The group begins their first real day of work at Sanctuary, struggling with weapons and the brutal reality of scavenging. As days pass and routines form, Ahmed pieces together a critical discovery about the Gazers that could change everything. Meanwhile, something new and terrible stirs in the ruins of Niraya—something the survivors don't see coming.
The rifle kicked harder than Reyan expected.
The shot went wide. Missed the target by a full meter. Hit the concrete wall behind it with a sharp crack.
"Safety," Nisha said flatly. "Check it."
Reyan lowered the weapon. Checked. The safety was off. He'd forgotten.
"Again," Nisha said.
He raised it. Tried to remember everything she'd taught them ten minutes ago. Stance. Grip. Sight alignment. Breathe. Squeeze.
The rifle kicked. The shot went high this time.
"Better," Nisha said. Not a compliment. Just an observation. "Next."
She moved down the line to Vikram.
Reyan stood there, rifle in his hands, feeling like an idiot. This was their first real training. First time holding actual weapons. First time shooting at targets.
And he was terrible at it.
Down the line, Samir was doing better. His shots at least hit the target. Not center mass. But on the paper.
Vikram was worse than Reyan. Couldn't even get the rifle positioned right. Kept dropping the magazine when he tried to reload.
Arjun hadn't fired yet. Just stood there looking at the weapon like it might bite him.
"This is harder than it looks," Taj muttered from beside Reyan.
"No shit."
Nisha came back. Stood in front of them. "You're all terrible. That's fine. Everyone starts terrible." She gestured at the targets. "But you won't stay terrible if you practice. So we're doing this every day. Two hours. Until you can hit what you're aiming at."
"Every day?" Vikram asked.
"Every day." Nisha's tone left no room for argument. "Out there, you don't get second chances. You don't get to miss. So in here, you practice until missing isn't an option."
She walked back to her position. "Again. From the top. Load. Aim. Fire."
They did.
Reyan's third shot finally hit the target. Barely. Clipped the edge.
It felt like winning the lottery.
After weapons training came the briefing.
Karan's team and Reyan's team gathered in a small room. Advait stood at the front with a map spread across the table.
"Your first run is tomorrow," he said. "Simple route. Three stops. In and out." He traced the path with his finger. "Convenience store here. Apartment building here. Pharmacy here."
"What are we looking for?" Karan asked.
"Food. Medicine. Water. Standard priorities." Advait looked at them. "You'll have an experienced runner with you. His name is Manish. He's done this route before. You follow his lead. You do what he says. Understood?"
Everyone nodded.
"Good. You leave at dawn. Be ready."
The briefing ended.
Outside, Reyan found Samir standing alone, staring at nothing.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Samir didn't look at him. "Just thinking."
"About tomorrow?"
"About everything." Samir finally turned. "Weeks ago I was an mid-level employee who was managing presentations, meetings, timelines. Now I'm learning to shoot people."
"They're not people anymore."
"I know. But they were." Samir rubbed his face. "Doesn't that bother you?"
"Every second." Reyan looked at his hands. They were shaking slightly. Had been since weapons training. "But what choice do we have?"
Samir didn't answer.
In the lab, Taj was learning a different kind of lesson.
"Label everything," Ahmed said. He was showing Taj how to organize samples. "Date. Time. Location. Type. Everything gets documented. Nothing gets assumed."
Taj wrote it down. His handwriting was messy but readable.
"Why so detailed?" he asked.
"Because patterns matter. You can't see patterns if your data's incomplete." Ahmed pulled out a thick notebook. "This is weeks of observations. Every encounter. Every behavior. Every mutation. All documented."
Taj flipped through it. Pages and pages of notes. Sketches. Timelines.
"This is insane," he said.
"The more we understand them, the better we can fight them. Or avoid them. Or predict them."
"You really think we can predict them?"
"I think we can try." Ahmed pointed to a section. "Shamblers move in predictable patterns. They're drawn to sound. To movement. They don't plan. Don't coordinate. Easy to manipulate if you know how."
