If someone had asked him that day if he believed in fate, he probably would have said yes.
Not in a superstitious way, but because his own life seemed to prove that even when everything starts wrong, sometimes things eventually find a better path.
As he walked down the brightly lit office hallway, he adjusted his tie knot with a small, satisfied smile.
The law firm building was still full of people working, as was almost always the case at that hour, but he was leaving early that day.
His life was finally on track.
A month ago, he had married the woman he loved, a simple but perfect ceremony, full of laughter, friends, and a few emotional tears.
Work couldn't be better either.
After years of slowly climbing the career ladder, facing difficult cases, ungrateful clients, and more sleepless nights than he could count, he had finally secured a solid position at the firm. The salary was great, his colleagues respected his work, and for the first time since he started in the profession, he felt he was truly where he was supposed to be.
He couldn't complain about absolutely anything.
And to think it hadn't always been this way.
His childhood had been… complicated.
Difficult parents, constant arguments, impossible expectations, and a seemingly endless series of failures that seemed to haunt him throughout his adolescence.
There were moments when he truly believed he would never get out of that hole, that he was doomed to repeat the same mistakes and live a mediocre life like so many others he had seen around him.
But then there was his grandfather.
The memory came naturally as he pressed the elevator button.
His grandfather always used to say the same thing, with that calm smile of someone who had seen a lot in life.
"Keep your head up. Smile. And do good, even when the world doesn't do the same for you."
Back then, it seemed like advice too simple to solve such big problems.
But he followed it anyway.
One step at a time.
One failure after another.
Until, eventually, things started to go right.
The metal elevator doors opened with a soft sound, bringing him back to the present.
He stepped in, pressing the ground floor button while pulling his phone out of his pocket out of habit. The screen lit up his face for a second, revealing the wallpaper he had recently set: a photograph from the wedding ceremony. He and his wife were in the center of the image, laughing as friends threw flower petals around them.
The memory made his smile grow a little wider.
He couldn't wait to get home.
He was about to put his phone away when he noticed someone running down the hall towards the elevator.
It was his boss.
"Boss?" he said, quickly pressing the button to keep the doors open. "Going down too?"
The man kept walking towards the elevator, but something about his movement seemed… strange.
Maybe it was the clumsy way he moved, almost tripping over his own feet.
Maybe it was the completely blank expression on his face.
Or maybe it was the strange silence spreading down the hall behind him.
He frowned slightly, trying to understand what was happening.
"Sir…? Is everything alright?"
That's when he saw it.
Over his boss's shoulder, through the brightly lit office hallway, a few figures ran in panic between the workstations. One of his colleagues shouted something he couldn't understand, while another pushed chairs and papers in a desperate attempt to flee from something coming right behind them.
And then he saw that too.
A female employee from the firm lunged at another man with animalistic violence, knocking him to the floor as she bit his neck.
For a whole second, his brain simply rejected the image.
It didn't make sense.
None of it made sense.
When he looked back at his boss, he realized the man was already inside the elevator.
Too close.
The smell hit him first.
A heavy odor of blood and rotten flesh that instantly turned his stomach.
"Sir… what—"
The sentence never finished.
The man lunged with a guttural snarl and his teeth sank deep into his shoulder.
The pain exploded like fire.
He screamed and reacted on pure instinct, pushing his attacker with all his strength. They slammed violently against the elevator wall, making the button panel rattle as their bodies struggled in the cramped space. The boss seemed completely out of his mind, lunging again with uncontrolled bites as they stumbled and pushed each other against every corner of the metal cabin.
In his desperate attempt to push him away, he ended up hitting his arm against the control panel.
Several buttons were pressed at once.
Different floors lit up in sequence as the elevator began to descend.
The fight continued in claustrophobic chaos.
The attacker tried to bite him again, but he managed to hold the man's face with one hand while pushing his body against the opposite wall. They slipped, crashed against the handrail, against the doors, against the panel… each movement pressing even more random buttons.
But the blood was already flowing.
And his strength was fading.
