Maarg woke up to the sound of quiet chatter and the smell of breakfast drifting from the kitchen. Sunlight peeked through the window, casting long shadows across the room. He groggily sat up, rubbing his face, but as soon as he did, last night's events crashed into his mind like a freight train.
The zombie… the jump… the hazmat suit guy.
His eyes widened. The man in the hazmat suit—he completely forgot about him!
But it was obvious what must have happened. The guy had turned into a zombie. There was no other explanation. That meant there could be more of them nearby.
Trying to shake off the unsettling feeling in his gut, Maarg glanced at Jack, who was still half-asleep, his face buried in his pillow.
"Jack," Maarg whispered, nudging his friend's shoulder.
Jack groaned. "Go away."
"Dude, get up. It's important."
Jack let out an exaggerated sigh before finally rolling over. "What?"
Maarg hesitated for a second. He didn't want to freak everyone out, but Jack needed to know. He leaned in and lowered his voice.
"I saw the guy from yesterday—the one in the hazmat suit," Maarg murmured. "He turned."
That woke Jack up. He sat up quickly, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean he turned?"
Maarg swallowed. "He became a zombie. I—I took care of the zombie that turned him, but we might have a problem."
Jack was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he threw the blanket off and got out of bed. "Zombies? Show me."
Maarg led Jack toward the window, his pulse quickening. He wasn't looking forward to seeing the mess he had made last night, but it was necessary. Jack needed to see it to believe him.
But when Maarg pulled back the curtain and pointed outside…
Nothing was there.
The bloodstains, the severed head, the body—everything was gone.
Jack stared at the empty alleyway, then turned to Maarg with a blank expression. "…You sure you weren't dreaming?"
Maarg felt a chill crawl up his spine.
It was real. He knew it was real.
So where the hell did the body go?
Maarg stood frozen by the window, his mind racing. The blood, the body—everything had vanished. It didn't make sense.
Before he could dwell on it further, his mother's voice rang through the house.
"Breakfast is ready!"
Maarg shook his head, pushing aside the unsettling thoughts. He'd deal with it later. Right now, acting normal was the best course of action.
As he made his way downstairs, he found Jack and Sammy already sitting at the dining table. His father, sipping tea with his usual morning newspaper in hand, barely glanced up as Maarg took his seat.
The table was filled with plates of hot aloo parathas, bowls of yogurt, and a small dish of pickles—his mother's usual weekend spread.
"Eat up, boys," Maarg's mom said cheerfully as she poured tea for everyone. "You'll need the energy."
As they ate, the conversation drifted to everyday topics—sports, politics, the latest news.
"Another lockdown might be coming," Maarg's father muttered, scanning the paper. "Flights are already getting canceled."Jack snorted. "Great. Just what we need. Another Covid repeat."
Sammy, who had been silently chewing her food, glanced up. "It's not exactly like Covid, though. The news says the symptoms are different."
Maarg's mother sighed. "Whatever it is, let's just hope it doesn't last as long as the last one."
Maarg listened to the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere.
Something felt off.
It wasn't just the missing body. It was something deeper—an instinct telling him that whatever was happening wasn't just another pandemic.
The way that zombie smiled at him.
The way he moved last night—like something beyond human.
He clenched his fist under the table, forcing himself to stay calm.
The others might think this was just another virus, but Maarg couldn't shake the feeling that something much worse was coming.
And whatever it was…
They weren't ready.