Chapter XIX: Nothing Left To Fear

The first infected frightened Boron because they were unpredictable. They stumbled through the streets, attacked without warning, and turned familiar faces into something unrecognizable. Then came the mutations.

The people of Boron had learned that The Stranger's virus didn't affect everyone the same way. Patient Zero had been only the beginning. Some victims changed quickly, while others deteriorated slowly. A rare few became something far more dangerous than anything Runecorp's models had predicted.

The man who would become The Alpha had entered the carnival as an ordinary patron.

Nobody remembered his name. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him that afternoon. He ate along the midway, played several games, watched a performance beneath the Big Top, and spent part of the evening drinking with strangers near the food stalls. He was simply another face among thousands enjoying Boron's favorite autumn tradition.

He had also eaten one of The Stranger's treats.

When the first screams erupted, he ran with everyone else. He made it beyond the carnival gates and reached the town before the sickness finally brought him down. For hours, he disappeared into the chaos.

When he returned, people noticed him.

The virus had changed him differently. His body seemed to respond to the infection by becoming stronger. Muscle tightened across his frame. Pain that would have stopped another person barely slowed him. Fear, reason, restraint—whatever had once told him when to stop—seemed to disappear completely.

Runecorp's surveillance cameras recorded his first appearance shortly after midnight.

A barricade blocked one of Boron's western streets. Survivors had spent hours constructing it from wagons, lumber, barrels, and anything else heavy enough to keep the infected away.

The Alpha didn't climb it.

He grabbed it.

The first pull moved the entire structure. The second tore part of it loose. The third opened the street.

Runecorp replayed the footage several times. Nobody in the observation room spoke until one analyst finally entered a new classification into the system:

ALPHA MUTATION.

The name spread almost as quickly as the infection.

By morning, survivors throughout Boron had heard stories about something moving through the western district. Some claimed he had thrown a wagon through a storefront. Others said they watched him tear heavy doors from their hinges. One group attempting to reach a Runecorp checkpoint reported seeing him tear through anything that stood between him and wherever he had decided to go.

Nobody knew where that was.

That uncertainty made him worse.

The Balloon Man seemed to hunt. The Last Laugh destroyed whatever attracted its attention. The Alpha appeared to have no purpose at all. He simply moved, and whatever stood in his path usually didn't remain there for long.

The old rules of survival stopped applying.

Doors weren't enough. Barricades weren't enough. Hiding upstairs wasn't enough when something could tear through the staircase beneath you.

People began listening for him instead.

His footsteps were heavy enough to announce his approach. Sometimes survivors heard wood splintering several streets away. Other times it was the crash of something being thrown aside. Then everything would become quiet.

That silence was when people became most afraid.

Runecorp watched every encounter it could capture, and the readings disturbed them. The Stranger's unauthorized experiment was producing variations faster than their researchers could classify them.

The infection wasn't merely spreading from host to host.

It was adapting.

Perhaps selecting.

Perhaps improving.

That possibility changed the atmosphere inside the laboratory. For years, Runecorp had studied specimens behind reinforced glass. They believed every anomaly could eventually be measured, categorized, and contained.

Boron was teaching them otherwise.

The Alpha reached the old market district shortly before sunset.

Survivors there had spent the day reinforcing the buildings after hearing what had happened elsewhere. Furniture blocked doors. Lumber covered windows. Heavy chains secured the entrances.

Someone spotted him approaching through the autumn fog.

One man walking directly down the middle of the street.

Nobody fired a warning. Nobody shouted. Everyone simply backed away from the doors.

The Alpha reached the first barricade and stopped.

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then the wood cracked.

The people inside heard the first impact, followed by another. On the third, one of the braces broke and dust fell from the ceiling.

Someone whispered that they needed to run.

There was only one problem.

The rear exit led toward the carnival. The front led toward The Alpha. The northern road led toward Runecorp's failing containment zone.

Every direction Boron once offered had become another gamble with death.

Another impact shook the building.

The chains strained.

The Alpha roared from the other side.

There was no laughter in it. No performance. No personality anyone could recognize.

Only rage.

The door began folding inward as people scattered toward the rear of the building. Outside, the last sunlight disappeared behind the mountains. Runecorp's containment lights flickered across the horizon while the carnival stood silent in the distance.

The survivors finally understood what made The Alpha different from everything else The Stranger had created.

The Undead could be avoided. The Balloon Man could be hidden from. Even The Last Laugh could be heard coming.

The Alpha didn't need tricks.

He didn't need weapons.

He didn't need an audience.

He only needed to decide that something was standing in his way.

The final brace snapped.

The door exploded inward.

And for everyone still alive inside Boron, survival had just become considerably more difficult.