Luann sighed.

They never talked again, but would still bump into each other from time to time. Those fleeting moments of eye contact… Cain’s eyes were always cold, as if they had never dated.

Sometimes it pissed her off. Other times, it slightly intrigued her.

But even now, he still haunted her life, huh?

“No, Sir. I never saw nor heard any signs of his whereabouts.”

“Are you sure, Commander?”

“Yes, Sir-”

“Or are you covering for your lover?”

Luann froze.

“With all due respect, Sir, that is irrelevant to both my personal conduct and my promotion. My promotion was approved by my base captain, not Captain Cain. Even if it had anything to do with your inquiries, Sir, we have broken up and are no longer in contact.”

She could hear a slight chuckle on the other end.

Then-

“Thank you, Commander. Back to your duty.”

The fucking audacity! GAH! That really struck a nerve!

Promotion because of Cain?

Naah.

Whatever shit that shitty Cain was tangled up with, she hated the General a bit more now.

Damn. He deserved that lie.

Suddenly, her line beeped again.

Luann smiled angrily.

Dating Cain - or having dated him - is a really bigger deal than she had bargained for.

Were they going to interrogate her again? Did they find a lead?

“Commander Luann, speaking.”

Two voices rang out at once.

One was panicked, seemingly belonging to someone named Desiree. The other was calm and sounded like Desiree’s superior.

“HEL-”

“Hush, Desiree. We need to explain the events first. So, we held our morning prayers like usual, then turned on the radio and knitted, but the end of the string somehow disappeared—”

“THAT’S BECAUSE THE ZOMBIES CHOMPED ON IT—”

“Hush, Desiree!”

“Then, we practiced choir like usual, but we heard all sorts of weird moans that messed with the melody-”

“THOSE ARE THE ZOMBIES!”

“For goodness’ sake, Desiree, I’m explaining!”

“Then we decided to knit-”

“WHY DID WE KNIT?!”

“HUSH, DESIREE!”

“And the zombies flooded in. Now we’re okay because the zombies seem to enjoy the music, but I don’t know what will happen when the music goes off…”

“HELP!”

“DESIREE, SHUSH!”

“Wait, okay. Is this the monastery on Fifth Street?”

“YES!”

“Desiree, speak nicely.”

“We’ll be rescuing you soon. Keep the music on.”

“Okay.”

Luann thought again.

Do zombies get distracted by music?

Well, from how they reacted to gunshots, it should have been natural…

Oh, isn’t it great to think about a creep, your ex, and zombies’ listening tastes early in the morning?

A few minutes later, Sergeant Fields arrived with the others and the nuns.

“Corporal Alex, reporting!”

“Everyone accounted for, Corporal?”

“Yes, Ma’am! Our personnel and the rescue targets are all accounted for and unharmed!”

“Good. Do the zombies really get distracted by the music?”

“Yes, Ma’am! The nuns turned on the speakers really loud, and I must say, the music was quite the banger.”

“Uh, okay, Corporal. Thanks for the detailed report!”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

As usual, Sergeant Fields introduced the newcomers and gave them a tour. There were a total of five nuns—four in their fifties or older, with an overwhelming sense of peace, and one in her early thirties. Her name was Desiree, and yes, she was the one Luann had heard screaming over the phone.

“The vibes here are rather bleak, Sergeant.”

“Ah, yes, Ma’am.” Sergeant Fields scratched his head. The situation had been a bit solemn and dry, and the accident that morning had only made it worse. “Do you think you have an idea?”

The nuns looked at each other.

“Ohh, of course we do!”

Luann and the others stood in awe, their jaws dropping.

All five nuns were dancing and rocking their heads, the speakers blasting music. Their previously peaceful, flat expressions were now gleaming. The civilians cheered and danced around them.

One of the four older nuns flipped the record over. If she weren’t wearing her uniform, people would have thought she was a DJ.

Then, in the evening, they’d gather peacefully in circles with the civilians, knitting and crocheting over cups of tea.

Luann walked over to Corporal Alex.

“I must say, their music is a banger, Corporal.”

“Yes, Commander, and I’d say their knitting and crocheting are amusing too.”

“Uh, yes.”

