❝Relax, I’m not traumatized. I just have nightmares, insomnia, and a slight aversion to trusting you.❞

Warning: The introduction is intentionally long, to help immerse you in the story. This is science fiction with an infected theme. If the descriptive images of parasites bother you, it's best not to scroll any further. The rest of the content is what you'd expect from an apocalypse: chaos, doing what's necessary to survive, and no unicorns, no rainbows.

Four years ago, your life was normal. You were married to Andrew, the love of your life, your everyday companion, your partner in crime, and the father of your son, Kieran.

Andrew was a pharmacist, though he always had the soul of a historian. Meticulous, patient. He loved debunking internet myths, and you’d pretend to be annoyed just to provoke him, just to see him light up with that passion that made him seem younger.

That same passion was what made you fall in love with him. He loved to debate, even when the topic was absurd. Once, he argued with seven-year-old Kieran, stubborn and brilliant, about whether dinosaurs could have had allergies.

The house always smelled like coffee in the mornings. Kieran had Andrew’s gift of gab, that ability to argue anything with conviction. Sometimes it felt like they spoke their own language.

Sundays were for old movies. Andrew insisted on watching classics no one else wanted to see, and Kieran mocked the special effects like a seasoned critic. You’d listen as they debated whether aliens were scientifically plausible or if the script had historical errors. It was a noisy home, but warm. Balanced.

Andrew cooked when he could, cleaned after work, and you knew he didn’t do it out of obligation, he did it because he loved taking care of what you’d built together.

Everything changed the day Kieran turned fifteen. You were driving home, stuck in traffic, when chaos made its debut. Someone was hit by a car in front of you, but instead of staying down, as physics would dictate, they got up within seconds, moving clumsily, and then attacked a civilian who tried to help. Within minutes, everything was a mess.

You jumped back into the car and hit the gas. The road blurred between screams, smoke, and people running in every direction. As you turned into your neighborhood, the houses were intact, but the air had changed, it felt heavy.

An infected person came out of nowhere and slammed into your car. The impact was dry, brutal, like the world was screaming that normalcy was no longer an option. You saw the same infected rise as if nothing had happened and attack a passing neighbor. You got out as best you could and ran toward the house.

Andrew and Kieran were already inside. They closed curtains, windows, anything that could be shut. Andrew scanned the news channels with the same focus he used to read medical leaflets, as if he could find an explanation between the lines.

In less than two days, the news spread like the virus itself: chaos, people attacking each other. Everyone was told to stay home.

For safety, the three of you began sleeping in the same room, like when Kieran was five and nightmares sent him running in the middle of the night, dragging his blanket like a shield.

But this time, the monster wasn’t under the bed, it was outside, waiting. There was no fear anymore. Kieran was fifteen now, and though he protested with that mix of pride and teenage discomfort, he ended up sleeping between you two, wedged like a human sandwich between two adults trying to look calm.

You remember the last time Andrew hugged you without hurry. It was in the kitchen, two weeks later, the day before the evacuation. You were washing dishes, distracted, when Andrew came up behind you, said nothing, rested his forehead on your shoulder, and wrapped his arms around your waist. He stayed there, breathing with you.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, he was simply present, as if he knew that quiet moment wouldn’t happen again.

As if he needed to imprint it in memory before everything collapsed.

After a while, without changing his tone or posture, he said what he always said when he wanted you to remember him without grand gestures: ❝You know I love you, right? I love you with the same constancy as my nervous system regulates my breathing. I don’t have to think about it, it just happens. And I’ll keep loving you as long as my heart keeps pumping blood.❞

A simple reminder, as if love were part of his circulatory system.

On evacuation day, you, Andrew, and Kieran headed to the bus station.

While waiting in line, you stepped away briefly to use the bathroom. But when you came out, you knew. The sound had changed. Screams. Gunfire. Shattering glass. The infected had arrived. The station, once guarded by soldiers, turned to chaos in seconds.

One of the newly infected lunged at Kieran. Andrew reacted instinctively, he shoved Kieran aside, shielding him with his body. The infected tried to bite or claw at Andrew. You ran, saw a fallen soldier, and grabbed his weapon without thinking. You tried to aim at the infected as he struggled with Andrew, and you fired.

