A heavy fog hung over the spires of Trinity College, obscuring the famed architecture in a gray shroud. The outlines of the medieval buildings could just be glimpsed past coils of razor wire stacked six feet high along the barricaded college gates. A porter stood guard, bowler hat incongruous with the submachine gun clutched in his gloved hands.
The quiet was broken by the rumble of an approaching truck. The porter gestured curtly, and two more emerged wearing the formal uniforms of old, now toting weapons instead of letters for students long gone. With a grind of metal, the gates opened just enough for the food delivery, then clanged shut again.
The porters exchanged words with the driver as packages were offloaded. Their breaths frosted in the chill air, fading into the mist along with scattered voices from the world outside the college walls. But within those walls, traditions persevered – the shuffle of academics in their gowns hurrying to High Table, silver candlesticks lining the medieval hall, portraits of erudite benefactors gazing over an isolated outpost where rituals of civility carried on as both refuge and resistance against the lawless ruins beyond.
The porters stood ready to defend it, their antique dignity overlaid now with a siege mentality. The ancient institution was an ark, and they the watchmen guarding against the flood. Come what may, they would perform their duty until the end. The weighted gates closed. The fog wrapped Trinity in its veil once more.
The porter watched the truck rumble back into the mist-shrouded streets, then turned to his fellow watchmen. “Perkins, Jamison, with me. We’ll distribute the rations.” They set off across the foggy courtyard, footsteps echoing on the worn cobblestones.
Inside the dining hall, professors and students looked up from their meager meals as the porters entered with the food parcels. The usual murmur of scholarly debates had long since given way to tense silence. Dr. Henshaw, the aging don, rose to meet them.
“Porter Daniels. I trust the delivery arrived intact?”
“Yes sir, but supplies are getting leaner each week. I fear we’ll have to start rationing soon.” Daniels handed over the packets, noticing how the don’s hands shook slightly as he took them.
Henshaw nodded grimly. “We’ll make do as we must. In the meantime, the Council has an urgent matter to discuss with you after dinner.”
“Sir?” Daniels raised an eyebrow, but Henshaw merely waved him off.
As the porters distributed the food, Daniels caught snatches of hushed conversations – rumors of strange lights in the ruins, talk of dwindling medical stock, speculation about who the Council would select for the dangerous supply runs. He suppressed a pang of unease.
The fog pressed against the leaded windows, and the hall’s shadows seemed to deepen despite the flickering candlelight. An unnatural chill seeped in, the first tendrils of a creeping dread.
The others filed out, leaving Daniels alone with the dean. Henshaw gestured to a worn map on the table, tracing spidery lines in faded ink.
“To put it bluntly, this is a mission from which you may not return. But it is vital if the college is to survive.” His voice was sorrowful but certain. “You leave at dawn. Go with God.” He placed a heavy iron key on the map.
Daniels reached for the key, a leaden sense of destiny descending on his shoulders, cold and inexorable as the fog enveloping the ancient stones of Trinity. Whatever the future held, his path was sealed.
As the first pale fingers of dawn pierced the fog, Daniels stood at the college gates, the iron key heavy in his pocket. He checked his weapon and reviewed the scrawled list of supplies one last time, committing the dean’s instructions to memory.
With a deep breath, he signaled to Perkins to open the gate. The rusted hinges groaned in protest as they swung outward, revealing the desolate streets. Daniels stepped across the threshold, feeling the weight of Trinity’s hopes and fears bearing down on him.
He moved cautiously through the eerie silence, senses heightened and nerves thrumming with adrenaline. The once-vibrant city was a hollow shell – shattered windows gaping like soulless eyes, abandoned cars rusting in the streets, the skeletal remains of a forgotten world.
As he turned a corner, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Daniels froze, heart pounding. From the shadows emerged a figure, clad in tattered remnants of a military uniform. The stranger’s eyes locked with his, desperation and suspicion warring in their depths.