***

“We shouldn’t have shot them!”

“They said no.”

“Killing people still crosses the line, and they were bankers! I’m not going to join a group of barbarians who go around killing people!”

“Oh, does that mean non-bankers have less value, then?”

“Well…”

“Haven’t we been executing the infected too, even though they were once members of our group?”

“But still…”

They were now standing face-to-face. A group of people stood on the other side, while another group stood behind Cain.

Aaron – the escaped convict with tattoos over his face, neck, and hands, stepped into Cain’s group.

“I don’t see any problem. What’s done is done. Do you have any other idea in mind? They said no, so do you want us to keep begging-?”

Cain patted Aaron’s shoulder. That’s ok.

The people’s hearts sank.

Are they friends? Was Cain really a fake priest all along?

They should have known, from Cain’s avoidance of the military and his tattoos, that there was something shady about him.

What are they scheming? What are they going to do now?

Faisal stood a little away from the crowd, while Juan hesitantly stood beside him.

Cain turned away.

“I’m not going to keep anyone hostage. See for yourselves where you want to go, but I’ll be heading down to search for a safehouse.”

Murmurs.

They’re not keeping anyone hostage? Is this their chance to escape, then?

The man in the front, who had been rallying the loudest, laughed.

“Nice to know, then! We’ll be heading to the bank to apologize and join the civil people. Come on, who wants to desert?”

One by one, people left. The deserters walked and walked, until they arrived at the entrance of the bank.

“We come in peace! We’d like to apologize for the earlier incident. We disagreed with the attackers’ actions and came to help in any way we can.”

Silence.

Then, almost unbelievably, the door opened.

The man inside smiled.

“That’s okay. We understand that a big group of people might not agree on the same thing. Come in. Our place is a mess right now, but we have plenty of supplies and could use some help. Please, rest up.”

They beamed.

See? This was the right decision!

But as soon as the door behind them closed, the man disappeared, and another group appeared with guns pointed at their foreheads.

The head of the bank leaned against the railing.

“You really are hopeless fools, aren’t you? Security, fire.”

Gunshots rang.

“Clean the mess.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The lifeless bodies were dragged across the floor, leaving a trail of red blood.

Only thirty people remained.

Led by Cain, they arrived at a garage.

It was an abandoned food storage facility, still filled with packs of food and water. It was large, its metal walls thick enough to keep the cold, dry air out.

While the lock was broken, the barricade was enough to keep the doors closed against the wind.

The thing was, by the time they spotted the first zombie, the entire place would probably already be surrounded by them.

Cain looked around.

Seventeen sick.

“If you’re sick, rest up. If you’re not, be on hourly watch shifts. If you need to take care of another member, report it. Since there are thirteen healthy people, the schedule will be…”

That night, Cain sat with Camilla.

Juan and Faisal were fast asleep, exhausted from all the rooftop shenanigans.

Camilla hadn’t eaten a thing that day. She had a high fever, and everything she tried to eat came right back up.

Her nightmares had gotten worse too.

“Chew this slowly, okay?”

Camilla nodded, but a few seconds later, she retched and cried.

Cain quickly slipped the bucket under her head.

“Is your head hurting again? Do you want some more tea?”

“I don’t want to eat! My throat hurts and I’m so tired!”

Cain sighed.

He stirred the pot, reheating the rice. This time, he added more water, turning it into porridge.

“You need to eat, or else you’ll get even worse.”

“NO!”

“You’ll feel better.”

Camilla hesitated.

“You promise?”

“… Yes.”

Camilla hesitantly tried the porridge.

Her eyes perked.

“How does it taste?”

“It’s good!”

“Why are you crying, then?”

“Th-the flower crown got trampled at th -the bank…”

“Uh but it’s just a flower crown-“

“I LIKED THE FLOWER CROWN!”

“I-I can try making you a new one, maybe…”

Though that took him three fucking hours to make….

“Really? Yayy, thank you!!”

A little boy was spooning soup into the mouth of another boy, probably four years older, who was chained to the wall.

The soup did little to ease his hunger, but it warmed his bruised stomach, and the presence of the little boy was more than enough to soothe him on the cold autumn night.

He hummed a melody.