Samira woke up on a pallet covered with rice packages that served as a makeshift bed. Around her, the warehouse was silent, most people still asleep, scattered across the floor on the mattresses that João Paulo and Bruno had brought earlier. Thankfully, she had one of the few blankets they'd managed to find, which helped keep her warm in the chilly air.
Rising quietly, she looked around as she made her way toward João Paulo, who was sitting guard near the door, scrolling through his phone. He was the only one awake besides her. As she walked, her eyes instinctively searched for her brother—but he wasn't there. A knot of worry formed in her chest.
— Jão, where's my brother? — she asked, her voice trembling with concern.
João Paulo froze for a moment, clearly uncomfortable. On his phone, a video was paused—something about a new type of mutant infected. He took a slow breath before answering.
— Listen, Samira… I don't really know how to tell you this, but… your brother was a hero. — His voice was soft, cautious, and he rested a hand on her shoulder.
— He's dead? — she asked, her eyes already welling with tears.
João Paulo averted his gaze, searching for the right words.
— Before you passed out… remember that horde of infected trying to break in here? — He paused. — He's the one who led them away. All of them. Alone. But he hasn't come back, so… I think he didn't make it.
Samira stood still for a moment, struggling to process his words.
— He… did that to save us? — she whispered, barely audible.
João Paulo nodded, visibly shaken.
— I'm really sorry, Samira. I mean it.
They sat in silence for a long time. The night dragged on, heavy and still, until the faint light of dawn began to seep into the warehouse—bringing with it not peace, but the fragile illusion of a new beginning.
***
Just before dawn, after finishing his meal, Bruno glanced out the window. His eyes narrowed as he saw the street still crawling with infected. Exhaustion and frustration ate away at him. He shouted, slamming his fist into the wall.
— Damn it! Just an hour till sunrise and these freaks are still infesting this fucking street! GODDAMMIT!
Without thinking, he grabbed an empty pot from the sink and hurled it with all his strength. The pot flew out the window, hitting one of the infected square in the back.
— FUCK YOU, YOU SONS OF BITCHES! — he roared, his eyes beginning to take on that strange, shifting hue again.
A sharp pain pulsed in his head—intense, but bearable. He ignored it, focusing on the scene outside. The pot clattered to the ground, but nothing changed. Only the infected that had been hit reacted. The rest didn't move an inch. Frowning, Bruno grabbed two more pots—threw one at another infected and slammed the other onto the pavement. The same result. Only the ones struck moved.
He muttered to himself, thoughtful:— No way… They only react when you touch them at night? Shit, I need to test this.
Without hesitation, he grabbed a smooth-bladed knife—not too big, not too small—and headed downstairs. He stepped over the door that had been broken by the dead infected, their corpses now stiff and reeking. It was still a mystery how they'd died while he was unconscious. The wooden floor creaked beneath his weight. He froze, holding his breath. Looked outside. Nothing.
A relieved smile crept across his face, but it quickly twisted into something far more unhinged. He flung the door open and shouted into the street:— HEY, YOU ROTTEN FREAKS! COME GET SOME OF THIS BEAUTIFUL, TENDER MEAT RIGHT HERE! DON'T FORGET TO GRAB A HAND OF THE SAUSAGE TOO—QUALITY MEAT, GUARANTEED!
Silence. Not a single infected stirred. Bruno burst out laughing, his voice echoing down the empty street.— Nothing… That's right. — he muttered, a manic grin spreading across his face.
He approached the nearest infected, each step deliberate. Stopped right in front of the creature, heart pounding fast. Without touching it, he taunted it—made faces, flipped it off, laughed in its face. Nothing. The creature stood motionless, like a grotesque statue.
Bruno pulled his phone from his pocket and switched on the flashlight, aiming it directly into the infected's eyes. The moment the light hit its face, it let out a guttural roar and lunged, teeth bared. Bruno jumped back, almost dropping his phone. But as soon as the light moved away, the infected froze again, motionless.
— So that's it… No touch, no light, and you just stand there, dead as fish. — He chuckled, his grin turning wild. — Good to know.
