3.Catastrophe
1728 Words
Nothing is eternal, and the end of civilization is destruction.
Jeff ignored the stunned onlookers.
Shards of tempered glass crunched under his boots as he stepped forward, his focus solely on the prize.
His hand closed around the hilt of the Purple Lightning sword, pulling it free from its violated display.
The metal felt cold, heavy, real.
Just over a kilogram and ten centimeters of lethal history, its blade shimmering with a cold light even in the museum’s artificial glow.
Near the guard, two intricate, archaic characters were etched into the steel – undoubtedly the sword’s name.
Its balance was exquisite, yet Jeff knew its true weight: a deadly responsibility for an untrained hand.
One wrong swing could cripple himself as easily as an enemy.
But worry was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Evolution was coming.
With it would come heightened reflexes, coordination, and strength – memories from his past life assured him that even non-awakened humans gained significant physical advantages.
Some, blessed with power awakenings, would achieve feats like lifting half a ton single-handedly.
This sword would be his key to survival in those first brutal hours.
He gave the blade an experimental flick, the movement awkward but purposeful.
The sound made the rotund livestreamer flinch, then gesticulate wildly into his phone, his voice a high-pitched mix of fear and excitement.
The old man beside him remained stoic, a rock in the growing chaos.
But it was the girl who truly surprised Jeff. Instead of fear, fierce curiosity burned in her eyes as she watched him wield the weapon.
She took a step closer, completely unfazed by the blaring alarms or the shattered glass.
“That sword… can I see it?” she asked, her voice cutting through the din, her hand almost reaching out.
Jeff ignored her. The sword was secured.
Now, the armor. His gaze snapped to the chainmail hauberk displayed nearby – a practical choice for its flexibility and vital protection against bites and scratches in the early chaos, far better than rigid plate for his needs.
He began moving towards it, his senses screaming about the ticking clock.
“Young man!”
The old man’s voice was authoritative, cutting through the alarm’s wail.
“Put the sword down. Whatever trouble you’re in, violence isn’t the answer. We can help.”
His composure suggested influence, perhaps even power.
Jeff offered a tight, humorless smile and a shake of his head.
His voice, when he spoke, was chillingly calm.
“Help? Look around. The alarms have been screaming for minutes. Where are the guards? The staff?”
He paused, letting the unsettling silence behind the alarm sink in.
“More importantly… do you feel it yet? A creeping dizziness? A flush of heat spreading through your body? An itch of anger just under your skin?”
His words were a cold splash of reality. The girl blinked, her focus shifting inward.
The old man’s sharp eyes narrowed fractionally.
The livestreamer clutched his head, whimpering, “I… I do feel hot… dizzy…”
Perfect distraction. Jeff used the moment.
He reached the chainmail display, reversed the Purple Lightning in his grip, and slammed the heavy pommel into the protective glass with all his might.
It starred, then cascaded down in a glittering shower.
In one fluid motion, he snatched the hauberk, its interlocked rings surprisingly heavy and cold.
He shrugged into it hastily; it was too large, hanging loosely on his frame, the metal links clinking softly with every move.
“You poisoned us!” the fat man shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Jeff.
“That’s why they’re sick!” He gestured wildly towards the entrance.
The girl, jolted by the accusation and the second act of theft, snapped. “Stop!” she yelled, launching herself at Jeff.
Her foot lashed out in a blur, a sharp, practiced kick aimed at his ribs.
Jeff’s reaction wasn’t skilled swordsmanship; it was pure, hard-wired survival instinct.
He twisted, bringing the Purple Lightning around in a desperate, sweeping parry.
The legendary sharpness hummed through the air.
Had it connected, it would have sheared through flesh and bone.
But the girl was fast.
Her kick retracted like a snapped whip, her body flowing into a defensive stance.
Her fingers curled into a beak-like shape – unmistakably a crane-style Kung Fu posture – aimed at Jeff’s sword wrist in a lightning-fast counter.
Her technique was clean, efficient, dangerous.
Jeff knew immediately he couldn’t match her skill in a protracted fight.
He risked losing the sword.
He jerked his arm back, stumbling away to create distance.
“Enough!” Jeff barked, his voice raw.
He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed beyond her shoulder. “Look! Look behind you! Now!”
The girl’s lip curled in disdain, suspecting a cheap trick.
But the fat man’s next sound wasn’t accusation; it was a guttural, terror-stricken gasp. “Oh my GOD! What’s happening?!”
That primal fear cut through her skepticism. She spun around.
The young couple near the entrance were no longer arguing about harems.
The man was on his knees, clawing at his throat, his face a mask of agony.
Violent, wracking coughs tore through him, spraying flecks of bright crimson onto the polished floor.
