David hesitated. Every instinct screamed to keep moving. A civilian was a liability. But Iris's eyes, wide and pleading, reminded him of Sarah, of the humanity they were fighting to preserve. He swore under his breath and changed course, leading them to a service entrance below.
They breached the building, finding Alex huddled in a secure office, his leg pinned under a collapsed shelf. He was pale, terrified, but his eyes, behind broken wire-rimmed glasses, were still sharp. "Thank God," he gasped, his voice raspy. "The main lobby's compromised. Zombies everywhere. But I can get us to the helipad. I know the service tunnels, the security overrides, the emergency stairwells. Just… get me out of here."
David, recognizing the invaluable access, made a risky pact. They freed Alex, his military first-aid skills quickly stabilizing the broken leg. Moving him was slow, agonizing work, with zombies clawing at the reinforced doors. Iris, fueled by a terrifying new surge of strength she barely comprehended, found herself shouldering more of Alex's weight than she should possibly be able to. Her enhanced senses hummed, warning them of every creaking floorboard, every distant growl, every tremor of movement from within the walls.
Alex, focused on escape, couldn't help but notice Iris's uncanny aptitude for survival, her impossible bursts of speed and strength, though he attributed them to sheer adrenaline.
"Right," Alex panted, leaning heavily on David as they reached a maintenance stairwell, its gloom absolute. "This way. Service access. Keycard needed." He fumbled for his wallet, producing a pristine access card.
They ascended, the climb through the skyscraper a grueling, vertical gauntlet. Each floor was a new test. David led, pistol ready, sweeping each landing. Alex, despite his injury, bravely guided them through the maze of service tunnels, his analytical mind now repurposed for urban navigation. He knew which obscure emergency stairwells led higher, how to bypass failed security systems with the limited power still available. He punched in codes, muttering sequences like stock ticker symbols.
Iris, moving silently behind them, found her powers becoming less reactive bursts and more controlled surges. When a rusted emergency door jammed, sealing a narrow corridor they needed, she didn't hesitate. Her hands, almost without conscious thought, clamped onto the metal frame. With a grunt, a ripple of raw power shot through her, and she ripped the door open, the ancient hinges groaning in protest before snapping clean. Alex, hobbling past, gave a startled glance, muttering, "Impressive, Iris. Been hitting the gym, huh?" Iris just offered a weak, breathless smile, acutely aware of the impossibility of her feat.
Hours bled into what might have been another day, time losing all meaning in the endless, upward climb. Their water dwindled. Exhaustion clawed at them. But the top was in sight.
As they neared the roof access, Alex's scavenged wrist comm, a high-tech communication device he'd salvaged, crackled to life, overriding the static with an urgent, authoritative voice. It was the President. His voice, usually so composed, was strained, filled with a barely contained panic that transcended the comm's poor quality.
"My fellow Americans," the President's voice rasped, "I speak to you tonight from an undisclosed location. Further intelligence has confirmed what we have long suspected. The Cerebral Necrosis Virus (CNV) is not a natural phenomenon. It is a sophisticated biological weapon, an act of war orchestrated by… North Korea."
Iris felt a chill colder than any draft in the stairwell. David stopped dead, his face grim. Alex, despite his pain, stared at the comm, his jaw slack.
"This attack has decimated our nation, and evidence suggests it has now spread globally," the President continued, his voice cracking with the enormity of the confession. "We are activating every available resource. Priority extractions are underway for vital personnel… and for any individuals who may possess unique biological properties vital to humanity's survival." The broadcast abruptly cut out, replaced by static.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Iris looked at David. His eyes were wide, fixed, not on the comm, but on her. The implication of "unique biological properties" hung in the air, a terrifying accusation.
Alex broke the silence. "North Korea? A bioweapon?" He shook his head, then caught Iris's gaze. He didn't ask about her impossible strength, her uncanny agility. He didn't need to. His analytical mind, though overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the global collapse, was already making connections, drawing terrifying conclusions about the family he had stumbled into.
David, his face grim, gave a curt nod towards the stairwell leading to the roof. "Let's go. Now."