Daniels raised his hands slowly, showing he meant no harm. “I’m from Trinity College. We’re looking for supplies, medicine. We have food to trade.”
The stranger hesitated, then lowered their weapon. “Trinity? I thought that place was just a legend.” The voice was raspy, as if unused to speech. “I’m Sergeant Hawkins. Or I was, before… all this.”
Daniels nodded, pieces falling into place. “The dean said we might find allies out here. People who could help us.”
Hawkins barked a bitter laugh. “Allies? In this world?” But something flickered in their eyes – a spark of hope, perhaps. “If you’re serious about trading, I might know a place. But it’s dangerous. And there’s something else out there, in the fog…”
Daniels’s grip tightened on his gun as Hawkins trailed off. He thought of the strange lights, the whispers of unnatural terrors stalking the ruins.
“Tell me everything. If we’re going to survive, we need to know what we’re up against.”
The two set off into the labyrinthine streets, the fate of Trinity College hanging in the balance. The fog swirled around them, hiding what horrors? Only one thing was certain – the quest was just beginning.
As Daniels and Hawkins made their way through the fog-shrouded streets, the sergeant suddenly veered off the main road. “This way,” Hawkins motioned, leading them towards a looming structure that gradually took shape out of the mist.
The faded sign above the entrance read “Cambridge Lido,” the letters peeling and worn. The once-grand swimming pool complex had clearly seen better days, but Hawkins seemed to know exactly where they were going.
“The Lido?” Daniels asked, puzzled. “What are we doing here?”
Hawkins didn’t answer, instead picking their way through the debris-strewn lobby and down a dimly lit corridor. They stopped at a heavy metal door, rusted padlocks holding it firmly shut.
“Help me with these,” Hawkins grunted, tugging at the locks. Together, they managed to break through, the door swinging open with a screech of hinges.
Inside was a cavernous room, the pool long since drained. But what caught Daniels’ attention was the makeshift camp set up on the tiled floor. Tents and sleeping bags were arranged in a rough circle, and in the center, a group of people huddled around a flickering fire.
They looked up warily as Daniels and Hawkins approached, hands tightening on an assortment of weapons. “Sarge?” one of them called out, uncertainty in his voice.
Hawkins stepped forward, hands held high. “At ease. This is Daniels, from Trinity College. They’re looking to trade.”
A murmur ran through the group, and a woman with a tattered lab coat stood up. “Trinity College? I thought that was just a myth.” She eyed Daniels appraisingly. “I’m Dr. Shen. We’re what’s left of Addenbrooke’s Hospital.”
Daniels felt a surge of hope. Medical professionals, survivors – exactly what the college needed. “We have food, supplies. And we’re looking for medicine, equipment. Perhaps we could help each other.”
Dr. Shen exchanged glances with the others, then nodded slowly. “We might be able to work something out. But first, there’s something you need to see.” She gestured towards a door on the far side of the pool. “We’ve been monitoring them, trying to understand… but we’re running out of time.”
Daniels felt a chill run down his spine. “Them?”
Shen’s face was grim. “The ones in the fog. The ones who used to be human… but aren’t anymore.”
She led the way to the door, Hawkins and the other survivors falling in behind. Daniels followed, a sense of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. What secrets did the Cambridge Lido hold? And what did they mean for the future of Trinity College – and the fate of the city itself?
As Dr. Shen led the group through the door, Daniels steeled himself for what horrors might await. The room beyond was dimly lit, the air thick with a pungent, chemical smell. In the center stood a row of large, glass tanks, each one filled with a murky liquid. And floating within…
Daniels recoiled in shock. The shapes were vaguely humanoid but grotesquely distorted, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, skin a sickly, translucent hue. “What… what are they?” he managed to choke out.
Dr. Shen’s face was etched with pain. “They were patients, once. Infected by a virus that swept through the city like wildfire. We tried everything, but… the virus mutated, changed them. Turned them into… this.”
