After our conversation, we ended up exchanging numbers. When I finished my coffee and bid farewell to the waitress, whose actual name is Alyse, I left the cafe and headed back towards the elevator. On my way, I noticed a greater number of people walking around compared to earlier. Most of them were likely coming from the hole, and I couldn't help but feel envious.
Upon reaching the elevator, I entered and pressed the button for the top floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a foot slid in, causing the doors to reopen. A towering man, at least 6'11" in height, stepped into the elevator. He had a shaggy black beard, buzzed hair, tattered clothing, and a foot-long hammer hanging from his hip. A peculiar scent emanated from him, but it wasn't uncommon for people coming from the hole to have an unusual and unpleasant odor. I didn't think much of it. When the elevator reached the top floor, the tall gentleman and I went our separate ways.
By that time, it was already 5:10 am, and I hurriedly made my way towards the store to make it in time for my 5:30 am shift. Having lived in Acttio my whole life, I was familiar with every shortcut, back road, and alley, allowing me to ensure I was never late for work, even when leaving the house or the cafe at the last minute.
Finally arriving at the store at 5:21 am, I found only one other person inside—my coworker and friend, Tony. When I first started working here, Tony shared with me how he held multiple jobs to support his siblings after his parents succumbed to illnesses caused by the hole. Normally, I'm not keen on hearing about other people's traumas, but Tony didn't seek sympathy; he casually mentioned it in conversation. I respected him for that, and shortly after, we became friends.
Tony seemed unaware of my presence, so I called out to him. "Yo Tony, what's up?"
Tony looked up from wiping the counter, finally noticing me, and replied, "Oh shit, I didn't even see you come in. My bad."
I shook my head in response. "Nah, it's all good. Let me help you clean before customers start coming in later in the morning."
"Thanks, man!" Tony flashed me a smile and continued wiping down the counter.
For the next 30 minutes, Tony and I tidied up the shop. The convenience store was quite spacious, filled with a wide range of items, including snacks, medicine, magazines, drinks, cigarettes, and even weapons like blades and guns. However, the weapons were not displayed openly. To purchase them, customers had to approach the counter and request the weapons menu, and we would retrieve their chosen items from the back.
By 6:00 am, customers began to trickle in. Over the next few hours, a steady stream of people came and went, purchasing various items. Located in the town square, our shop attracted numerous customers every day. Tony and I were the only ones working this morning, but it wasn't overwhelming. The day was going smoothly until around 9:00 am when something terrible occurred.
Tony manned the cash register while I restocked the magazines near the window. As a customer entered the store, I greeted them with a smile before returning to organizing the magazines into their respective rows, ensuring they remained undamaged. However, just as I was about to finish with the magazines, a scream pierced the air from outside, quickly followed by another. I lifted my head slowly, staring out of the store window to witness a scene of chaos. People ran and screamed in sheer panic, and it was clear that this wasn't a group of joggers or any ordinary commotion. The same crowd that had gathered in the town square moments ago was now fleeing in terror.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scene until Tony's voice broke through my trance. "Eve, what the hell is going on out there?"
It was an impossible sight, seeing thousands of people running from an unknown threat. "I don't know, Tony. I'm going to check it out. I'll be right back. Stay here and watch the store!"
Before Anthony could respond, I dashed out of the door and joined the panicked crowd. Struggling against the mass of people, I pushed my way through, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source of the chaos. I was jostled from all sides, akin to a fish swimming upstream. After much effort, I managed to break free and saw a large man standing over a lifeless body, chunks bitten out of it.
The man's face and beard were drenched in blood, his bloodshot eyes fixed upon me, and a putrid stench emanated from him. In his right hand, he clutched a bloodstained hammer covered in hair. This was the same man who had entered my elevator earlier that morning. Judging by his appearance and the fact that he was consuming someone, it was evident that he had been infected by something in the hole. Typically, individuals who tested positive for infection after being in the Hole were not allowed back into society until they were cured or, in some cases, eliminated. Something must have gone wrong with his testing, as there he stood, infected, in the middle of the town square.
The realization sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt weak in the knees. It wasn't just the horror of the scene unfolding before me; it was the realization that the disfigured corpse on the ground could have been me. My heart raced, and a wave of chills washed over me, making it difficult to breathe.
I watched in horror as the infected adventurer seized a woman running past him, gripping her shirt collar. She let out a scream that was abruptly silenced when he smashed her head with the hammer. Blood spilled from the hammer, trickling down her neck. The infected man slowly withdrew the weapon from her skull and took a large bite out of her face, leaving it disfigured and unrecognizable. He carelessly tossed the lifeless body aside and moved closer to me.
Realizing the peril I was in, I turned and attempted to flee, but sheer panic hindered my escape. The infection drew closer and closer. All I could do was repeat to myself, "Move! Move! Please move! I can't die... not yet—"
However, just as I teetered on the brink of death, gunshots shattered the air, followed by a horrific scream resonating through the town square. Putting some distance between myself and the source of the scream, I dared to glance back. The infected individual clutched his injured arm, blood oozing through his fingers.
In that moment, I also saw who had fired the shots. It was a pale man with shaggy brown hair, dressed in a crisp red and white uniform. His left shoulder bore a white armband with the number "one," signifying his rank. He was an officer, but not just any officer; he was the best in the entire city. His name was Iain Auct...