The bite on his shoulder burned in a strange way, almost too hot.
His vision started to blur.
The world seemed to slowly drift away as sounds became distant, muffled, as if he were sinking into deep water.
The last thing he remembered thinking was something simple.
"I don't want to die."
Not now.
Not when his life had finally started to go right.
And then everything went dark.
----------------------------------------
After what seemed like an eternity, his consciousness began to return.
First came the sensation of the hard floor beneath his body, then the distant sound of an electric motor running, and finally, a faint light pressing against his closed eyelids. His mind took a few seconds to organize it all into something comprehensible.
He was lying down.
The space around him was small.
There was a metallic smell in the air.
With a slow, heavy effort, he opened his eyes.
The white light from the elevator ceiling seemed too bright, almost painful to look at directly. For a few seconds he just lay there, blinking slowly as he tried to understand what he was seeing.
The elevator.
The memory came back like a flash of lightning.
His boss.
The struggle.
The bite.
He tried to speak.
"I…"
The sound that came from his throat was a low, guttural, and rough growl.
His eyes widened.
He tried again, forcing the air out of his lungs.
"What… happened…?"
The syllables dragged clumsily, broken in the middle by guttural noises that made his own voice sound strange and alien to his ears.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
He tried to get up.
His arms responded with a delay, muscles stiff and heavy as if they hadn't been used for hours.
The movement was slow, clumsy, almost mechanical, but eventually he managed to brace himself against the elevator wall and pull his body into a sitting position.
He looked down.
His suit was torn at the shoulder.
The flesh there had been partly torn away, leaving an uneven wound that revealed dark tissue beneath. The strange thing, however, wasn't the grotesque appearance of the bite.
It was the fact that it didn't hurt.
Not one bit.
He carefully raised his hand, touching the edge of the wound with trembling fingers.
Nothing.
No pain.
No reaction.
His stomach dropped.
Moving slowly, he turned his head to the side.
The metal wall of the elevator had a small decorative mirror installed near the handrail. It was something simple, probably placed there just for aesthetics, but at that moment it served as a brutal window into reality.
The man staring back at him from the reflection didn't look healthy.
His skin was pale, almost grayish, stretched over his face in a way that made his features seem sunken. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his lips had completely lost their color.
And then there was the wound.
The bite on his shoulder was visible even in the partial reflection, an irregular blotch of torn flesh and dried blood.
He stared at that image for long seconds.
Trying to find some logical explanation.
"No…" the sound came out weakly from his throat. "You've… you've got to be kidding me…"
His mind desperately searched for some rational answer, some plausible reason to explain it all.
Maybe he was in shock.
Maybe he was delirious.
Maybe he had fainted and was dreaming.
But none of those ideas seemed to fit what his eyes were seeing.
That was when something vibrated in his pants pocket.
The unexpected sound made him flinch.
It took a moment to realize it was his phone.
Moving his stiff fingers with difficulty, he pulled the device out. The screen lit up immediately, illuminating the elevator interior with a soft light.
A notification had appeared.
Lucas:
"Dude, are you okay?? There's something really wrong going on in the city."
He blinked a few times as he read the message.
Then his eyes automatically dropped to the image on the lock screen.
The wedding photograph.
Him and his wife, side by side, smiling.
The memory shot through his mind like a spark.
His wife.
She was at home.
Alone.
If this was happening all over the city…
The thought was enough to push all other doubts to the back of his mind.
He needed to get to her.
Now.
With a heavy effort, he managed to stand up fully, leaning against the elevator wall as his legs tried to remember how to walk properly. His movements were slow, stiff, as if every joint was functioning with a delay.
The elevator doors were open.
He didn't remember when they had stopped.
The building corridor seemed abandoned.
Some desks were overturned, papers scattered on the floor, and dark stains of blood marked the carpet in irregular trails that disappeared in different directions.
He didn't allow himself to think about that.
His only focus now was getting home.
Each step he took felt strange.
His body responded… but not in the way he was used to. His movements were heavy, almost dragging, and for some reason, he simply couldn't run.
