Tariq tightened his grip around the creature’s neck, feeling it collapse beneath his hand. Its body went limp, and he dropped it to the ground without another glance, already moving toward the next one.

  His mind was crowded. First was the voice he’d heard earlier—the one that told him to calm down in the bathroom with Zora. He’d tried speaking to it several times since, but it never responded. Then there were the changes. He hadn’t found a mirror yet, so he still hadn’t seen his eyes, but beyond the strength and the healing… there was something else.

  A hunger.

  Not the kind that came from being hungry. Something deeper. Almost as if he—

  Another heartbeat interrupted his thoughts.

  It was faint and small, coming from a cramped office just ahead. Walking up to it Tariq peered through the narrow window in the door. Inside was a large desk, framed photos lining the walls, diplomas neatly arranged—an ordinary professor’s office.

  He grabbed the door handle.

  It snapped off in his hand.

  Tariq stared at it for half a second *Dammit...* he thought shoving his fingers through the hole where the handle had been and yanking. The door tore free from its hinges and crashed to the side as he stepped inside.

  The heartbeat was directly beneath the desk.

  His spine tingled—a warning that whatever it was, it wasn’t friendly.

  A spike shot out from under the desk and slammed into Tariq’s chest before bouncing harmlessly to the floor with a metallic clatter.

  “I’ll… kill… you…” a small, wheezing voice rasped.

  The desk exploded in a shower of spikes. Every single one struck Tariq and fell away uselessly.

  From the wreckage sat a small—

  Tariq froze.

  If these things had once been people, then this… this was just a child.

  “Hey,” Tariq said quietly, raising his hands as he took a slow step forward. “Calm down.”

  The boy looked horrific. His ribs jutted visibly from his sides. One arm was grotesquely long and swollen, the other twisted and mangled. His legs—Tariq swallowed—bone protruded through torn flesh, long and jagged. His chest was bloated like the others, shuddering with every wheezing breath.

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  One eye was completely gone, leaving behind a black, empty socket. The other bulged so far out it looked like it might fall free at any moment.

  Another spike fired toward Tariq.

  This was what Zora couldn’t understand. Whatever these people had become stripped them of reason, leaving only violence behind.

  As Tariq advanced, the child scrambled backward as best he could.

  “Mommy! Mommy!” he cried.

  Tariq’s chest tightened.

  I’m sorry…

  He crouched down and reached out, wrapping his hand gently around the boy’s head.

  Then he clenched his fist.

  The crying stopped. The body went still.

  Tariq remained there for a moment, staring at the child’s remains as his mind worked through what had just happened. He was supposed to feel something—sadness, horror, anger. This was a kid.

  Instead, all he felt was the urge to keep moving.

  He stood.

  Only two heartbeats remained now, both coming from the direction of Zora and Sasha.

  Tariq stepped back into the hallway and paused looking around.

  There were thousands of students on campus today—he was sure of it. So where were the bodies? The school was far too clean. There should have been corpses everywhere.

  The thought made his skin crawl.

  Where did they all go?

  I need to get back.

  He turned and retraced his steps. By now, he had cleared nearly this entire section of campus—almost thirty kills.

  Maybe Zora was right. Maybe he was getting too comfortable killing.

  But they were trying to kill him. Should he really feel any different?

  Tariq stepped through one of the many holes torn through the building and reentered the courtyard, heading back toward Zora and Sasha. As he approached, he could hear them talking.

  Peeking through a break in the wall, he saw them sitting against it.

  “Ready to go?” Tariq asked.

  Sasha jumped at his voice, but Zora simply turned her head toward him, as if she’d known he was coming.

  “I am,” Zora said, “but Sasha’s staying here. Her family doesn’t live nearby, so she’s trying to reach them by phone. Plus she's uh.... well lets just say she doesn't to go anywhere right now.”

  Tariq’s eyes widened.

  My phone.

  He reached into his pocket—then stopped.

  The absence of his phone reminding him that these weren’t the clothes he’d been wearing earlier.

  “Hang on a second,” Tariq muttered, turning.

  “Looking for your phone?” Zora asked smugly.

  He turned back to see her waving it back and forth with a sly grin.

  “Sadly,” she added, shrugging, “the radiation leaking off you cooked it. It doesn’t work anymore.”

  Tariq dropped his head.

  That phone had been a gift from his parents for getting into the master’s program.

  “Does yours still work?” he asked.

  Zora nodded. “I’ve been trying to call both of our parents. No answer. I didn’t try your dad yet—I don’t have his number.”

  Tariq swallowed. “406-555-3876.”

  Zora typed it in and put the phone on speaker. Each ring felt like an eternity as Tariq’s heart pounded.

  Please. Please…

  The call clicked.

  “TARIQ!?” His father’s breathless voice burst through the speaker. Gunshots echoed in the background. “Boy, I’ve been trying to reach you!”

  Tariq stepped forward. “Dad? Are you okay? Is Mom—”

  “Marcus, is that our son?” his mother’s voice cut in. “Tell him to come home!”

  Another burst of gunfire followed.

  “Listen to me,” his father said urgently. “Do not come home. Your mother—she isn’t—”

  The line went dead.

  Tariq didn’t think.

  He was already moving.

  The world blurred as he ran, tearing through cars, trees, and buildings as he sprinted toward home.