CHAPTER 5

Another hour passed and then another. Every simulation failed and every sequence fell apart. The virus was always one step ahead, adapting faster than they could counteract it.

"Wait," Violet said suddenly, her fingers freezing over the keyboard. "What if the problem isn't the approach? What if it's the medium?"

Jude looked up, his eyes bloodshot and tired. "What do you mean?"

"The virus rewrites living cells, right? What if we need living cells to test properly? Not just simulations, but actual biological samples?"

"That would require access to the LZ-7 strain itself," Jude said slowly. "Which is locked in Sub-Level Three under Harrison's authorization."

Violet's jaw tightened at the mention of Harrison's name. "Then we find a way to get authorization."

"How? Harrison thinks you're insane. He's not going to give you access to his billion-dollar project."

"I'll figure something out." Violet said, even though she had no idea how. Her mind was too exhausted to think clearly, and her eyes felt like sandpaper.

Jude was quiet for a moment, studying her with that unreadable expression, then he glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:24 AM.

"We should call it a night." He said finally.

"No. We need to keep working."

"Violet, you're exhausted. I'm exhausted. We're not going to make any breakthroughs in this state."

"We don't have time to rest," Violet argued, even as her body betrayed her with a jaw-cracking yawn. "We only have three weeks—"

"Which means we need to be sharp," Jude interrupted firmly. "Get some sleep. We'll continue this later."

Violet wanted to argue, but she knew he was right.

"Fine," she said reluctantly, saving her work and shutting down the workstation. "But we start again first thing tomorrow morning."

"Agreed."

They gathered their things in silence and as they walked toward the exit, Violet glanced at Jude's profile. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense with exhaustion.

"Jude," She said quietly as they reached the parking garage.

He paused, turning to look at her. "What?"

"Thank you for believing me."

Something shone in his dark eyes, too quick for her to identify. "Don't thank me yet. We haven't solved anything."

"Still. You didn't have to help."

Jude was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Yes, I did."

Before Violet could ask what he meant, he was already walking toward his car, leaving her standing alone in the fluorescent lighting of the parking garage.

The house was dark when Violet finally made it home, her body aching with exhaustion and her mind still racing with genetic sequences and viral proteins.

She barely made it three steps inside before the lights flicked on.

Harrison stood in the living room, still dressed in his tailored suit despite the late hour. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his blue eyes were cold with barely contained anger.

"Where have you been?”

Violet's exhaustion made her reckless. She should have lied better, should have prepared something convincing, but her mind was too foggy to think straight.

"Working at the lab." She said flatly, meeting Harrison's cold blue eyes without flinching.

"Until three in the morning?" Harrison's voice was sharp with suspicion. He moved closer, and Violet caught the faint scent of expensive cologne and underlying anger. "The building closes at midnight."

"I have access to Lab Seven," Violet dropped her bag on the floor, too tired to care about his interrogation. "I was running simulations."

"Simulations for what?"

"Does it matter?" She rubbed her burning eyes. "You don't understand the science anyway."

Harrison's jaw tightened dangerously. "Watch your tone."

"Or what?" The words slipped out before she could stop them. "You'll have me committed? Lock me in a psychiatric ward like you threatened?"

"Don't test me, Violet."

"I'm not testing you. I'm exhausted." She moved past him toward the hallway, but his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"Listen to me very carefully," Harrison said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't know what game you're playing, but you better not do anything to jeopardize Project Lazarus. That project is worth billions, and I won't let your delusions ruin everything I've built."

Violet yanked her wrist free. "Are you done?"

"And don't you dare bring up divorce again," Harrison continued, his eyes flashing with barely contained fury. "You're my wife, Violet. You're not going anywhere."

He stormed past her without waiting for a response, his footsteps heavy against the hardwood floor. His bedroom door slammed shut, followed by the sharp click of the lock.

Violet stood alone in the hallway, her wrist aching where he had grabbed her. Once upon a time, that lock would have hurt. It would have reminded her that she wasn't wanted and wasn't loved.

Now it just made her feel nothing.

She was too tired to argue to do anything except stumble to her own bedroom and collapse onto the bed still fully clothed.

Sleep dragged her under within seconds.

The next few days blurred together in a haze.

