David stepped out of the CVS with renewed purpose and immediately realized he had nowhere safe to go.

  The street stretched empty in both directions. Perfect sight lines, sure, but zero cover if something decided to chase him. He needed somewhere defensible to figure out his next move.

  His phone charger felt like a lifeline in his pocket. Technology might be humanity's saving grace, assuming he could find a signal somewhere to get online.

  He plugged the charger into his laptop and connected his phone while walking. The familiar ritual was oddly comforting. At least some things still worked the way they were supposed to.

  Unlike everything else in his life right now.

  Five minutes of walking brought him to a small urban park wedged between converging roads. The sort of place city planners created when they had leftover triangular space and a landscaping budget to burn.

  It wasn't much to look at. Patchy grass, a few struggling trees, and a fenced dog run that doubtless made the local pooches very happy. But it offered something precious: visibility.

  The bench sat perfectly positioned between two gate exits, giving him clear sightlines and multiple escape routes. Even better, the double-gate system meant he'd hear anyone approaching long before they reached him.

  David settled onto the graffiti-covered bench and powered up his phone, using his laptop as a portable battery. The startup chime sounded absurdly cheerful in the apocalyptic silence.

  While waiting for it to boot, he scanned his surroundings. Still nothing moving. The quiet was starting to feel oppressive rather than peaceful. Where was the background hum of civilization? Traffic, air conditioners, lawn mowers, anything?

  It was like the world had been put on mute.

  His phone finally loaded the home screen. David immediately dialed 911, fingers moving automatically to the numbers he'd never hoped to use.

  The emergency call icon appeared, then hung. One bar of signal became no signal. The universal "no service" symbol mocked him from the top of the screen.

  "Fantastic." He glared at his discount carrier's logo. "Cheap coverage seemed so smart when I wasn't living through the end times."

  Was this a dead zone, or had the entire cellular network collapsed? Without internet access, he couldn't research cell tower backup power systems or network redundancy. He was flying blind in a world where information might literally mean survival.

  David cranked up his notification volume and tucked the phone away. If he found signal, he'd hear about it immediately.

  Time to find higher ground and see what was left of civilization.

  The walk into downtown proved both monotonous and unnerving.

  His leather dress shoes weren't designed for extended hiking. Mental note: find proper footwear before his feet turned into hamburger. Assuming he lived long enough for blisters to matter.

  David followed his usual bus route, partly from habit and partly because it felt like moving toward solutions. Downtown meant government buildings, hospitals, emergency services. Someone had to be coordinating a response to whatever this was.

  It was also generally in the direction of the pillar of light, so he had that option too. The more he saw the more an alien system loaded into his head offering safety seemed like a good idea.

  The abandoned vehicles told their story in glimpses. A sedan stopped mid-intersection, having just coasted to a halt. A delivery truck with a dented front pressed against a drunken lamp post. A taxi still and cold by the side of the road. In each case he could see a figure in the drivers seat but even a cursory look told him not to approach; dark stains whether red or green were a no go.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  People hadn't fled in panic. They'd simply... stopped. Whatever hit them had been instant and universal. Then fate had caught up with them, slowly quietly over two days while the world slept. Now everyone was dead or worse changing into a monster, hell even dead they were changing into monsters.

  Except for him, apparently.

  An hour of walking brought no cell signal, no signs of life, and no answers. David was over half way to downtown and beginning to seriously consider the possibility that he was the last functioning human in the city when he spotted it.

  The car sat slewed across the street at an odd angle, pressed against a crumpled mailbox. The car had clearly won the presumably low speed collision that halted it with little visible damage. Nothing unusual there. He'd seen dozens of similar vehicles.

  What made him pause was the open driver's door, and the empty drivers seat.

  David approached cautiously, hope warring with caution in his chest. An open door suggested someone had gotten out. Someone who might still be around.

  That hope died the moment he saw the interior.

  Long scratches scored the inside of the driver's door in parallel lines. Deep gouges, like claw marks. The door handle looked mangled, as if something had applied far too much force trying to operate it.

  The seatbelt hung in tatters, clearly torn rather than unbuckled. Frayed nylon fibers clung to jagged metal where something had slashed through the restraint system.

  An acrid stench hit his nostrils. Urine, but wrong somehow. Too sharp, too chemical. The seat was stained, with dry flakey material caked on it and larger pieces lying around like discarded pieces of paper.

  David's analytical mind catalogued the evidence with growing dread. Something had been trapped in this car. Something with claws and intelligence enough to figure out door mechanisms but not enough to understand seatbelts. Something that had panicked and torn its way free.

  Something that used to be human.

  The abandoned backpack on the passenger seat told the rest of the story. Black nylon, expensive looking, the kind young professionals carried to look important without realizing it still marked them as fresh out of college. No human would abandon their belongings unless they were no longer human enough to care.

  David looked around wildly, scanning for threats. The street remained empty, but his newly heightened paranoia made every shadow suspicious.

  He wanted that backpack. His current bag was dragging at his shoulder from the weight of his supplies and supplemented with a plastic bag. This looked perfectly functional.

  More importantly, he wanted the car.

  The electronic key fob sat right there in the little tray designed for it in the center console, practically begging to be stolen. The vehicle appeared undamaged except for the interior carnage. With transportation, he could cover ground faster, carry more supplies, and have protection if something decided to chase him.

  The moral implications of grand theft auto seemed laughably trivial compared to the claw marks on the door.

  "Don't know who you are," David said aloud to the absent driver, "but I'm taking this car to get help. I'll tell the cops you're missing when I find them."

  If he found them.

  The rationalization felt hollow, but it eased his conscience enough to act. He quickly transferred his supplies to the abandoned backpack, dumping its previous contents into the backseat. A bagged lunch, travel-sized Motrin, and some work documents. Plenty of space back there for more stuff.

  A couple of minutes of cleaning and most of the thankfully dry flakey remnants of a chrysalis were out of the car. Strategic use of the now empty plastic bag and his coat to cover the stained seat and he was willing to sit down.

  David grabbed a legal pad and pen from the back, scrawling a quick note with his cell number. He left it on the road where the owner might find it, just in case he was wrong.

  Assuming the owner was still capable of reading. Or caring about abandoned vehicles.

  The car started immediately, engine roaring to life with mechanical confidence. David felt a savage thrill of satisfaction as the first purposeful noise in hours shattered the oppressive silence.

  Finally, he had options again.

  After a couple of tries he even got the drivers door to stay shut.

  As he maneuvered the car away from the mailbox it had struck during its driver's transformation, David considered his possible destinations.

  City Hall promised official responses and emergency coordination. The financial district offered familiar territory and potential resources. The mysterious pillar of light suggested answers to questions he wasn't sure he wanted answered and a dubious promise of safety.

  All three lay ahead, each offering different flavors of hope and horror.

  David put the car in drive and headed toward whatever remained of his world, trying not to think about what had clawed its way out of this very seat and where it might be now.

  The scratches in the door caught the sunlight like accusatory fingers, reminding him that somewhere in this quiet city, monsters wearing human faces were learning to hunt.