CSapter 3 — LUS

The blue text hovered in the air. Impossible. Evelyn stared at it while her pulse slammed violently against her ribs.

SURVIVAL PROTOCOL DETECTED.

COMPATIBLE HOST CONFIRMED.

INITIALIZING LOGISTIC UTILIZATION SYSTEM…

The letters glowed faintly against the bathroom mirror before dissolving piece by piece into static.

Then they disappeared completely.

Silence crashed into the room.

Damian stared at her from the doorway. “Okay, now you’re seriously freaking me out.”

Evelyn blinked hard. Nothing. No glowing words. No hallucinations. Only her own pale reflection stared back at her above the sink. Maybe she finally lost her mind after dying. Honestly, that would make more sense.

Damian crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Do you want me to call out of work or something?”

The concern in his voice almost sounded genuine.

Almost.

Evelyn dragged her gaze away from the mirror slowly. “No.”

Her voice came out rough.

Damian frowned. “You sure?”

No, she was absolutely not sure, but she knew one thing with terrifying clarity: She could not afford to look unstable right now. Not when every second mattered,  not when she suddenly had another chance.

Evelyn walked past him into the bedroom, ignoring the way his eyes followed her carefully now. The apartment felt too small all of a sudden. Too soft. Too exposed.

The familiar scent of Damian’s cologne drifted through the room, turning her stomach.

Three months. That was all she had. Maybe less. If the timeline changed, her chest tightened sharply at the thought. In her first life, the early reports were slow to start.

Violent assaults.Animalistic behavior.Quarantine rumors online.

Then came the first videos.

Then the panic buying.

Then the blackouts.

Then people started eating each other in the streets.

Evelyn grabbed her laptop from the desk near the window and opened it with shaking hands.

“What are you doing?” Damian asked.

“Checking something.”

“You threw up because of a nightmare, and now you’re acting like a conspiracy theorist.”

She ignored him.

Search results flooded the screen almost instantly.

VIOLENT ATTACK AT SEATTLE TRANSIT HUB

UNEXPLAINED FEVER CASES RISE IN VANCOUVER

QUARANTINE RUMORS DENIED BY CDC

Her blood ran cold. The dates were wrong, and it was too early. Those articles shouldn’t exist yet.

A low electronic tone pulsed suddenly through her skull.

LUS INITIALIZATION COMPLETE.

Evelyn jerked upright violently.

Damian swore. “Okay, seriously.”

A translucent blue screen flickered across her vision.

LOGISTIC UTILIZATION SYSTEM ONLINE.

PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: MAXIMIZE HOST SURVIVAL PROBABILITY.

CURRENT SURVIVAL RATE:3.7%

Evelyn’s stomach dropped.

Three point seven percent.

“That’s comforting,” she muttered under her breath.

Damian blinked. “What?”

The screen shifted again.

FIRST-TIME HOST REWARD PACKAGE AVAILABLE.

INITIAL TASKS GENERATED.

TASK ONE: SECURE CLEAN WATER SOURCE.

TASK TWO: ACQUIRE NON-PERISHABLE FOOD.

TASK THREE: OBTAIN A DEFENSIVE WEAPON.

OUTBREAK WINDOW:89 DAYS REMAINING.

Evelyn stared at the number.

Eighty-nine days.

In her first life, it had been ninety-two. Her pulse sped up immediately. The timeline really was changing.

“What are you looking at?” Damian asked slowly.

The concern in his voice had shifted now. Less caring, more unsettled.

Evelyn realized she’d gone completely still. She closed the laptop carefully.

“Nothing.”

“Evie—”

“I said nothing.”

The sharpness in her voice surprised both of them.

Damian frowned immediately. “Jesus. Fine.”

He stepped back toward the bedroom, muttering something under his breath about needing coffee.

Evelyn barely heard him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floating blue interface only she could see.

3.7% survival probability.

The number sat there calmly. Clinical. Unemotional. Like Evelyn's death was already calculated.

A cold knot tightened low in her stomach.

In her first life, she and Damian survived almost eight months before the alleyway.