"And the others?"
"Runners are harder. Faster. More aggressive." Ahmed flipped pages. "Stalkers are nocturnal. They hunt. They plan. They're smart."
"And Gazers?"
Ahmed stopped. "Those I'm still figuring out."
He showed Taj the Gazer section. Fewer notes. More question marks.
"Seven documented encounters. All survivors who made it here. All reported the same thing—eye contact, hallucinations, nearly died." Ahmed tapped the page. "But that's not enough data. I need more. I need to understand what triggers it. How it works. Why—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Stared at the page.
"What?" Taj asked.
"The times." Ahmed's finger traced down the entries. "Look at the times."
Taj looked. Each entry had a timestamp.
Around 4:30 AM. 5:52 AM. 4:38 AM. 5:15 AM. 6:03 AM. 4:55 AM.
"They're all early morning," Taj said.
"Dawn." Ahmed was still staring. "Every single one. Dawn."
"Could be coincidence."
"Seven encounters. Same two-hour window. That's not coincidence." Ahmed stood up. Started pacing. "Why dawn? What's special about dawn?"
Taj thought about it. "Light? The sun coming up?"
"But they're active at dawn. So they're not purely nocturnal." Ahmed kept pacing. "What if it's not about darkness. What if it's about the light itself. The quality of it."
"I don't follow."
"Low light. Shadows. In-between." Ahmed was talking faster now. "Bright sunlight would make hallucinations harder to maintain. Harder to make convincing. But at dawn, with low light and shadows, it's easier to manipulate what people see."
"You think they're sensitive to light?"
"Maybe. I don't know. I need more data." Ahmed grabbed his notebook. "I need to test it. But how—"
"Ask Advait for a live specimen?"
Ahmed looked at him. "That's dangerous."
"Everything's dangerous."
Ahmed almost smiled. "You've been here two days and you already sound like us."
"Is that good or bad?"
"I'll let you know when I figure it out."
The next morning came too early.
Reyan woke to someone shaking his shoulder. One of the guards. "Up. First run. Don't be late."
In the cafeteria, the teams gathered. Ate in silence. Checked their gear. Waited.
A man approached their table. Older. Maybe forty-five. Weathered face. Calm eyes.
"I'm Manish," he said. "I'll be leading today. Stay close. Do what I say. Don't be heroes."
They loaded into the truck. Reyan. Samir. Taj. Vikram. Arjun. Karan's team in a second truck behind them.
Manish drove. Didn't talk much. Just focused on the road.
The city looked different in the early morning light. Empty. Dead. Buildings burned out. Cars abandoned. Bodies in the streets.
Reyan tried not to look at the bodies.
Didn't always succeed.
They reached the first stop. A convenience store. Windows broken. Door hanging off hinges.
"Weapons ready," Manish said quietly. "Stay tight. Watch each other's backs."
They moved in.
The store was dark. Aisles knocked over. Products scattered everywhere. The smell hit them first—rot and decay and something worse.
Movement in the back.
Manish raised his hand. Everyone stopped.
A Shambler emerged from behind the counter. Gray skin. Black veins. Moving slow.
Manish shot it. Clean headshot. The infected dropped.
"Clear the rest," he said.
They spread out. Checked every aisle. Every corner. Found two more Shamblers. Put them down.
Then started gathering supplies.
Canned goods. Water bottles. Anything useful.
Reyan's hands shook as he loaded items into his bag. This was real. This was actually happening. He was in a ruined city, surrounded by the dead, taking supplies to survive.
Weeks ago he'd been giving a presentation in an office.
Now he was here.
"Move faster," Manish said. "We don't have all day."
They worked faster.
The second stop was an apartment building. Four floors. Manish said they'd check the ground floor only. Too risky to go higher.
They found three apartments unlocked. Took what they could. Food. Medicine. Blankets.
In the third apartment, Vikram found something that made him stop.
A photo on the wall. A family. Parents and two kids. Smiling. Normal.