Hawkins spoke up, voice gruff. “We’ve seen them out there, in the fog. They’re drawn to sound, light. They’ll swarm anything living. Tear them apart.”
Daniels’ mind raced. “Is there any cure? Any way to stop them?”
Shen shook her head. “We’ve been working on a vaccine, but without proper equipment, supplies… it’s been slow going.”
An idea began to form in Daniels’ mind. “At Trinity, we have labs, resources. If we could bring your team back, combine our efforts…”
Shen’s eyes widened. “You’d be willing to help us? Even knowing the risks?”
Daniels nodded firmly. “We’re all in this together. If there’s a chance to stop this, to save what’s left of the city… we have to try.”
The group spent the next few hours hashing out a plan, pooling their knowledge of the city’s treacherous landscape. They would leave at first light, moving swiftly and silently to avoid attracting the creatures.
As dawn approached, Daniels and Hawkins led the way out of the Lido, Dr. Shen and her team following close behind. The fog swirled thick around them, an oppressive shroud hiding untold dangers.
They picked their way carefully through the ruins, every nerve strung tight with tension. Hawkins froze suddenly, a hand held up in warning. Daniels strained his ears, and then he heard it – a low, guttural moan that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
A shape loomed out of the mist, then another and another – twisted, shambling forms with gaping mouths and dead, milky eyes. The creatures had found them.
Gunfire erupted as Hawkins and the other survivors opened fire, the noise echoing off the crumbling buildings. Daniels herded Shen and her team into a nearby alcove, desperately trying to shield them.
But there were too many, the horde pressing closer with every passing second. Daniels felt a surge of despair. They had come so close, only to be overwhelmed at the last moment.
And then, through the fog, came a sound Daniels had never thought he’d be glad to hear – the deep, resonant toll of a bell. The creatures hesitated, swaying in place as if confused.
Daniels looked up and his heart leapt. There, at the end of the street, stood the gates of Trinity College, flung wide open. And lined up in front of them, armed to the teeth, were the porters and students, Dr. Henshaw at their head.
“Come on!” Hawkins yelled, grabbing Daniels’ arm. They ran, half-dragging Shen and the others, as the college defenders laid down a withering hail of cover fire.
They stumbled through the gates, gasping for breath, as the heavy doors slammed shut behind them. For a moment, there was silence. Then Dr. Henshaw stepped forward, his face a mix of relief and grim determination.
“Dr. Shen, I presume?” he said. “We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Trinity College.”
In the days that followed, a newfound sense of purpose filled the college. Dr. Shen and her team worked tirelessly in the labs, side by side with Trinity’s own scientists. Slowly but surely, progress was made on the vaccine.
Daniels and Hawkins, meanwhile, led scouting parties back out into the city, gathering supplies and survivors where they could. Each expedition was fraught with danger, but each successful return bolstered the college’s resolve.
And then, a breakthrough. Dr. Shen burst into the dining hall one evening, her face alight with hope. “We’ve done it,” she announced, holding up a vial of clear liquid. “The vaccine – it works.”
The room erupted into cheers and applause, the first real moment of joy any of them had felt in months. But Dr. Henshaw held up a hand for quiet.
“This is a momentous day,” he said. “But our work is far from over. We must distribute the vaccine, rebuild what has been lost. It will take time, and toil, and no small measure of risk. But looking around at all of you, I have no doubt that we will prevail.”
He raised his glass in a toast, and one by one, the others followed suit. “To Trinity,” Dr. Henshaw declared. “And to the future.”
As the fog lifted over the city, a new dawn was breaking. And for the first time in a long while, Daniels allowed himself to feel a flicker of hope. The road ahead would not be easy, but with the brilliant minds and brave souls of Trinity College at his side, he knew they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.
They had weathered the storm. Now it was time to rebuild, to restore light to a world too long shrouded in darkness. It was time for Cambridge, and humanity itself, to rise again.
Mark Carrigan 