Chapter 4 BPov

As we emerged from the shelter to embark on the unknown, I noticed that others began to leave as well, walking in a different direction. I sent up a silent prayer to any god that they would be okay. Turning my attention back to the task at hand, I guided our group to the ground-level flat where I had seen the man dragging the obviously imprisoned woman.

Once at the door, I hesitated. My instincts screamed at me to be cautious, but with no other plan, I knocked. The sound of my knuckles on the wood seemed deafening in the stillness. The door creaked open, revealing a middle-aged woman who stared at us silently. Without a word, she stepped away from the door and disappeared from sight.

We heard muffled voices from within, and soon the man I had seen earlier appeared. He opened the door wider and gave a small, curt motion with his eyes, silently inviting us inside. His demeanor was tense, guarded, and it put me on edge.

Once inside, he closed the door behind us and led us down a short hallway into what appeared to be the heart of the flat—the kitchen. The space was dimly lit, cluttered with makeshift supplies and mismatched furniture. Seated around the kitchen table were three other people. There were four of them in total, but the woman with the bag over her head was nowhere in sight.

The middle-aged woman who had first greeted us broke the silence. "I'm Esme and this is my family," she said, her voice calm but firm. She gestured toward a young woman who offered a faint smile. "This is Rose." Next, she pointed to a middle-aged man who inclined his head. "And my husband Carlisle." Finally, the man who had brought us here spoke up. "I'm Edward," he said, his tone clipped, as if he wanted to get through introductions as quickly as possible.

Esme, Rose, Carlisle, and Edward all watched us carefully, their eyes betraying a mix of curiosity and unease. Something about the way they looked at us made me wonder how much they already knew about what was happening outside. I introduced myself and my group, glancing at them to make sure no one objected to me speaking for us. They remained silent, so I continued.

I turned back to Edward, unable to hold my question any longer. "Where's the woman I saw you with?" My eyes darted around the room, searching for any clue of her whereabouts.

Edward hesitated, exchanging a glance with Carlisle. "Why don't we sit for this?" Esme suggested, gesturing to the large dining table in the corner of the room. Her voice was kind but carried an air of authority that made it hard to refuse. I nodded, leading our group to the table.

We sat down cautiously, our nerves fraying with every passing second. My hand instinctively tightened around the strap of my duffle bag, ready for anything. Edward finally spoke, his voice low. "She's in the other room. Would you like to see her?"

"What's wrong with her?" I asked, my unease growing. Edward's jaw tightened. "What you saw earlier wasn't a woman. Not entirely."

"What does that mean?" Alice asked, her brows furrowing as she leaned forward.

"It means," Carlisle said solemnly, his tone grave, "that our world has changed—and we'll have to change with it if we want to survive."

Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She's infected, but she hasn't fully turned yet. We think there's a window of time—brief but real—where an infected person still has some control, some awareness. We're trying to understand it."

"What do you mean by 'fully turned'?" Jasper asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was calm but laced with suspicion.

Edward looked directly at him, his expression dark. "She hasn't fully transitioned into what most people would call a zombie. But it's only a matter of time." He paused, glancing at Esme and Carlisle for support before continuing. "We think there's something unique about her—or maybe it's about the strain she's carrying. Either way, it might hold the key to understanding this outbreak."

The weight of his words settled over us like a heavy blanket. The room was silent, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of chaos from outside. I didn't know whether to feel relieved that there might be answers—or terrified of what those answers might cost us.

"How do you know about all this and where did she come from?" I asked. Edward leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if bracing himself. "I wasn't directly involved in creating... whatever this is. I need you to understand that first," he began, his tone defensive but tinged with guilt. "I'm not a scientist or one of the high-ranking officers. I'm just a low-level grunt—was, anyway. I worked security at a classified research facility."

He glanced at Esme, who gave him a small, encouraging nod. "My job was to keep unauthorized personnel out, to patrol the grounds. Standard military stuff. They didn't tell us much—just that the facility was conducting 'biomedical research' for national defense. They love their euphemisms."

Edward's jaw tightened as he continued. "One day, about two weeks ago, the alarms started blaring. At first, they told us it was a containment breach in one of the labs. We were ordered to lock down the facility. No one in or out. But then... then we started seeing them."

He paused, his eyes dark and distant, as if reliving a nightmare. "The people who worked in the labs—they weren't people anymore. Some of them were still moving, but their eyes were empty. Like they were running on instinct, not thought. We tried to contain them, but it spread too fast. One bite, one scratch, and it was over."

Carlisle interjected gently, "Edward barely made it out alive."

Edward nodded grimly. "I didn't even know what was happening. They didn't tell us anything. Just gave orders to secure specific assets and abandon everything else. One of those 'assets' was her." He gestured toward the closed door of the other room, where the infected woman was being held. "They called her 'Subject Alpha.' Said she was critical to their research and had to be extracted at all costs."

Jasper frowned. "You're saying she's part of this? That she's patient zero or something?"

Edward shook his head. "I don't know. Like I said, I wasn't high up enough to get the full story. But from what I overheard... They were working on some kind of bio-weapon. Something that could incapacitate enemy populations without damaging infrastructure. But it went wrong. Way wrong."

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I couldn't leave her behind. Not after what I saw. She wasn't fully gone yet—she could still talk, still beg for help. They left her strapped to a gurney, like she was some kind of experiment, not a human being. I couldn't just... let her die there."

Esme spoke up softly, "Edward risked everything to save her. He brought her here, hoping we could figure out how to help her—or at least understand what's happening."

Edward's jaw tightened, and his eyes briefly darted toward the closed door to the other room, as if weighing the gravity of the situation against his decision to let us in. "I don't know how much longer she has before she turns completely. But I know this: if we don't find answers soon, none of us are making it out of this alive."

I folded my arms, keeping my gaze steady on him. "If all this is true, why did you let us in? Why do you trust us?"

Edward's expression shifted, softening just enough to betray a flicker of vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. "I don't know. Call it instinct, or a gut feeling. But you saw me—dragging someone into this place—and instead of running in the opposite direction, you came to help. You knocked on our door without a second thought about how dangerous we might be. So I could ask you the same thing. Why trust me?"

The room was quiet for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. My group exchanged uncertain glances, then turned their eyes to me. Jasper smirked, breaking the silence. "She had a gut feeling." They said in unison.

Alice snorted softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah. That's kind of her thing."

Edward's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Then maybe we're both crazy for trusting our instincts," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But right now, that gut feeling might be all we've got to go on."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle on my shoulders. "So where do we start?"