TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains horrific scenes and descriptions that might be disturbing to some readers.
Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised.----------------------------
First floor of the
Contamination Zone
----------------------------Climbing the stairs, they step into a silent hallway stretching ahead, devoid of anything of note—yet an undeniable unease creeps up their spines. The air feels thick, almost oppressive, as they push forward through this unfamiliar space. The floral scent clogging their gas filters—stronger than before—suggests the presence of infected to accompany it, yet not a single one lurks in sight. Dense vegetation coils around rusted metal and crumbling walls, claiming the space as its own. This place has clearly been abandoned for years, but the eerie stillness makes it feel almost... preserved.
Based on their research, stations like this should have a set of terminals before the stairs, where passengers once scanned their tickets before boarding the trains. They were large, open spaces, differing in minor ways but always following the same core design. Yet here, those familiar elements are missing. No terminals, no signs of boarding areas. It contradicts everything in their reports. Venturing deeper, they enter a section that could have once been a kiosk. Stalls line the walls in both directions, their metal shutters pulled down, as if the vendors had closed shop for the night—except night never ended. Tables and chairs, long abandoned, rot where they stand. The floor is littered with decayed remnants of the old world—newspapers, journals, pamphlets, and spoiled, unidentifiable food.
Amina kneels and picks up one of the faded pamphlets, her eyes catching a familiar face. A woman stands in front of an airplane, posed with confidence, her resemblance to Amina's mother striking enough to make her breath hitch. The headline reads:
"Sasha Jackal: Youngest President in Airline Co. History."
She frowns. Why would something like this be here, of all places? This station has been shut off from the outside world for years. Had someone brought these in? The irony isn't lost to her— to think an airline company would be promoted here, while their feet have never left the ground, and likely never will, makes her scoff in disbelief. Reaching the end of the corridor, they expect to find stairs leading to the upper platforms, where more trains would have once run. Instead, they are met with yet another hallway.
Kayden's gut twists.
That doesn't make sense. There shouldn't be two floors with hallways. Hell, there shouldn't even be one. Train stations weren't built like this. It feels... wrong.
The new hallway stretches out in three directions, lined with closed doors on both sides—left, right, and straight ahead. The arrangement is unsettling, more reminiscent of an apartment complex than a transportation hub. What is this place? An outpost before the actual station? Some failed experiment in urban planning? Kayden glances over his shoulder and finds the same confusion mirrored in his friends' eyes. The grip on his knife tightens.
Something definitely isn't right.
Still, he wonders what it must have been like, back when these stations were filled with life—when people weren't terrified to stand near the tracks. When the metallic serpents of the past roared through the tunnels, carrying passengers to places he would never see. The thoughts are nothing short of exciting, but for the first time in a long while, he's grateful he never had to hear that sound. He believes he wouldn't bear it.
Billy taps Kayden on the shoulder, holding up a notepad with a hastily scribbled message:
"This place is giving me the creeps. Something's wrong here." Kayden meets his gaze and nods.
Mell quickly follows, flipping her own notepad around.
"Gotta agree. This place feels off. Not like any other zone we've been to. Way too much vegetation too." Another nod from Kayden—this time, more firm. His expression sharpens as he turns to Reyna. She doesn't hesitate, holding up her own message.
"We should wrap this up quick then. No noise. No fuck ups. Grab samples. Regroup on the stairs.
Let's get out of here ASAP."

YOU ARE READING
Vyral
Mystery / ThrillerTrigger warning - Severely sensitive topics. Around 25 years ago, an unknown virus plagued the Earth- targeting none other than the cells responsible for constructing one's genetic code. Humans, animals, plants- any living matter that comes in cont...