The first Overcooked staggered out from between the trees like the first drops of rain. One. One more. Another. A few at once.

Then downpour.

The space between the trees darkened with bodies, a wall of movement like an anthill. My heart knocked around inside my rib cage, and each freezing breath battered my lungs and shredded my throat. Though mines surrounded me, I yanked at the ropes binding my wrists.

Too many. There were too many. How many mines were in this field? Surely not enough. And where the fuck was Recluse? Had he already left?

I scanned the side of the field where I had last seen him. For a moment, I thought I caught sight of him — standing dead still in the middle of the swarm of Overcooked. I blinked, and he disappeared.

The first Overcooked reached the swamp.

And the symphony began.

The bodies splintered apart a split-second before each boom, detached hands flapping overhead and torsos squirming in a final dance. A split-second after the mines detonated, the heads exploded, a crackling afterthought like the sizzle following the crash of a cymbal. The first few Overcooked combusted at the edge of the field. The next came closer.

And closer.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Boom, boom, boom. I jerked against the ropes binding me to the pole, succeeding only in tightening the bonds. As blood trickled down my wrists, I squeezed my eyes shut and transported away.

Father towered above me, face twisted in a frown. From my eight-year-old perspective, he looked enormous. Unstoppable. And he held a weapon that terrified me even more than his usual devices. A single needle, hovering near the colorful balloons.

She’s not coming, Zafaru.

Tears clogged my throat, blurring my response. She’ll come, I know it! I wrote a nice invitation. This will be her best birthday...

With a needle, my father popped each of the balloons. Boom, boom...

No, stop. She’ll come, and she’ll love them. Please, stop.

Bam, bam, bam. Balloons all gone.

No! You ruined it, Dad. Now she’ll never come home.

He flashed me a smile that twitched with barely-restrained resentment, more terrifying than any glare. She didn’t leave because of me, Zafaru. She left because of you.

A boom even closer than the others ricocheted in my ear canals, and my eyes shot open. All around me, hissing humans reduced to beasts careened side to side as they pushed inward, sunken eyes fastened to me and mouths chomping at empty air in anticipation. Mines exploded in a bright flash of shimmering snow, tearing the Infected into pieces again and again.

Until one got through.

I watched the once-a-man tear toward me, hips snapping left and right and shoulders lurching forward with each step. His mouth yawned wide with each hollow, although my abused ears no longer registered the sound. Ether, I didn’t want to go this way, strung up like meat to be devoured… with Recluse speeding away on his motorcycle laughing.

The approaching Infected reeled sideways before I could process the bang. As the body tumbled down in disjointed movements, a bullet pierced another approaching Infected. I cast a glance at the side of the pit and saw Recluse, rifle raised in both hands. Why did the Infected not chase him? But at that moment, the relief flooding my chest overrode all ability to consider further.

He had stayed. He wasn’t going to let me die.

Moments later, it was over. The body-strewn field lay silent, apart from the screeching ring in my ears. I flexed my wrists, encouraged by the ease of movement. I could still climb… if it weren’t for the gunshot wound in my calf.

And the ropes trapping me in the middle of a minefield.

Recluse picked his way toward me and drew out his machete. A second later, the rope binding me snapped, and I stumbled forward into a solid body. So fucking solid. Might as well have tumbled into a wall but for the hands that hooked under my armpits and steadied me. 

“Whoa, easy. We’re still surrounded by mines.”

It was embarrassing — I knew it was embarrassing — but relief drowned out the tingle of humiliation as my face pressed into his chest and my arms draped over his neck. “Thank you, thank you…”

“Fuck, don’t thank me. Never thank anyone. Just makes you weak.”

“You came back for me.” My lips formed the words without any direction from my brain. “I thought you would leave me here.”

“I told you you’d be fine, didn’t I?” Recluse peeled my arms from his neck and then grabbed me when I tottered to the side. “Hey, it’s over now. Relax, Southie.” Then he slung me over his shoulder once more. 

Upside-down, the blood-splattered snow and misplaced limbs formed some kind of abstract painting, both disturbing and breathtaking. When we reached the edge of the swamp, Recluse gripped my hips with both hands and lowered me down to rest against a tree. I leaned back and pressed my palms against the tree truck behind me, releasing a sigh. I wasn’t sure I could move, but at least I could stand. And when Recluse left me, at least he wouldn’t be laughing. Nothing to laugh about here. I was so fucking strong.

Recluse backtracked two steps and propped gloved fists on his hips, eyeing me. “You good, Southie?”

“I’m great,” I said with what I hoped was a smile. “Just fabulous.”

“Hmm.” He scanned me once more and turned away. 

I sagged back against the tree with a breath of mingled relief and disappointment. When he reached the motorcycle, he stopped and dug a hand in his pocket. Turning back toward me, he brandished a familiar weapon — my switchblade.

“Hey, I think this is yours. Do you want it?”

I forced a shaky laugh and nodded. “Oh yeah, just toss it over here.”

He stood motionless, his gaze a physical weight. “I’d rather you come get it.”