Blood streamed freely from his nostrils, mingling with the sputum.
The woman beside him jerked spasmodically, her movements stiff and unnatural, as if her joints had locked.
Dark, ugly bruises were blooming beneath the skin of her neck and arms.
A thin trail of blood leaked from the corner of her eye.
Their desperate, gurgling cries for help were barely intelligible, choked by the fluid filling their lungs.
The metallic tang of blood began to permeate the air.
“No! NO!” The girl’s earlier bravado evaporated, replaced by raw horror.
She instinctively took a step towards them, her martial stance forgotten in the face of visceral suffering.
“It’s him! He poisoned them!” the fat man babbled, retreating, his phone camera still shakily recording the unfolding nightmare.
“You i***t!” Jeff snarled, struggling to fasten the ill-fitting chainmail.
“Why poison just them? Why not you? Why not me? Look outside! Or better yet,” he jabbed a finger at the livestreamer, “check your damn phone! See what’s happening out there!”
The fat man’s eyes widened. He fumbled with his phone, switching frantically between apps.
His face drained of all color as he saw the feeds.
“H-he’s… he’s right!” he stammered, voice trembling. “It’s… it’s everywhere! Look!”
He held up the screen.
Another livestream showed a street scene: people staggering, collapsing, coughing blood onto sidewalks.
A news feed fragment showed a reporter clutching her throat before the signal cut out.
Social media was exploding with panicked posts: “People dropping like flies downtown!”
“Hospital lines around the block!”
“What is happening?!”
“BLOOD!”
The confirmation hit Jeff like a physical blow. Relief warred with crushing despair.
His nightmare was real. He was spared the initial horror, but condemned to relive the apocalypse.
The world was plunging into darkness again.
He could almost hear the distant, multiplying screams, the overwhelmed emergency lines collapsing under the weight of panicked calls, the sirens wailing unanswered.
Help wouldn’t come. Doctors, police… they were fighting for their own survival now.
The girl frantically pulled out her own phone, fingers stabbing at the screen. “Grandpa… nothing… no signal… or… or no one’s answering!”
Her voice cracked, thick with tears and rising panic. The fear was absolute now.
The old man, though visibly shaken by the gruesome scene before him and the confirmation of global catastrophe, remained the calmest.
His sharp eyes, filled with a terrible understanding, locked onto Jeff.
“Young man,” he said, his voice low but carrying through the chaos – the blaring alarm, the couple’s death throes, the fat man’s whimpers.
“You seem to know what this is. Tell us. What is happening?”
Jeff met his gaze, the weight of his grim knowledge pressing down.
He tightened his grip on the Purple Lightning, the cold metal a stark anchor. “A virus,” he stated, his voice flat, devoid of hope.
“An ancient one. Locked away for millennia, maybe. They found traces in the Arctic permafrost recently, remember the news? Scientists. Playing with fire.”
A bitter edge entered his tone.
“There was an explosion. At a high-security Arctic lab. Days ago. The containment failed. It’s airborne. Spreads like wildfire.”
He gestured towards the convulsing couple, a portrait of horrific suffering.
“That’s what it does to some. Fast. Violent. Their systems just… rupture. Bleed out. Nerves misfire, lock up.”
He looked back at the old man, the girl, the trembling livestreamer – and himself.
“The rest of us? We got the ‘lucky’ strain. Or maybe just more time. Dizziness. Fever. This… agitation. It’s the virus taking hold. Settling in. Changing us.”
He paused, the next words hanging heavy.
“We have maybe… six, eight hours. If we can’t control the fever, stabilize somehow… we burn out. Die. Or…”
He glanced back at the couple, their movements growing weaker, “…maybe become something else. But the world out there?”
He jerked his chin towards the museum entrance, towards the city beyond.
“It’s already over. The Catastrophe has begun. This is the end.”
Silence descended, thick and suffocating, broken only by the relentless scream of the alarm, the wet, diminishing gasps from the entrance, and the low, terrified whimpers of the livestreamer.
The air hung heavy with the coppery scent of blood and the palpable weight of extinction.
The dimming light filtering through the high windows painted long, distorted shadows, stretching towards them like grasping claws.
The polished floors, once reflecting curated history, now mirrored only the crimson horror unfolding at the threshold and the pale, stunned faces of those who might be the last witnesses to a dying world.
Outside, the faint, discordant symphony of sirens, screams, and shattering glass had begun – the true overture to the end.
Jeff adjusted the unfamiliar weight of the chainmail, the cold metal biting into his shoulder, and tightened his grip on the ancient sword.
Survival, against impossible odds, was now the only history that mattered.
The clock was ticking.
- Writer