Even when he tried to quicken his pace, his legs just maintained that slow, rigid walk.
Eventually he reached the building's exit.
As he passed through the glass doors, the world outside revealed itself in complete chaos.
Cars were stopped in the middle of the street, some abandoned with doors open, others crashed into poles or into the back of vehicles ahead. People ran in all directions, screaming, trying to escape figures that advanced irregularly along the sidewalks.
Figures that moved exactly like him.
A woman fell on the asphalt a few meters ahead.
Before she could get up, three of those creatures lunged at her.
He looked away.
There was nothing he could do.
His body continued moving slowly along the sidewalk, ignoring the panic around him while holding only one firm thought in his mind.
Home.
He needed to get home.
The direct path was blocked by an endless line of abandoned cars and fleeing crowds, so he turned into a side alley that led to a nearby subway station.
A few minutes later he descended the station stairs.
To his surprise, the place still seemed relatively normal.
Some people were gathered on the platform, talking nervously among themselves while checking their phones or watching the news on screens scattered around the station.
Most seemed confused, but not yet fully aware of the gravity of the situation.
A few glances turned to him when he appeared.
It wasn't hard to imagine why.
His torn suit, pale skin, and rigid posture definitely drew attention.
A young man leaning against one of the pillars looked him up and down and let out a short laugh.
"Wow," he said, shaking his head with an amused smile. "Nice cosplay, man!"
He didn't answer.
He probably couldn't answer even if he tried.
The train arrived a few minutes later.
The doors opened with the usual hiss, and passengers began to enter calmly, still not fully understanding that the world above them was collapsing.
He got on too.
Choosing the first available car.
The subway that passed closest to his home.
And as the train began to move through the dark tunnels underground, slowly carrying him through the collapsing city… he kept his eyes fixed on the blank screen of his phone.
On the photograph of him and his wife.
The only thing that still mattered.
----------------------------------------
The subway ride felt much longer than it actually was.
The car moved through the underground tunnels with the same mechanical rhythm as always, but every second inside that enclosed space felt too heavy for his mind.
When the train finally arrived at the station closest to his home, he got out of the car along with the rest of the crowd.
No one there seemed to truly understand what was happening.
He climbed the station stairs slowly, dragging his feet with that rigid gait that was already starting to feel too natural. As soon as he emerged from underground, the contrast hit him immediately.
That part of the city seemed… normal.
Cars still passed through the streets, people walked along the sidewalks chatting, some young people laughed near a coffee shop, completely oblivious to the chaos he had left behind just a few stations away.
It was like crossing an invisible border.
Behind him was hell.
Here… normality still existed.
But he had no time to observe that.
His gaze quickly swept across the street until it stopped at a small metal stand where several bicycles were leaning side by side. Without much thought, he approached and pulled one out.
"Sorry…"
Getting on the bike was more complicated than it should have been.
His body seemed too rigid for quick movements, and pedaling took a few seconds of trying until his legs found a functional rhythm. When he finally managed to balance, he started down the street toward the neighborhood where he lived.
Every pedal stroke was clumsy, every turn seemed to require more coordination than his body wanted to give.
Still, he moved forward, slowly but with determination, passing through quiet streets where people still chatted on porches or walked with shopping bags.
Once again, it was impossible to ignore the contrast.
Some parts of the city were falling apart.
Others still breathed calmly, as if nothing were happening.
After a while, he recognized the familiar streets of his neighborhood.
Slowing down when he spotted his own house.
The large two-story building looked exactly as it always had.
He got off the bike with rigid movements, letting it fall onto the grass before walking to the front door.
As soon as he entered, he tried to call out his wife's name.
No answer.
The house was silent.
He began walking down the hall, looking into the rooms one by one, until a sound from the upper floor made his body stop.
A scream.
His heart (or whatever was still working inside his chest) tightened.
The sounds came from the bedroom.
He climbed the stairs quickly, his heavy footsteps echoing through the hallway as he approached the door. When he opened it, what he found there froze his body for an entire instant.
