the door open.

No runner, no infected. Just a woman crouched by an open medkit. They freeze with eyes locked. He doesn’t lower his weapon. Not yet.