— The air felt heavier. Bruno's breathing grew ragged, his eyes flashing with something dark. Anxiety detonated into an uncontrollable excitement. He raised the knife and yelled:
— You're all fucked in my hands now!
— Without thinking, he tore into the infected. The blade ripped flesh, blood sprayed. Bruno smashed skulls with whatever he found in his way. Each blow, each geyser of blood delivered a satisfaction he'd never known. It was as if all the violence he'd repressed had finally been unleashed. He wasn't fighting to survive anymore. This was pure pleasure.
— As dawn broke and the sky went orange, Bruno stopped. He was soaked in blood, muscles burning, but his mind… his mind felt more alive than ever. He walked up to an abandoned car and froze when he saw his reflection in the glass.
— The person staring back wasn't him. Blood on his face, that wild smile… a monster. For a beat he shivered, then it vanished. Fear gave way to a potent rush of power. He smiled again—wider.
— He pulled his phone from his pocket, plugged in his earphones and looked for a song. When "Monster" by Skillet kicked in, Bruno laughed.
— That's it! This one's for you, you bastards!
— He sang and shouted down the streets, daring any infected that might still respond. No one came. The sun climbed slowly, exposing the wreckage everywhere. Bruno walked like a king through the ruins, the music blaring in his ears:
"I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin…"
— With every line he bobbed his head, feeling the beat in his bones. He wasn't the same person anymore—and, deep down, he loved it.
— After walking for a while and finding no one, and not wanting to reach the market so early, Bruno started forcing his way into houses along the route looking for action.
— Fuck… The pleasure and satisfaction I'm feeling is fucked up. Before, every time I hit an infected it gave me this weird feeling, but now… it's like an enormous happiness takes over. Time slows down, everything goes in slow motion, and I'm in control—just me and my demons…
— Bruno stepped into a house with two infected inside. After so many fights in such a short time, he felt like he was getting used to dealing with adult infected. What used to be a struggle was now almost routine—push the first one, hit the second one once, twice, three times until it dropped. Finish the first, shove it again, kill the second, and then toy with the first, tearing it apart completely.
— After taking both down, Bruno heard a noise—something falling. He froze for a second, then moved quickly to check it out.
— He looked around but saw nothing. Then a strong smell hit him—urine. He glanced down and noticed something wet spreading out from under the bed. A white porcelain jar, decorated with little flowers, lay shattered on the other side. Suspicious, Bruno stepped out of the room and came back holding a broom.
— He jabbed under the bed.
— "Ah!"
— A high-pitched, feminine scream echoed.
— "Wait a second… infected don't scream 'ah!'" he muttered.
— Bruno lifted the bed frame and looked underneath. His eyes widened. A beautiful young woman with fiery red hair stared back at him. For a moment, he was speechless. She was stunning—like someone pulled straight from a dream or a painting. Fair skin, light eyes, an hourglass waist, perfectly defined curves, toned muscles that showed she worked out. But right now, she was terrified, lying in a puddle of old urine.
— When she saw Bruno, she froze. Her fear was so overwhelming she couldn't even scream. And honestly, who could blame her? He stood there, covered in blood, holding a knife still dripping red.
— Bruno tossed the bed frame aside, noticing the panic in her eyes. He extended his hand and said calmly:— Can you stand up? Relax… I'm not gonna do anything you don't want me to.
— The girl didn't speak, but after a moment's hesitation, she took his hand and stood. The stench hit him hard, and though he didn't want to sound rude, he said:— For now, this place is safe. But I'd recommend you change clothes and take a shower before heading out. And, uh, try not to look at the bodies around the house.
— The redhead, still shaken, didn't know whether to trust Bruno or make a run for it. In the end, she chose to stay. She had been hiding under that bed since everything began, too scared to move. Deep down, she knew she wouldn't survive alone. So she nodded and did as he said.
— As she cleaned up, Bruno tried to break the silence:— By the way… what's your name?
— She didn't look at Bruno. Intimidated by his terrifying appearance and oblivious to the bodies scattered through the house, she answered in a small voice:
— Íris. Íris Miranda.
