“Don’t answer your phones! Do you hear me? Listen! Do not pick up the…”
Maria Marquez

It’s morning in America, and the broadcast is already lying. President Perrin’s hosting a White House picnic for the kids, the Los Angeles Marathon is set to kick off this weekend, and Maria Marquez is live from Hollywood with a special report – until the feed cuts mid-scream. “Don’t answer your phones,” she warns, swallowed by static.

10:07 A.M. becomes the fracture point.

Zone and his partner stare down a pregnancy test – “we made a plus” – just as the phone rings. She jokes it’s a telemarketer. He starts planning a future. She picks up. The world rewrites itself.

Across town, Griff is charming secretaries and pitching futures.

Phones ring. Glass shatters. A fire extinguisher becomes a weapon. The office turns feral. The secretary who flirted with Griff goes full Butcher, crashes through the window, and lands hard.

On the sidewalk below, Mag’s trying to explain her new relationship – Helen, not European, not a guy – to two friends who don’t get it. Their phones ring in sync. One gets wiped, the other turns Butcher and stabs her. Mag watches her world collapse in real time. Then the secretary’s body drops from above, extinguisher first, killing the Butcher. Mag is left standing in the wreckage, stunned.

Elsewhere, Trevor and Uncle Wendall are talking basketball, astronauts, and the coolness of being smart.

Wendall’s proud – Trevor’s good with tools, especially computers.

“Embrace the new,” Wendall says, answering the phone.

Then he’s gone. Blank-eyed. Rewritten.

“My name is Ivy,” he tells Trevor. “Something terrible has happened.”

Two weeks later.

Griff wakes Mag. It’s quiet outside – too quiet. He’s packed a bag, scavenged clothes, and thinks it’s time to move. Mag’s worried about Mr. Jacobson. He’s old, slow. Griff says they’ll have to risk it. “When we get outside,” he warns, “don’t shut it out. No matter what you see.”

The neighbourhood’s trashed. Cars still burning. Storefronts gutted. Smoke hangs thick, chemical and wrong. Jacobson mutters that they’re all going to die. Griff crouches beside Mag. “How bad is it?” he asks.

She looks. People everywhere – screaming, dragging others from cars, blood in the gutters. She sinks back down. It’s too much.

Gunfire cracks the silence. Jacobson panics, runs toward a firefighter. The man turns, blank-eyed, and snaps Jacobson’s neck like it’s nothing. A car barrels toward them, shots still ringing. Griff and Mag brace for death.

Instead, the driver steps out and asks their names.

Griff stammers. “Todd. Todd Griffin.”

“My name’s Maggie. Don’t kill us.”

The man smiles. “We have a winner.” He’s Zone. He tells them to get in.

On the road, Zone explains: the pulse rewrote people. Anyone exposed is now a monster. No empathy, no soul. Three groups remain – the monsters, the untouched, and the ones who ask, “Did I fall asleep?” Most of those ended up dead.

They trade survival stories. Mag was locked in a freezer. Griff let her out, trying to stash Butchers. Zone says his story’s worse. Then the car crashes.

Trevor stumbles out, dragging his uncle Wendell from the wreck. Zone asks if Wendell’s okay. Wendell replies, “My name is Ivy.”

Ivy stands. She’s imprinted herself onto Wendell to deliver vital intel. But Zone doesn’t trust it. He shoots Wendell point blank.

Trevor breaks. Wendell was all he had. Mag’s furious. Trevor runs, calling them monsters. Griff starts after him, but Mag stops him. “We are the monsters,” she says, staring at the carnage.

Trevor reaches the stadium. Ivy’s instructions led him here.

A voice in the shadows asks if he’s Ivy. Trevor explains Wendell died trying to get here. The voice apologises. They’re building an army – or something like it.

A hand extends.

A USB drive marked United States Air Force: Helicopter.

“You want to be my first soldier?” the voice asks.

Trevor nods, smiling. The man steps into the light. “Name’s Alpha,” he says. “You want to learn how to fly?”