"Don't," Manish said quietly. "Don't think about it. Just take what we need and move."
Vikram looked at the photo for another second. Then turned away.
They left the apartment building with bags full. No casualties. No problems.
The third stop was supposed to be a pharmacy.
They never made it inside.
As they approached, Manish held up his hand. "Wait."
Through the broken windows, they could see movement. A lot of movement.
"How many?" Karan whispered.
"Too many." Manish backed up slowly. "We skip this one. Not worth the risk."
They retreated. Quiet. Careful. Got back to the trucks without incident.
Drove back to Sanctuary.
At the gate, guards checked them. Looked for bites. For scratches. For infection.
They were clean.
Inside, they unloaded supplies. Advait checked the inventory. Nodded. "Good first run. Rest up. You're out again in two days."
That was it. No celebration. No praise. Just acknowledgment.
Reyan found his daughter in the common area. She ran to him. Hugged him tight.
"You came back," she said.
"I promised I would."
"You always come back?"
Reyan wanted to say yes. Wanted to promise. But he'd learned not to make promises he couldn't keep.
"I'll try," he said instead.
She seemed to accept that.
The days started to blur together after that.
Morning runs. Weapons training. Meals. Sleep. Repeat.
Reyan got better with the rifle. His shots grouped tighter. His reloads got faster.
Samir stopped watching Nisha during training. Just focused on the work.
Taj spent longer hours in the lab. Came back exhausted but never complained.
Vikram made jokes less. Talked less. Just did the work.
Arjun barely spoke anymore. Just moved through the routine like a ghost.
They all changed. Little by little. Day by day.
Became harder. Quieter. More efficient.
Less human. More survivors.
On the fifth day, they lost someone.
Not from their group. From another team.
A woman named Riya. Got cornered by Runners in a collapsed building. Didn't make it out.
They burned her body that night. Said words. Moved on.
Because that's what you did.
On the seventh day, Reyan killed his first infected up close.
Not with a gun. With a knife.
A Shambler got too close during a supply run. Grabbed his arm. He panicked. Stabbed it. Kept stabbing until it stopped moving.
His hands shook for hours afterward.
But the next day, he did it again. And it was easier.
That scared him more than anything.
On the tenth day, Ahmed was in the lab late.
Dr. Aggarwal had gone to bed. Taj had left an hour ago. Just Ahmed and his notes and the quiet hum of equipment.
He was reviewing the Gazer data again. Still bothered by the pattern. Still trying to figure it out.
Dawn. Always dawn.
Why?
He stood. Walked to the window. Looked out at the facility. At the lights. At the generators humming in the distance.
Light.
The thought wouldn't leave him alone.
What if it wasn't just about timing? What if it was about the light itself?
He needed to test it. Needed proof.
But how do you test something like that without putting people at risk?
Ahmed stared out the window. Thinking.
Then he saw something that made him stop.
One of the guard towers. The spotlight sweeping across the perimeter.
And an infected near the fence. A Shambler or Gazer or might be a Runner. Moving away from the light. Not randomly. Deliberately. Like it was avoiding it.
Ahmed watched for a full minute.
Every time the spotlight swept near, the infected moved away. Stayed in the shadows.
"Huh," Ahmed said out loud.
He grabbed his notebook. Started writing.
Observation: Infected avoid direct light when possible. One Infected move to shadows when spotlights approach. Possible photosensitivity across all types?
He needed more. Needed to see if this applied to other variants.
He grabbed his coat. Headed outside.
The guards looked at him weird when he asked to borrow a flashlight.
"It's for research," Ahmed said.
They gave him one anyway.
Ahmed walked the perimeter. Inside the fence but close enough to see the infected outside.
He shined the light at a infected. It turned away. Moved into shadow.
He tried it on another. Same result.
Then he found a Runner. Faster. More aggressive. He shined the light at it.
The Runner recoiled. Moved back. Didn't like the light at all.
Ahmed's heart started beating faster.