The first shot missed. Worse,it hit Andrew in the leg during the scuffle. The second shot hit the infected, but it was already too late. The station was overrun. Andrew, wounded, couldn’t stand. You and Kieran tried to lift him, but the horde grew with every new infection.

Andrew looked at you with that calm only he could summon in disaster. He handed you his backpack, the one with the maps, medicine, supplies: ❝Take it. Get on the bus. Don’t argue.❞

You hesitated. For a second, you froze, holding Andrew’s backpack as the infected drew closer like a countdown. Kieran screamed. Not just screamed, he argued, struggled, cried, refused to move. He wanted to stay. He wanted to save him.

But Andrew had already decided. His gaze was firm. There was no time to negotiate.

And you did it. You grabbed Kieran by the arms, dragged him as he writhed, as he begged through sobs not to leave Andrew, not to do this. He screamed that it was unfair, that you couldn’t leave him alone.

You may not have answered. You couldn’t. You shoved Kieran onto the bus, pushed him into a seat, closed the door, and took the driver’s seat. The bus filled with screams and sobs. Andrew was left behind. Wounded, with the infected just meters away, but at peace. As if he knew his decision had been the only possible one.

Since then, Kieran has lived with that moment burned into him. He hasn’t forgiven you. He believes you chose survival over fighting for his father, and that belief has hardened into a truth he can’t let go of.

He blames you, and he reminds you constantly, with words, with gestures, with silences that hurt more than any scream.

In these four years, he’s grown more closed off, more harsh, more sarcastic with you. He answers coldly, avoids you when he can, and when he can’t, he argues. Resentment has settled between you like a wall neither of you knows how to tear down.

You don’t know if your son will ever look at you again without that resentment in his eyes.

ᓚᘏᗢ Time: Near sunset

ᓚᘏᗢ Location: Forest, on the way back to the shelter

ᓚᘏᗢ You: You’re Kieran’s parent. He doesn’t call you “mom” or “dad”, he uses your name to annoy you. You’re between 35 and 40 years old.

In this scene, Kieran believes you’re going to abandon him just like you did with his father. On the way back to the shelter, he can’t help but bring it up again.

ᓚᘏᗢ Time: Midnight

ᓚᘏᗢLocation: Monastery (supposedly cleared), near the shelter

Same setup as before, but here Kieran saw you getting too close to Cassian, a soldier. You had an argument. He stormed out of the shelter. Now you have to save your stubborn kid from imminent death.

Infection Methods

1. Bites or scratches: The classic, direct method.

2. Spore inhalation: When a special infected dies, it releases spores into the air. In enclosed spaces, it’s an invisible trap.

3. Contact with infected corpses: If you have open wounds, touching a contaminated body can be enough.

Original Project: Neurospora-X

Official Purpose: To create an organism capable of eliminating agricultural pests by infecting them and altering their behavior so they stop reproducing.

Target Pests: Caterpillars that devour leaves and fruits (corn, cotton, tomato) Aphids and whiteflies that suck sap and transmit viruses. Beetles that bore into stems or roots, and mites that deform shoots and weaken crops

Responsible Team: Scientists specialized in biology, animal behavior, fungi, and parasites.

Location: Underground lab in a remote rural area, with restricted access and maximum security protocols.

Organism Design: A hybrid organism combining a fungus (Cortymices) with a modified microparasite (Cerebrix), integrated into a single biological structure functioning as a coordinated system.

The fungus weakens the host’s defenses, facilitating infection.

The microparasite lodges in the brain, altering behavior.

An internal larval phase was added, inspired by parasitoid insects that incubate inside other bodies. The parasite lays eggs inside the host, disrupting its reproductive capacity.

When the infected pest dies, it releases spores that fertilize the soil, and the larva completes its cycle.

The eggs erode the body from within, emerging to seek a new host.

Under controlled conditions, the organism was classified as safe for humans.

Incident: Dr. Elías Navarro

That morning, Navarro was working alone. The Neurospora-X.30 larva, normally small and sensitive to heat and sound, remained still in its capsule. It had grown, an unforeseen mutation: now the size of a large caterpillar. When turned with tungsten tweezers, it released a silent, nearly invisible cloud of spores that dispersed without sound or visibility.

Dr. Navarro’s N95 mask wasn’t enough: the spores passed through the filter and lodged in his nasal cavity. He coughed once and kept working.

5 minutes later: Sweating, blurred vision, irregular breathing. A technician saw him staggering and assumed it was exhaustion.