Violet and Jude worked in secret, meeting in Lab Seven after hours when the rest of the institute had gone home.

They ran simulations, tested compounds, and explored every possible avenue for a reversal, but nothing worked.

"Try binding the mutation sites with a synthetic enzyme." Violet suggested on the third night, her eyes bloodshot from staring at screens for hours.

Jude pulled up the molecular structure.

"It'll just adapt around it. Look." He ran the simulation, and they watched the virus mutate within seconds, rendering the enzyme useless.

"Damn it." Violet slammed her hand against the desk.

"What about targeting the RNA replication process?" Jude suggested.

"I tried that already. Seventeen different variations. They all failed."

The lab felt suffocating. Every failed simulation was another nail in humanity's coffin, and Violet could feel the weight of it crushing her chest.

During the day, the whispers followed her everywhere. The other scientists avoided her like she carried a contagious disease.

Dr. Maxwell Carlin wouldn't meet her eyes. Stella Eden ate lunch at a different table. Dennis Peterson actually crossed the hallway to avoid passing her.

Alicia, of course, was loving every second of it. She smiled sweetly whenever their paths crossed, her blue eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction.

"Still seeing the future, Dr. Ackland?" She asked one afternoon in front of a group of junior researchers. "Or have the zombies stopped talking to you?"

The researchers laughed and Violet had walked away without responding.

By the end of the week, Violet's hope had dwindled to almost nothing. By the end of the second week, it was completely dashed.

"We're not going to find a reversal, are we?" Violet said quietly one night, staring at yet another failed simulation on her screen.

Jude was silent for a long moment, then he said, "No. I don't think we are."

The words hung heavy in the air between them.

"The outbreak is going to happen," Violet continued, her voice hollow. "We can't stop it."

There was only one thing to do now. Since she couldn't stop the apocalypse, she had to prepare for it.

Harrison was always out at meetings these days, preparing for his big investor presentation. He left early and came home late, which made it easy for Violet to begin.

She started with her closet. Designer dresses she had worn to exactly two events. Expensive heels that hurt her feet. Handbags with price tags that could feed a family for a month. All of it went online, listed at half price for quick sales.

The responses came flooding in within hours.

Next came the jewelry. Diamond earrings Harrison had given her for their first anniversary. A pearl necklace from their wedding.

A sapphire bracelet she had never worn. She sold them all to a luxury consignment shop downtown, walking out with a cashier's check that made her head spin.

She sold her stocks next. Every investment Harrison had insisted she make, cashed out and converted to liquid assets. The penalties were steep, but money wouldn't matter when the world ended.

Harrison's unused watch collection was next. Six luxury timepieces sitting in velvet-lined cases, never worn because he preferred the smart watch his assistant had programmed. She sold them to a collector for a sum that made her laugh bitterly.

He had kept those watches while giving her barely enough money for groceries.

The forgotten painting in the hallway went to an art dealer. A landscape some investor had gifted Harrison years ago, gathering dust behind a potted plant. The dealer paid her in cash, no questions asked.

Within ten days, Violet had gathered more money than she'd ever seen in her life, then she went shopping.

The bunker came first. She couldn't stay in the penthouse. If she did, she would get killed again.

She found the bunker listed on an obscure survivalist forum. S retired military officer selling his compound in the mountains outside Halden City. It was solid, remote, and available immediately.

Violet met him at a coffee shop, paid in cash, and walked away with the keys and coordinates.

Next came supplies. Water filtration systems. Non-perishable food. Medical kits. Batteries. Flashlights. Tools. Everything she could think of, purchased from different stores to avoid suspicion and delivered to a storage facility she had rented under a false name.

She worked systematically and methodically, her mind sharp with purpose. This was survival. This was the difference between dying on that balcony again and living to see another day.

But supplies wouldn't be enough. The bunker needed defenses and security systems. Something to keep the infected out and keep her alive.

Violet pulled up her laptop one evening in Lab Seven, researching high-tech defense systems, automated locks, reinforced doors, solar panels and motion sensors.

She was deep into a specs sheet for electromagnetic security doors when a shadow fell across her screen.

"What are you doing?"

Violet's heart jumped. She looked up to find Jude hovering over her shoulder, his dark eyes fixed on her laptop screen with sharp curiosity.