He kept testing. Kept watching. For over an hour.
Every infected he tested avoided bright light. Some more than others. But all of them showed the same basic response.
Photosensitivity.
Ahmed went back inside. Straight to the lab. Woke up Dr. Aggarwal.
"I need you to see something," Ahmed said.
They went outside together. Ahmed demonstrated. Showed him the pattern.
Dr. Aggarwal watched. Silent. Thinking.
"It's consistent," he said finally. "Across all types we can see from here."
"Which means the Gazers probably react the same way," Ahmed said. "But stronger. That's why they only operate at dawn. Low light. Not bright enough to hurt them but light enough to see."
"We'd need to test it. With a live specimen."
"I know." Ahmed looked at him. "Think Advait will approve it?"
"Only one way to find out."
The next morning, Ahmed went to Advait's office.
Explained what he'd found. Showed his notes. Demonstrated with the flashlight on a captured infected they kept for research.
The infected turned away from the light. Tried to move into shadow even while restrained.
"You think this applies to Gazers?" Advait asked.
"I think they're the most photosensitive of all. That's why they only hunt at dawn. Full sunlight would disrupt them completely. Maybe even hurt them."
Advait studied the Infected. The way it strained away from the light.
"If you're right, we could use this. Change our schedules. Operate during peak sunlight."
"Exactly."
"But you need proof. Real proof."
"I need a Gazer. Alive. To test the theory."
Advait was quiet for a long moment. Then nodded.
"I'll assign Karan's team. They're experienced enough to handle it." He looked at Ahmed. "But if this goes wrong—"
"It won't."
"It better not."
Two days later, Karan's team brought back a Gazer.
They'd found it near an old bus depot.
Used nets and ropes and worked fast. Had it restrained in under five minutes.
Brought it back covered. Kept it in shadow during transport.
In the lab, they strapped it to a table. Head immobilized. Arms and legs secured.
Ahmed and Dr. Aggarwal stood over it. Taj watched from a safe distance.
The lab windows were covered. Only dim overhead lights.
The Gazer was active. Struggling. Eyes searching. Looking for someone to lock onto.
"Ready?" Ahmed asked.
Dr. Aggarwal nodded.
Ahmed uncovered one window. Just slightly. Early morning light filtered in.
The Gazer's struggling increased. It turned its head away from the light. Eyes squinting.
Ahmed uncovered more of the window.
The Gazer thrashed harder. The sound it made wasn't quite a groan. More like... pain.
"Open it completely," Dr. Aggarwal said.
Ahmed did.
Sunlight flooded the lab. Full morning sun. Bright and direct.
The Gazer screamed.
Not a groan. Not a moan. A scream. High-pitched and wrong.
It thrashed violently. Trying desperately to escape the light. The restraints held but barely.
Its eyes—the milky film that covered them—started to darken. Like it was burning. Tissue around the eyes reddened. Blistered.
"Close it!" Taj shouted.
Ahmed closed the blinds.
The Gazer went still. Breathing hard. Eyes damaged but still functional.
The three of them stood there in silence.
"It burns them," Dr. Aggarwal said quietly. "Actual physical damage from prolonged exposure."
"That's why they hunt at dawn," Ahmed said. "It's the only time they can operate. Full darkness, they can't see well enough. Full sunlight literally hurts them."
"This changes everything," Dr. Aggarwal said.
Ahmed nodded. "I need to tell everyone."
That evening, Advait called an assembly.
Everyone in Sanctuary gathered in the main hall. All sixty-three people. Standing. Sitting. Waiting.
Advait stood at the front. Ahmed beside him.
"We've made a discovery," Advait said. His voice carried. Clear. Authoritative. "About the Gazers. About how they work. Ahmed will explain."
Ahmed stepped forward. He wasn't used to public speaking. But this was too important to mess up.
