Teresa Taylor was on the run.

The mutated frog pursued her relentlessly, driven by a vengeance that knew no bounds. The deaths of so many of its offspring demanded retribution. Of course, the frog couldn't relent.

Teresa cursed her luck, forced to dart into the nearest building, hoping to lose her massive pursuer.

Crash!

The frog's colossal body crashed through the glass doors of the lobby, unfazed by the debris. Its amphibious eyes locked onto Teresa with predatory intent.

A cold sweat trickled down her spine. Despite the fierce fight she'd put up earlier, her energy was nearly depleted, and she was struggling to keep going. Meanwhile, the frog showed no sign of fatigue.

She needed to escape, find refuge, or she would surely die here. But the purple mist and the dim lighting obscured her sense of direction.

Just then, a beam of light cut through the gloom. A familiar voice shouted from the mist, "Over here! This way! Officer Taylor, this way!"

It was Adam Pg!

Relief washed over Teresa. Adam was one of the first survivors she'd saved and one of the few genuinely helpful people left. He always stepped up when others wouldn't.

Teresa bolted toward him, fueled by newfound hope. She soon spotted Adam's figure, head poking out from behind the stairwell wall, urging her on.

"Hurry, this way!" Adam called, waving her over with urgency.

Teresa dashed into the stairwell, finally able to breathe a little easier.

Adam chuckled, "Don't worry, the hallway's too narrow for that big frog to fit—"

Crash!

Before he could finish, the frog's tongue smashed through the stairwell's fire door, sending splinters and metal shards flying.

Splat!

A door handle, dislodged by the force, lodged itself into Adam's abdomen, a crimson stain rapidly spreading across his shirt.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "How...how could I be so unlucky..."

As he crumpled to the floor, Teresa's heart skipped a beat. Ignoring her own exhaustion, she gritted her teeth, hoisting Adam onto her back to carry him upstairs.

"Someone help! Adam Pg is hurt!" she shouted as she ascended.

The frog couldn't follow them into the narrow stairwell, leaving it bellowing furiously behind them.

At the landing between the first and second floors, Mike Brown appeared, hurrying awkwardly down the stairs to assist. But he was too old, too weak to be of much help.

"Where is everyone else?" Teresa snapped, frustration bleeding into her voice.

Mike shrugged helplessly. "I...I don't know..."

Teresa scowled, continuing to lug Adam up to the second floor.

When they reached the dim corridor, they found other survivors sprawled around, doing nothing. All twenty or thirty of them sat idle, none had even tried to help.

Fuming, Teresa gently set Adam down and stood, fixing the group with a steely gaze.

Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she spoke. "Why didn't any of you come down to help? The injured, fine, but the rest of you? What's your excuse?"

Avoiding her eyes, they shuffled awkwardly. One man, in his fifties, mumbled, "We aren't ability users. How could we fight a frog?"

Once he broke the silence, others echoed similar sentiments.

"Yeah, Officer Taylor, it's not that we didn't want to. We just couldn't!"

"We'd be seriously hurt if that thing touched us!"

Teresa fumed. "That frog's too big to fit in here. You had nothing to fear!"

The crowd fell silent.

Madison Donald, a newer addition to the group, scoffed. "Then why is Adam the way he is?"

Teresa had no answer to that, left momentarily speechless.

Then a woman in her forties snapped, "Officer Taylor, isn't this why we pay taxes? To be protected by you? Isn't it your job to keep us safe?"

"Exactly! We followed you because we trusted you, and look how many of us are left!"

"Yeah, what about my husband? He's hurt too. Why aren't you worried about him, instead of just Adam?" the woman continued relentlessly.

The complaints continued, demands for food and safety growing louder and more brazen.

Despite the dark look on Teresa's face, none of them seemed intimidated. They trusted she wouldn't retaliate.

Teresa's fists clenched tight, her knuckles white.

A part of her felt wounded. It's not like I forced you here. You chose this path!

Another part seethed with anger. Why should I be the one to save you over and over again?

Part of her wanted to abandon them to their fate. But her conscience wouldn't allow such an abdication of duty.

Adam's moans dragged her back to urgency.

"Dr. Du, please take a look at him," Teresa implored.

A gaunt woman stepped forward, inspecting Adam's wound before sighing. "He's lucky, Officer Taylor. The injury missed his organs. If we can stitch him up, he might be saved. But..."

A tense silence fell.

With resources beyond scarce, where would they find medicine?

Most had no more than basic cold and flu pills; nothing for severe injuries. And even if he were stitched up, could Adam survive the inevitable infection?

Teresa bit her lip, staying silent.

Adam sighed wistfully. "It's over for me, Officer Taylor. Don't waste your resources. If you reach the TV station's aid point and see my son and grandson, don't tell them about this. It's fate..."

"Don't say that!" Teresa's nails bit into her palms as she forced a steady voice. "Adam, you'll be fine. I'll find some medicine. I promise."

Her thoughts turned to the ability user rumored to move through the earth.

"If he can move underground, he's bound to have collected supplies safely. As long as he's not reckless, he should have medicine."

"Digging is slow work, and carrying items is tricky. He probably doesn't have much medicine but focuses on food and water."

"But with injuries this common, he should have some stock. If I find him, Adam still has a chance!"

As for whether that person would be willing to part with his supplies?

Teresa hadn't considered the possibility of refusal.

Refuse? Then I'll make him give it up!

When it came to dealing with a criminal who'd stolen guns, Teresa had no intention of being lenient.

As she pondered her next steps, the sound of clattering footsteps filled the stairwell.

Seven or eight men descended from the third floor.

A man wearing a crooked security cap swung a baton, shouting angrily, "What the hell is going on here? Who the hell let you in? Don't you know this is T-bag's territory?"

The others behind him echoed his aggressive insults.

"Are you blind? Didn't see T-bag getting here?"

"Who's in charge here? Speak up!"

The crowd of survivors shifted nervously, all eyes turning to Teresa.

The thin man in charge, spotting her, leered, reaching out to stroke her chin. "Well, what do we have here? A lady cop, huh? You—"

Smack!

Teresa slapped his hand away, her voice icy. "I warn you. Speak to me with respect."

Surprisingly, the thin man didn't get angry. Instead, he laughed obnoxiously. "A feisty one! I love it. Feistier, the better—ah!"

Teresa's patience snapped. She kicked him squarely in the stomach, sending him crashing to the floor with a groan.

Regaining his breath, his eyes burned with rage. "You bitch! Grab her! Kill the rest!"

His followers brandished their knives, grinning menacingly.

Teresa's eyes narrowed, her voice low and threatening. "This is your last warning. Stand down, or face the consequences."

They laughed it off.

"Still acting tough, huh?"

"Consequences? Let's see you scream for daddy!"

They lunged with their knives and machetes, expecting an easy victory.

Caught in their bravado, they missed the expressions of the other survivors, who watched them with strange smiles and pity.

They didn't realize—messing with this police officer was a mistake they wouldn't live to regret.