Eight months of starvation, infection zones, freezing nights, and watching people become animals.

And even then, she only died because she trusted him.

So why was the survival rate so low?

Unless… Unless she had always been destined to die. The thought hollowed her out for half a second.

Then anger replaced it. No. Not this time.

Evelyn stood abruptly and crossed to the bedroom closet.

The sight of their shared life nearly stopped her cold.

Damian’s clothes hung beside hers.

His sneakers kicked carelessly near the dresser.

The framed photo from a beach trip was sitting crooked on the shelf because he always forgot to straighten it after grabbing his watch.

Once upon a time, all of this felt comforting.

Now it looked temporary.

Disposable.

Like the life of someone already dead.

“What are you doing now?” Damian called from the kitchen.

“Looking for batteries.”

“Why?”

Evelyn opened the emergency storage bin on the closet floor. Nearly empty. Of course it was.

Last time she checked it, Damian had laughed and called her paranoid for buying storm supplies.

Now her chest tightened, looking at how little they had.

A flashlight. Two candles. A dead portable charger.

Worthless.

The interface pulsed again.

WARNING: SUPPLY ACQUISITION WINDOW RAPIDLY NARROWING.

RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE RESOURCE PRIORITIZATION.

A new notification appeared beneath it.

BEGINNER REWARD AVAILABLE UPON TASK COMPLETION.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes slightly.

“What exactly are you?” she whispered.

The response appeared instantly.

LOGISTIC UTILIZATION SYSTEM: AN ADAPTIVE SURVIVAL SUPPORT FRAMEWORK DESIGNED TO IMPROVE HOST CONTINUITY.

“That explains absolutely nothing.”

No response this time.

Damian walked back into the room carrying a mug of coffee. “Who are you talking to?”

Evelyn looked up sharply.

His expression had shifted fully into concern now. Not loving concern. The cautious kind people used around someone behaving irrationally.

Her stomach twisted. Good. Let him underestimate her.

Damian leaned against the doorway carefully. “Do you want me to make you a doctor's appointment?”

A memory slammed into her without warning.

Damian says: We don’t have enough fuel to come back for you.

Evelyn looked at the coffee in his hand.

Steam curled softly into the air. Warm.Safe.Normal.

In three months, people will kill each other over stale bottled water.

“You should go to work,” she said quietly.

Damian blinked. “What?”

“You’ll be late.”

His brows pulled together. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

The irony nearly made her laugh again.

Instead, she looked away first. She suddenly couldn’t stand looking at him. Not while remembering the sound of the SUV locks clicking shut.

Damian hesitated before setting the mug down on the dresser. “Okay… I’ll stay home for a few hours.”

“No.” This time, the answer came immediately. Firm. Sharp enough that he stared at her.

Evelyn softened her voice carefully a second later. “I’m okay. I just need sleep.”

He still looked uncertain. Good. Let him think she was overwhelmed. That was safer than the truth.

Finally, Damian sighed. “Fine. But call me if you start freaking out again.”

Freaking out.

Evelyn nodded once.

He stepped closer like he wanted to kiss her forehead out of habit.

She stepped back before he could touch her.

The movement was small.

Instinctive.

But Damian noticed.

His face changed slightly. Hurt, confused.

Evelyn felt nothing looking at it. That frightened her more than anything else had all morning.

Damian grabbed his keys slowly. “I’ll text you later.”

Then he left. The apartment door shut softly behind him. Silence flooded the room.

Evelyn stood motionless for several seconds afterward.

Then she moved fast. Laptop open. Bank account tabs. Maps. Hardware stores. Medical suppliers. Fuel locations. Her breathing steadied with every click.

Control. She needed control.

Outside the apartment window, people moved through another gray September morning, completely unaware that civilization was already dying beneath its feet.

The interface pulsed quietly in the corner of her vision.

CURRENT TASK STATUS:0/3 COMPLETE.

CURRENT SURVIVAL RATE:3.7%

Evelyn stared at the number. Then slowly reached for her keys.

“Let’s fix that.”