Bruno stuck out his right hand, trying to be polite:
— Nice to meet you, I'm Bruno Mohammad.
Íris took his hand with obvious unease, then quickly turned to rummage for clothes and get into the shower. Bruno went to lock the door and started fixing something to eat for the two of them.
Under the running water, Íris' mind raced. She still couldn't decide whether she could trust him. He looked awful, but his voice was calm and surprisingly gentle, and his face didn't show the kind of bloodlust she'd expected.
Standing under the shower, she thought:
— This guy is terrifying… He's completely calm after killing two people, and with that much blood on his clothes he's probably done a lot more. My mom… my aunts… damn.
Tears came, and her thoughts spun faster:
— Why is this happening? Is it God punishing us, or some man-made thing — like that "deer-zombie" virus people were freaking out about that year?
Suddenly Bruno knocked on the door and Íris flinched. He called through:
— Íris, you okay in there? Don't take forever, alright?
She tried to steady herself and answered, forcing composure:
— I'll be right out!
While she showered, Bruno set the table with food and went to the kitchen window to watch the street. He saw an infected figure wandering aimlessly down the middle of the road.
He thought to himself, quietly:
— I didn't expect to find anyone alive in here. Maybe there are more survivors around… The streets were pretty empty in the first days, but now these bastards are showing up more and more. Still… why the hell am I actually liking this idea, even after killing my mom and sisters?
He shook his head, doubtful.
— This is dangerous. It's not even feeling like I'm in control anymore… How did I get to this point? I've almost died so many times these past few days… and the worst part is, I'm fine with it. I don't feel anything about anything. It's like I'm watching a movie — just seeing it all through someone else's eyes. And even though it's hollow, distant… I kind of like it.
Íris walked into the kitchen, and when she saw the table full of food, a wave of surprise hit her.
Bruno looked up and froze for a moment — she looked even more beautiful after the shower.
— You took your time.
Íris sat down, still glancing at the table in disbelief. She scooped up a spoonful and tasted it.
— This is delicious — she said, clearly grateful, but also curious why he was being so nice to a complete stranger. — But… why did you make all this for me?
Bruno took a moment before answering, his tone thoughtful but blunt.
— It's obvious you haven't eaten or drunk anything for a while. And I'm not about to drag dead weight around, that's for sure.
Íris didn't seem offended by his harsh way of speaking. She decided to keep the conversation going — partly to relax, and partly to learn more about him… and about what was really happening outside.
— I stayed under that bed the whole time… ever since everything started. But tell me something — why are you helping me?
Bruno smiled faintly, his gaze locked on her face, then slowly moving to her red hair.
— You just looked like a scared little kitten, so I figured I'd play the hero, you know? — he said, his tone laced with teasing confidence.
Íris gave a nervous smile, but the sight of his blood-stained clothes — and the destroyed bodies of the infected around the house — kept her guard up. She knew better than to relax around someone who might be more dangerous than he seemed.
— I can still see all that blood on your clothes, and I'm gonna be honest… I don't exactly feel safe hanging around a guy who walks around slicing everything up like some psycho killer. — Her tone was careful, not hostile, but steady enough to make her point.
Bruno noticed her unease and smiled faintly, almost amused. He liked that she was direct — smart enough to choose her words wisely. That made him want to hide his darker side and show her a version of himself that was calm, maybe even mysterious — someone she could trust. After all, he liked what he saw.
— I've just been running, fighting, and killing whatever gets in my way. — he said flatly, concealing the twisted thrill he still felt from every kill.
Íris sensed that he was mirroring her tone — trying to meet her halfway. So she decided to test him. Using the psychological tricks she'd learned back in college, she began to observe him more closely — his posture, his tone, his eyes.
There was something off about Bruno. At times, his stare made her feel like she wasn't sitting across from a person… but from a predator sizing up its prey.
— Do you feel anything when you kill those "zombies"?
Bruno answers honestly, his voice carrying a trace of indifference.