His wife was in bed.
With another man.
They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice his presence immediately.
Her voice echoed through the room, full of an intensity he had never heard before. The man's hands roamed her body as the two moved among the crumpled sheets.
For a moment he just stood in the doorway.
Watching.
The torn, blood-stained uniform contrasted grotesquely with the scene unfolding before him.
The woman who had sworn to love him.
The woman who had promised never to betray him.
Eventually the two realized someone was there.
The movement stopped.
His wife's eyes widened when she saw him.
"…?!"
She quickly pulled the sheets to cover herself while the man beside her half-rose, looking at him with a confused expression.
"Dude, wait—" the lover began, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
But the words never finished.
Something inside the battered man before him broke at that moment.
Pain.
Confusion.
Rage.
And that overwhelming feeling of being betrayed… again.
He lunged forward.
His teeth sank into the man's neck before any reaction was possible. The flesh gave way under the brutal pressure of his jaw, and a metallic taste flooded his mouth as he tore a huge chunk from the lover's neck.
The room filled with screams.
But he wasn't listening.
His mind was a whirlwind of fury and humiliation.
He kept attacking, biting, tearing, until the man's body stopped moving completely.
When he finally stood up, he was covered in blood.
His eyes turned to the woman.
The same woman who a month earlier had promised to spend the rest of her life by his side.
She retreated across the bed in panic, grabbing any object within reach and hurling them at him.
A book.
A lamp.
A pillow.
Among the objects flying through the room, something small and metallic hit his forehead and fell to the floor with a light sound.
A ring.
He looked down.
Slowly bent down and picked it up.
For a few seconds he just stared at that small golden circle resting in the palm of his hand. Silent drops began to fall from his eyes, mixing with the blood in his palm.
When he raised his head again, he saw his wife pointing a pistol at him.
The two stared at each other for a long moment.
"You… lied… to me…" he managed to say with difficulty.
The gunshot echoed through the room.
The bullet hit his head from the side.
But he didn't fall.
He lunged forward.
Some time later, he left the room.
The silence in the house was absolute.
It was then that something small appeared in the hallway.
Pombon, the family dog.
The little orange-furred dog ran toward him with his curled tail wagging happily, barking as if he were glad to see him.
Once again he saw the contrast applied before his eyes, he being the night and the animal before him the day.
He looked at Pombon for a few seconds.
Then spoke with difficulty.
"Let's… go for a walk…"
Shortly afterward, the two were walking through the quiet streets of the neighborhood.
The dog trotted happily at his side while he slowly made his way to a small nearby park. There, he released the leash and let Pombon run freely through the grass.
He walked to an old tree where a broken rocking chair lay fallen beside the trunk.
Sat on the ground.
Leaned his back against the tree.
The cold was finally beginning to penetrate his body.
His mind wandered through the events that had happened in less than an hour.
The betrayal.
The violence.
The realization that, even after everything he had done to live right… he had still ended up like this.
With a lie.
He thought about the courts.
About the lies he heard every day.
About the crimes he watched people commit.
He had always believed there was more good than evil in the world.
But at that moment… he wasn't so sure anymore.
He raised the pistol he had taken from his wife.
Pressed it against his own head.
Then he felt Pombon nuzzle against his lap.
The little dog whimpered softly as he nestled against him.
He looked at the animal.
"I… don't understand…" he murmured. "What made you… cry?"
He ran his hand over the dog's fluffy head.
Then picked up a twig from the ground.
"Let's play… one last time."
He threw the stick.
Pombon ran after it with enthusiasm.
The man watched the dog run through the grass as a faint smile appeared on his face.
"Maybe it was always my fate… To end up in a place as cold as this…"
He let out a small, tired laugh, watching Pombon being approached by a couple passing through the park.
"Ahh… Life... is... unfair…"
His fingers tightened on the trigger.
The sound of the shot echoed through the empty park.
And as his vision was swallowed by darkness, his last thought was simple.
"I want a refund…"