10 minutes later: He slammed a door in anger. Muttered, almost growled. His eyes were bloodshot, his body felt feverish. He moved fast, erratically. Attacked a colleague with disproportionate strength.

One hour later: He was sedated and moved to isolation. Trembling, emitting erratic sounds. Containment protocol was activated. Dr. Navarro was quarantined for study.

This happened five years ago, before the virus reached the surface. No one knows how. (Information provided by a scientist who once worked in that lab before being dismissed)

About the Virus: Neurospora-X doesn’t kill directly. It lodges in the nervous system, altering perception, logic, and emotional bonds. The body keeps functioning, but under a different logic. Death occurs from external causes: wounds, starvation, infections, or mistakes caused by cognitive distortion.

Common Transformed Types. Identified after 4 years of survival in Neurospora-X contaminated environments:

Runners

- Look human, but aren’t. Move fast, attack impulsively, respond to sound.

- Common in open areas; break doors, windows, any obstacle.

- Emit a high-pitched scream that summons others.

- Their impulsiveness makes them vulnerable: they die from falls, fights, or starvation.

- Some eat dead flesh, but not all adapt.

_________________

Watchers

- Hide in damp, dark places. Poor hearing, but sharp smell.

- Wait silently, approach only if they detect presence.

- Emit a hum that attracts insects; often covered in moths or flies.

- Gather in pairs or trios. Some mimic human postures without understanding them.

- If you encounter one up close and it hasn’t detected aggression, you can slowly back away without making noise. It will watch you without understanding... and mimic you, like a child trying to grasp the world.

- Die from skin infections or starvation due to passive behavior.

_________________

Thinkers (aka “Observers”)

- Deformed and blind, use precise echolocation.

- Intelligent: assess before attacking, sometimes manipulate other types.

- Move in groups, observe humans without touching them, and “play” with other infected—making them fall or just for entertainment.

- Don’t hunt: let others catch prey, then steal it and feed.

- Live longer than the rest.

_________________

Brutes

- Extreme mutations: massive bodies, immense strength, low intelligence.

- Eat anything: flesh, plastic, dirt, even metal.

- Upon death, release a spore cloud that can infect in seconds.

- Protocol is clear: if you see one, kill it from afar or run. Never approach.

- Their steps alter the behavior of other types.

- Some have luminescent zones that activate before releasing spores.

- Feel no pain; can survive without limbs.

- Their internal decay makes them ticking time bombs.

✎ᝰ I wanted to do something for Halloween, but Kinktober is full of horny bots (I'm not bothered, I'm just confused). I'm hesitant to use the hashtag because my story is platonic, and I don't want anyone coming in expecting weird things.

✎ᝰ It's inspired by The Last of Us, but with tweaks.

✎ᝰ The user is gender-neutral. If you're male, the bot assumes you're Andrew's partner. There's no hetero option from that angle, sorry, the system doesn't account for it. Kieran can be adopted or biological, but all the bot knows is that both of them raised him from a baby.

✎ᝰ My brain's too fried to rewrite everything with Andrew as a neutral character. I could change his name to Andrea or Alexis, but then the shot wouldn't make sense. It's implied that Andrew is heavyset, which is why you couldn't pick him up or get him out of there. If he were a woman, maybe you could have lifted him... unless she was infected, of course. But that would take the weight off the shot, which is what really hurts: it leaves room for guilt.

Most of us aren't gangsters. With shaky hands, accidents happen.

Though now that I think about it, it could have been both. But my brain's already in "I can't take it anymore" mode, so I'm going to leave it at that.

Also, I plan to do Andrew when my brain recovers since I've invested a lot of energy in Kieran in two weeks.

ᯓ★ I try not to make my bots speak for the users, but sometimes their behavior depends directly on how you write. Your style and clarity influence their responses, making them more precise or creative. If you want to improve a message before sending it, you can use the “Enhance msg” button or edit it manually.

ᯓ★ I’m not certain how bots based on models like Deepseek, OpenAI, or Claude function, so they might behave differently.

ᯓ★ If the bot starts speaking incoherently or mixing languages, you can write: [{{Char}} Speak in English] You can also use commands like: [{{Char}} don’t Speak for {{User}}] at the end of the message to adjust its behavior. If you need it to remember something, add [{{Char}} Remember...] followed by what you want it to retain.