I recognized the question in his voice — the challenge. This was a test. I had excelled on tests in school, but this test felt more like the kind my father had given. The kind that only ever ended with humiliation. 

I straightened and eyed the space between us. Ten steps? I could do this.

“Yeah, no problem.” Two steps. “I’ll just...” Four steps. “Go get...” 

My right foot hit an uneven piece of ground, and my leg crumpled beneath me. I landed face-first in the snow. 

After a second of silent cursing, I pushed down to flip onto my back. Snowflakes drifted down from the dark sky above, twinkling in the moonlight. It was beautiful, actually — like the sky weeped Ether and brushed butterfly kisses over my face. Tears pricked my eyes, and my usual mantra faded away before completion.

Shit, I’m… na, it’s ok. I’ll just die here now. 

A tense growl broke the serenity. “Southie.”

“On second thought,” I said, “Why don’t you leave it… there, and I’ll get it… later?”

I waited for a derisive laugh or the crunch of retreating footsteps. Instead, silence. Then Recluse released a loud sigh and a begrudging murmur. 

“Ah, fuck.” 

His footsteps approached, and he sank into a crouch at my side. When he reached for me, I flinched away. 

“St-stop. Wh-what are you doing?”

His right arm slipped under my back, and his left hooked under my legs. In one quick motion, he scooped me off the ground.

“Two weeks, Southie. You can stay with me for two weeks, and then you’re not my problem anymore.”

I attempted another protest, but Ether, the solid arms wrapping me erased all complaints. The part of me saying don’t you fucking pity me drowned in primal instinct.

Yes, please keep me safe. Please keep me.

Then my vision and mind both blurred, absorbing details in snatches. Strong hands grasping my hips, settling me onto a seat. A solid back blocking the view in front of me. The tires spinning in the snow before pitching forward. The earthy, coppery taste of leather coat in front of me. The spinning monochrome of white snow and black trees against the gray sky.

I slumped, cheek smearing down against the leather. Through the coat, I felt his muscles tighten. 

“Hey, you alright back there?”

“Yep,” I murmured into the leather. “Just great.”

Recluse snaked one hand back and nabbed my own. I watched his gloved fingers press my bare skin but felt a curious lack of accompanying sensation.

“You’re fucking freezing, Southie.”

“Huh. Don’t feel cold.”

“That’s… not good.”

Recluse pulled my hand forward and shoved it into his pocket. Then he switched hands to stuff my other hand into his second pocket. The soft warmth I had relished earlier now set my hands aflame.

“Hurts,” I whimpered.

“That’s good. Pain is good.”

My numb lips fumbled my reply. “F-fucking sadist.”

Recluse just chuckled.

The hum of the engine and tires crunching snow over the fading ringing in my ears lulled me into a blissful half-consciousness. I watched moonlight and stars blink in and out between tree branches. Then a peaceful darkness. 

A hand clamped over my own through the pocket, a harsh invitation back to reality.

“Southie, stay awake. We’re almost there, hey? We’re almost there.”

I straightened just slightly and peeled my eyes open again. A minute later, we reached the front gate. Recluse fit a key in the lock, and the gate swung open. We re-entered the empty gray room and stopped.

The silence felt deafening — painful, even — and the sudden warmth brought my attention to the cold wet of the fabric clinging to me. Hands swept me off of the seat, and we passed through one doorway and another. Then the world tipped, and my ass hit a chair.

When the still-gloved hands tugged on the bottom of my sweatshirt, I snapped awake.

“The fuck are you — stop! The shirt stays on.”

“Hey, relax, I’m just —”

“No, no, no.” My elbow connected with solid flesh, drawing a satisfying grunt of pain. “The shirt stays on!”

“Fuck, relax! I’ll give you a blanket, alright? But your shirt is soaked, and you need to dry off to warm up.”

The wet fabric suctioned over my face, drowning out my next round of protest. Then the protective layer disappeared. I slapped my arms over my bare chest.

But Recluse’s sharp inhale meant I was too late.

“What the… what sick fucker did you steal from to get those?”

My gaze lifted just high enough to glimpse a blanket dangling forgotten in one of his hands, and I snatched it from him and wrapped it over my chest, covering all of the marks. 

“Hey,” his deep bass rumbled. “I asked you a question.”

I shook my head, eyes searing the rug beneath Recluse’s unmoving feet. Any second now, it would burst into flames.

“Zafaru, look at me.” 

His voice hooked into my gut. Against my will, my head jerked up to stare at him. The brown eyes pierced me, and his lips formed a tight, bloodless line. 

“You remembered my name,” I whispered.

His head tilted a quarter-inch in impatient dismissal before he spoke again. “Cigar burns, right? Tell me who did that to you. Was it someone around here? Are they still alive?”

“Uh, no, these were, uh... before the apocalypse. From… from my father.”

He blinked and jerked back one step as though slapped, and his words choked. “And you said I remind you of him?” 

I shrugged one shoulder. “Am I wrong?” 

For ten seconds, Recluse didn’t speak or move, a perfect statue apart from the irregular tick of his jaw. Then he spun on his heel and left the room.