There was something wrong with her.

Rolen couldn’t stop staring at the blonde. Her arms were still wrapped tight around herself, but her posture had shifted—it was subtle but noticeable. Her breath had grown uneven... shallower.

Nathan noticed too.

He moved beside Rolen and leaned in, voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear. "You seeing this?"

Rolen gave a small nod. "Something’s wrong..."

Nathan’s eyes narrowed, calculating. “She was grabbed earlier, outside. I saw something on her arm—didn’t get a clear look.”

Rolen didn’t respond. A knot twisted in his stomach, fear resurfacing, his eyes never leaving the woman while his body tensed up.

The walls felt like they were closing in, the kind of silence that made your own heartbeat sound too loud.

Then the blonde suddenly stumbled forward.

Both men flinched—Nathan reached for something on the counter. The woman hit the folding table hard, knocking over a rusted thermos and scattering a few dusty paper cups. The noise almost deafening in the silence that came before. Everyone was on high alert, even the brunette was staring at the woman with wide eyes.

Then the blonde grunted. It came deep from within her—a wet sound that didn’t belong in a human throat.

Rolen held his breath, his legs shaking, but before he could even shout—

She lunged.

Her mouth opened unnaturally wide, teeth snapping, creating this awful sound of bone hitting bone. She charged at the brunette with animal speed.

The girl screamed and fell back, gripping the crazed woman in a desperate attempt to stop her. Nathan was already moving, grabbing the blonde’s shoulder and yanking her off—but not before her nails raked down the girl’s cheek, leaving deep, red trails.

“She's infected—!” Nathan barked, slamming the blonde into the wall. Her head snapped back from the impact, but she didn't seem to feel it. She twisted toward him with a snarl, saliva bubbling at the corner of her mouth.

The brunette scrambled away, sobbing in pure panic. She got up on her wobbly legs, not even glancing at the two men before running towards the door.

“No—!” Rolen shouted, his body already moving to try and stop her.

Too late.

The lock clicked. The door swung open.

A half-rotted face pushed through first, followed by rotten hands and a gurgling moan. The brunette screamed again, the infected grabbing onto her hair. Her arms—anything they could grab—were seized, and she was yanked out so fast her shoes were left behind. Screams turned to choking gasps. The hallway echoed with the sound of tearing flesh and bone hitting concrete.

Rolen slammed the door shut, breath heaving. He fumbled the lock, then pressed both palms to the wood like that might somehow hold it all back.

All the while, Nathan was still struggling with the woman. He pinned her to the floor, before pulling out an army knife attached to his belt and driving it down the woman's skull.

The blonde lay motionless now, blood seeping from where her head was stabbed. Her eyes were open while her body was still twitching.

Nathan stood slowly after making sure she was dead and wasn't getting up again.

“We need to find somewhere safer,” he muttered, not looking at Rolen. “Soon.”

Rolen stared at the streak of blood trailing from underneath the door as the screaming of the brunette had stopped on the other side. His heartbeat was drumming in his ears and his breath was ragged, panic setting in. His mind comprehending that he just witnessed two people die in a horrific way.

Rolen stammered back, his wide eyes now slowly moving over to the dead woman on the floor, only to shakily look up at Nathan. "Y-You killed her..."

Nathan quickly noticed Rolen’s shock about it all and took a step closer, causing the young engineer to flinch. "If I hadn’t killed her, she would've infected both of us." He took another slow step closer.

"I need you sharp right now. We need to search this room for medical supplies, food, and weapons. Do you think you can do that?" Nathan's words were slow yet calculated. The last thing he wanted or needed was for the only other survivor to lose his shit. He didn’t blame him — not for a second. The situation was delicate. Rolen was delicate. But survival came first.