"The Gazers—the infected that cause hallucinations through eye contact—they're photosensitive. Sunlight hurts them. Physically burns them." He paused. "That's why every documented encounter happens at dawn. It's the only time they can operate without pain."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"We tested this today. With a live specimen. Direct sunlight caused severe tissue damage. Especially to the eyes." Ahmed looked around. "Which means we can use this. We change our operations. No more dawn runs. We go out mid-morning. When the sun is high. Peak daylight."
"What if we encounter them anyway?" someone called out.
"You won't cause they fear sunlight, If you found them at any of the houses which doesn't have any source of light the glasses will help you and if you have to engage, use light. Flashlights. Flares. Anything bright directed at their eyes. It'll disorient them. Give you time to escape or kill them."
More murmurs. Excited now. This was actionable. This was useful.
Advait stepped forward again. "Starting tomorrow, all supply runs are rescheduled. Departure time moves to nine AM. Return by three PM. Peak sunlight hours only and you can now wear off your glasses at your own risk. It is still advisable but not compulsory now. If you go out where there is no source of light immediately wear your glasses."
"What about other types?" Karan asked. "Do they react the same?"
"All infected show some degree of photosensitivity," Ahmed said. "But Gazers are the most extreme. Shamblers and Runners avoid bright light but it doesn't hurt them. Stalkers are fully nocturnal. And Gazers... Gazers can't function in full sun at all."
The assembly continued for another twenty minutes. Questions. Clarifications. New protocols.
By the end, everyone understood.
Sunlight was a weapon now.
That night, the group gathered in their usual corner of the cafeteria.
"That's actually huge," Vikram said. "Knowing when they can and can't operate. When we're safe."
"We're never safe," Karan corrected. "But we're safer. That counts for something."
"Ahmed's smarter than he looks," Taj said. Then realized how that sounded. "I mean—he looks smart. But he's even smarter than that. You know what I mean."
"We know," Samir said. Almost smiled.
It was the first time any of them had smiled in days.
They talked for another hour. About the discovery. About how runs might change. About feeling like maybe, just maybe, they were learning how to fight back.
Eventually they dispersed. Headed to bunks. To sleep.
Reyan found his daughter already asleep. He lay down beside her. Stared at the ceiling.
For the first time in weeks, he didn't feel completely hopeless.
They were learning. Adapting. Surviving.
Maybe that was enough.
Far across the city, in the ruins of a collapsed hospital, something moved.
Not a Shambler. Not a Runner. Not a Stalker. Not a Gazer.
Something else.
It had been human once. A doctor maybe. Or a patient. Hard to tell now.
The infection had changed it. More than the others. Deeper.
Its skin was gray-black. Covered in growths. Fungal-looking. Pulsing.
Its eyes were completely white. Not milky. Just blank. Empty.
It moved wrong. Joints bending at angles that shouldn't work. Bones creaking. Flesh tearing and reforming.
And it was hunting.
Not mindlessly. Not instinctively.
Deliberately.
It found a Shambler. Approached it. The Shambler didn't react. Didn't see it as a threat.
The thing grabbed the Shambler. Pulled it close.
Bit down.
Not on the neck. Not on the shoulder.
On the face. The mouth. Like it was injecting something.
The Shambler convulsed. Thrashed. Black veins spread from the bite. Faster than normal. Aggressive.
Within thirty seconds, the Shambler stopped moving.
Within a minute, it started changing.
The gray skin darkened. The growths appeared. Spreading like cancer.
The thing released the Shambler. Moved on.
Found another. Did it again.
And again.
And again.
By dawn, six infected had been changed. Six new carriers.
And the thing kept moving. Kept hunting. Kept spreading.
In Sanctuary, everyone slept. Unaware.
Ahmed's discovery had been huge. Important. Life-saving.
But it wouldn't save them from this.
Nothing would.
Not yet.
Because they didn't know it existed.
Didn't know it was coming.
Didn't know that the war they thought they understood had just changed completely.
The thing rattled in the darkness. Bones scraping. Wet and hollow.
And somewhere in the ruins, something answered.
The infection was evolving again.
And this time, it was learning to spread itself.