Shortly after the meal, the group began their exodus.
Felicity, Tevin, and Nero moved ahead, forming a triangle at the forefront of seventy high school students, most of whom were burdened with supplies—cartons of milk, packets of biscuits, sacks of rice and oats, flour, and enough waffles to feed everyone who had taken shelter in the gymnasium.
They huddled tightly together, a living mass of anxious youth packed like sardines, eyes wide and feet uncertain.
At the front, Felicity was a blur.
Her short, curved swords glinted under the overcast sun, dancing with ruthless precision. She blinked rapidly—so fast her movements were inhuman—cleaving through the encroaching undead. In one seamless sweep, a dozen zombies collapsed in her wake. The elegance in her violence was undeniable, and awe spread like wildfire through the group. Respect had already taken root, but now it bloomed.
To witness her move was to see death personified in beautiful form.
Beside her, Nero conjured ball after ball of flame, hurling them into the heads of zombies with terrifying accuracy. Each hit left behind scorched skulls and smoldering bodies.
Tevin, ever brutal, wielded his bone spear with practiced aggression. Every few minutes, he'd erupt into a sprint, crashing through zombies like a human battering ram. The carnage he left behind—limbs, viscera, mangled faces—was so gruesome it made more than one student gag, their breakfasts threatening to come back up.
Then the moment fractured.
"Stephanie!" a girl screamed, her voice breaking into raw emotion. She pointed, her entire body trembling. From the flank, a zombie staggered forward, its face familiar, horrifyingly familiar.
Her sister.
The girl thrashed against her classmates, trying to shove past them toward the decaying figure. "It's my sister!" she cried, struggling, flailing. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fought like a wild animal to get through but was held back.
Tevin froze. His spear lowered as he turned back. His eyes widened in shock at the scene unfolding before him.
This wasn't just a threat. It was grief weaponized.
His head turned quickly toward the rear—toward Merek, who marched behind the group with his silent armored wraiths, the ever-watchful Vultures meant to guard the rear flank.
But Merek… was frozen.
This was the first time anyone had seen him hesitate.
What Merek saw wasn't just a girl crying for a sister—she was him. What would he do if his younger brother was in that same spot, staring blankly with lifeless eyes. His fingers trembled at his side. He couldn't bring himself to give the command.
Would the girl hate him forever if he ordered her sister's death?
Would he have hated the one who did the same?
But the truth…
Slash!
A Vulture moved on its own, its black blade whispering through the air before severing the zombie's head with surgical precision. A faint mist flowed from the corpse and seeped into the Vulture's glowing eye slits.
For a brief moment, the armored wraith paused. It turned, eyes locking with the girl's wide, trembling ones.
Then it moved on—wordless, emotionless, dispatching more zombies as the noise had drawn unwanted attention to the flank.
The girl stared, slack-jawed, arms limp at her sides.
She collapsed to her knees.
And then—she screamed.
A shriek of pain, rage, and loss. So piercing it silenced the entire procession.
Some students flinched. Others muttered uneasily.
"Should we leave her behind…?" someone whispered. "She's gonna get us all killed."
Because now, fear rippled through the group like a second skin.
If a mutant beast heard that scream…
They might not survive it.
Merek watched as Nero approached the girl who looked at him like he was some kind of demon. Nero squatted and after speaking with her for a moment, she nodded and the group continued moving.
Merek didn't know what Nero said but what he saw back there made him know he still wasn't strong enough. If a Stage-1 zombie could almost take his life, then how could he protect Lucas?
The rest of the journey passed without incident. No mutated beasts, no sudden ambushes. Just a heavy silence broken by the shuffle of feet and the occasional cough.
When they finally reached the gymnasium, a collective exhale filled the air. Relief—but laced with exhaustion.
Merek was the last to enter. As the heavy doors creaked shut behind him, the sound echoed through the vast, echoey space like the sealing of a tomb.
Inside, chaos had erupted.
Students and professors—some of whom had once driven luxury cars, sipped wine from crystal glasses, and dined at polished tables—now clawed at crates of food and water like starving animals. They gulped down water, tore open biscuit packets, and devoured waffles with greasy fingers. There was no grace, no decorum. Only desperation.
They stuffed their mouths with such ferocity that even roadside beggars might have looked on with pity.
In a relatively calmer corner, Professor David stood with Felicity, Nero, Tevin, and Fred—who was too focused on shoveling food into his mouth to offer a greeting. Crumbs clung to his lips, and a half-eaten waffle remained in his hand.
"Merek, over here," Professor David called out, waving him over.
Merek approached and pulled three keys from the pocket of his coat. They clinked gently in his hand as he held them up. "These are the bus keys. All three still have fuel, and their tires are intact."
Felicity blinked, her expression tightening. "You didn't tell us that?!"
"I forgot," Merek said simply.
Professor David chuckled, a short, warm laugh to diffuse the tension. "You did good," he said, patting Merek's shoulder. "Once everyone's fed and steady on their feet, we'll go for the buses. I can drive one myself. Those three—" he gestured toward a trio of students nearby, their mouths full as they hungrily chewed, "will handle the rest."
Carla was with them, whispering words of caution "Eat slowly, chew properly." But her voice was drowned by the sounds of stuffing mouths and rumbling stomachs. Hunger silenced reason.
Everyone nodded in agreement. A plan was forming. Finally, there was hope to reach White Shop camp.
Merek turned and quietly slipped away into the storage room. He was about to sit when a knock sounded behind him.
He turned toward the door. "Who is it?"
"It's me." Felicity's voice came through, sharper and colder than usual.
He opened the door.
She stepped inside, leaning against the wall with arms folded and eyes locked onto him. Her presence brought tension with it, like a blade unsheathed.
"Why didn't you tell me you found the buses?" she asked, voice low, unreadable.
"I forgot," Merek replied, just as plainly.
Her eyes narrowed. Doubt danced just behind them—flashes of suspicion and something close to anger.
"You doubt me?" Merek said quietly, not looking up at her. "After I brought back all those items, my plan was to mention the buses right after. But when you undressed… it threw everything else out of my mind."
Felicity's glare faltered. The heat behind her eyes dimmed slightly, replaced by a flicker of embarrassment. His tone was too honest, too casual for her to believe it was a manipulation.
"As if that wasn't enough," Merek continued, "Nero showed up. Then this morning, we ate in silence and came straight here." He looked up at her now. "So yeah… I forgot."
Felicity looked away, her cheeks slightly pink. She bit her lip and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "So… you forgot," she murmured.
"I told you I did," Merek said, sitting down on the floor with a quiet sigh. He pulled out a small sketchbook from his backpack and flipped through it—pages filled with designs and diagrams of armor. With the tip of his pencil, he began sketching another design, his focus shifting completely from the conversation.
Felicity watched him for a moment longer, unsure of what to say.
Then she turned and left the room.
As she stepped out into the gym, several eyes turned toward her—students, professors. Their gazes flicked over her with curiosity, some with suspicion, others with knowing expressions. But none of it fazed her.
Their stares could do nothing. Her cold indifference was like armor—impenetrable.
Nero, however, clenched his fists at his sides.
He had seen her go in. He had seen her come out. And he saw something between them that unsettled him.
The Felicity he knew would never do this. She had never entered his apartment even for a minute!
He was beginning to feel threatened.
Beside him, Fred noticed the change. He didn't say a word, but the corner of his lips twitched upward.
A faint smile.
Barely visible.
But it was there.