Ultraviolet

The radio crackled. A voice came through:

“This is General Kiyora. The infected are attacking — we need immediate support. They’re swarming us. We’re being overrun.”

Leland turned pale. “Damn it. It’s started. I thought we had a few more time.”

Emily stepped forward. “We need to do something. Now.”

Keller glanced at Leland, then walked up and whispered something in his ear.

Leland’s brows drew together. “What? No. That’s not ready.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Ahem. Is there something you wish to share with the rest of the class?”

Leland adjusted his glasses, clearly reluctant. “Doctor Keller was… reminding me of a prototype we’ve been developing. For crowd control.”

Emily crossed her arms. “Well? Use the fucking thing and kill those bastards. What are we waiting for?”

Leland sighed, tapping on his tablet. A schematic appeared on the screen — a sleek, cannon-like weapon connected to a satellite grid.

“It’s ultraviolet-based,” he explained. “We noticed early-stage infected were less active during daylight. So, we simulated high-intensity UV beams — tried to replicate direct sunlight. It slowed them down, made them sluggish. But…”

He hesitated, his eyes tightening behind the lenses.

“That was before they changed into… whatever they are now. This model’s untested… you don’t understand, if it malfunctions it could burn everything… including us.”

Emily stepped closer, eyes fierce. “Victor’s out there. So are your soldiers. You said it yourself — this is a war we’re not equipped for. Time to equip us.”

Leland met her eyes for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly.

“We can’t deploy the full dispersal unit yet, but I can reroute the signal to one of our low-orbit satellites. Short range, maybe a few blocks — but it’ll cover the field.”

He keyed in a command.

Inside the command center, the floor trembled. Mechanical gears groaned as the ceiling above them split open like a blooming steel flower. Outside, on the rooftop of the base, vents hissed open and revealed the mounted UV cannon — a sleek barrel that began to rise into position like the opening eye of a god.

Servo motors clicked in sequence. Blue-white coils along the cannon glowed to life.

“All right,” Leland said. “The weapon is on standby.”

He looked to Keller.

“Tell General Kiyora and his men to lure the infected into the open — toward the front of the building. We’ll fire once they’re in position.”

Keller relayed the plan through the comms, voice steady despite the madness outside. Over the radio, Kiyora responded:

“Understood. Moving them into the corridor now. Hold fire until my mark.”

There was a pause. Then—

“Hold!... I see someone. It’s Doctor Salerno. He’s alive. Slumped near the wreckage by the northern wall. What are your orders?”

Emily’s heart seized. “Oh My God, Victor!”

She shoved Keller aside and grabbed the radio.

“Bring him in! I want him safe now!”

Kiyora’s reply came, measured and unsure.

“That’s the thing. The infected… aren’t attacking him. they’re avoiding him like he’s not even there.”

Leland’s head snapped up at that.

“Repeat that,” he said.

“I said they’re ignoring him,” Kiyora confirmed. “They are clumped around him but haven’t touched him. It’s like they don’t even notice.”

Leland’s face went blank for a moment, processing.

“Forget retrieval for now,” he ordered. “Just bring the horde into the UV’s crosshairs. Do it now.”

Outside, chaos surged as Kiyora and his squad lured the infected forward — flare grenades popping, bullets firing low, herding the mass into the designated strike zone. The creatures howled, swarming after the noise, moving like a living flood of sinew and hunger.

The cannon hummed.

A pulse of deep, vibrating power filled the air — then a wave of blinding artificial sunlight ignited the battlefield.

A crackling WHUMP echoed as ultraviolet firestorm burst across the open ground.

The infected shrieked.

Their skin boiled, eyes popped and bones snapped in on themselves like glass sculptures melting in reverse. Dozens collapsed, their flesh bubbling under the radiant burn. Some tried to run — staggering with charred limbs and melting features — but there was nowhere to go. One howled as its skull burst, spewing steaming fluid. Another tore its own skin off in a frenzy before collapsing into ash.

Some simply combusted, erupting into white-hot flame before crumbling to dust in the wind. General Kiyora and his squad surged forward behind the light, executing the stunned and writhing infected with brutal efficiency. Each step left a crunch of ash and charred viscera.

Victor lay against the wall, body limp. His skin was pale, his breaths ragged. The UV light danced around him but didn’t touch him — a strange void of calm in the center of carnage.

Around him, bodies curled and cracked. Infected disintegrated into piles of soot. And still… none of them touched him.

At the edge of the treeline beyond the perimeter, Zero watched as his hive got cornered. He didn’t blink and his eyes glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with something deeper. A shared feeling.

It was pain.

Not physical. Psychic.

Zero staggered backward, clutching his temple as a wave of psychic noise ripped through his mind — the death of dozens of infected, severed all at once from the hive.

No. Not like this. Not this many at once.

He breathed hard, his expression darkening as the screams of his dying kin echoed inside him like a collapsing cathedral. He reached out across the network, calling them.

Retreat. Fall back. Obey.

But the link was fuzzy now. His control — normally absolute — was unraveling. Some responded. Others ignored him. And a few — a terrifying few — responded with nothing.

Why didn’t they retreat? Why didn’t they follow orders?

Then he remembered one, the one that had broken ranks — the one that lunged at Victor while he was unconscious. It wasn’t dead, struggling to rebuild itself. Zero had felt it hesitate, as if waiting for his command…

But then it had attacked anyway.

Without his permission.

That shouldn’t be possible…

His gaze narrowed, hands curling into fists. For the first time since his awakening, a sliver of something colder than rage crept in.

Fear.

Was the hive fracturing?

He turned away, retreating into the shadows of the forest.

Back in the command center, Emily grabbed fresh magazines and loaded her rifle with practiced aggression.

Keller buckled his tactical harness, throwing a sidelong glance. “Didn’t know you were more than just a doctor.”

Emily checked the chamber, locking it in with a snap. “My father was a veteran who believed every lesson should be earned. From weapons, hand-to-hand to survival tactics — he made sure I could handle myself.”

Across the room, Cassie tossed a sidearm up in the air, catching it by the barrel. “Y’all sure he’s still breathin’? That place looked like hell dropped its guts all over it.”

“He’s alive,” Emily said flatly. Then snatched the gun from Cassie’s hand. “And you’re too young to be waving this around. Stick to comms.”

Leland kept his eyes on the screen. “You’ve got five, maybe six minutes before the UV grid fades. It won’t affect you directly — but if the infected get back up…”

“We’ll already be out,” Emily cut in. “Let’s move.”

Zero stopped beside a blackened stump, breathing deep. The forest around him pulsed faintly, alive with residual hive energy.

But something was wrong.

The hum of the link — his dominion — was distorted. Fractured.

He could still feel the majority of the hive — a vast ocean of minds — but some of them now moved like static on a radio.

Out of sync.

They’re changing… faster than expected. Some of them are moving away from my connection. I can’t feel them anymore.

He clenched his jaw, eyes glowing brighter.

Then he looked down at his hands — streaked with blood, one of them still burned from the UV burst.

Time is running out. For all of us.

He turned toward the west — toward the mountains, where he heard a signal call out to him from the depths of silence. It wasn’t like the voice from the infected, it was different. It’s a feeling he felt with Victor before.