— I did at first, but now it just feels natural to me… even though it's only been three days since it all started. By the way, why did you say "zombie"?
She puts the last spoonful of food in her mouth, chewing slowly as she thinks about her answer.
— Isn't it obvious? It's probably that zombie deer disease… I'm just curious about how it suddenly spread to people, how everyone lost their minds inside their own homes. — She replies, trying to sound confident, though she clearly isn't.
Bruno, impressed by Iris's sharpness, gives a faint smile.
— Interesting… so you like to stay informed, huh? Good for you. — He gets up from the chair, admiring the way she carries herself.
Suddenly, he locks eyes with her — deeply, as if trying to see something beyond the surface.
— Do you think you could find the courage to kill… if you had to? — Bruno's voice holds a challenging tone, as if he could see straight into her soul.
Iris is caught off guard by the question. She doesn't quite know how to respond, but something in his intense gaze forces an answer out of her. And then… Bruno's eyes begin to change right before her — the brown shifting into a vivid, burning red.
— My God… your eyes… What are you? — she whispers, terrified.
Bruno immediately steps back, squeezing his eyes shut as if trying to hide something. Iris, still trembling, watches his sudden change in demeanor — and despite the fear, her curiosity starts to outweigh her instinct to run. She rises slowly, her movements cautious, but she can't help inching closer, even as every part of her screams to stay away.
— What was that? — she asks softly, trying to mask her fear.
Bruno steps back, his heavy footsteps echoing through the kitchen. He extends an arm — a clear gesture for her to stay back, as though creating an invisible barrier between them.
— There's nothing for you to see here. — His voice is tense, almost cutting, and he avoids looking her in the eyes.
But Iris isn't satisfied. Her gaze stays locked on him, searching for an answer. She takes another step forward, her heart pounding.
— What's the deal with my eyes, huh? — Bruno suddenly asks, turning his face away from her curious gaze. His voice is steady, but there's a faint trace of irritation — maybe even fear.
Iris freezes, feeling the air around them grow heavy. The tension of that moment made everything feel smaller, tighter — almost claustrophobic. She hesitates for a moment but quickly realizes there's something bigger at play. Something Bruno is desperate to hide.
— Your eyes… they changed. — Iris finally says, her voice low and nervous. — It was like… like they turned red. That's not normal.
Bruno lets out a short, almost forced laugh, shaking his head in denial.
— Oh, come on. You've never seen someone with red eyes before? It's just the light, damn it. Don't freak out. — He tries to sound casual, but his tone betrays a quiet unease he can't quite suppress.
Iris doesn't believe him. Something deep inside tells her it wasn't just a trick of the light — but she decides not to press him further… for now.
She steps back, looking down at the table as she takes a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. After a long silence, she finally answers, her voice trembling slightly:— To answer your question… I don't think I could. You know, I've always thought about taking care of myself, training, studying… but I never imagined I'd ever have to kill someone. I don't like the idea at all. — She pauses, resting one hand on the table as her eyes wander across the room. — But now, more than ever, I know it's what I have to do. The problem is, I'm certain I'm not ready for it.
Bruno watches her carefully, his eyes locked on hers but showing no judgment. He crosses his arms, tilts his head slightly, and replies with a voice that's firm and cold — almost inhuman:— Nobody's ever ready for anything… until they do it. Doesn't matter how much you run it through your head — in the end, all that's left is blood, pain, and suffering. Especially when you're forced to kill the ones you love most.
A heavy silence falls. Bruno looks away, staring blankly at the wall. The memory of his mother and sister flashes through his mind, then fades just as quickly — leaving only the physical echo of the hammer crushing their skulls. He can't tell if he hates what he did… or hates that he feels nothing when he remembers it.
Trying to change the subject, Bruno glances back at Iris, this time focusing on her face.— This talk got boring… fast. So, how old are you, kid?
Iris notices the discomfort in his words — the pain he's trying to bury. Choosing not to push further, she answers casually while picking up her plate from the table:— Seventeen. What about you?
Bruno gives a faint smile.— Huh… guess that makes you a few months older than me.
Iris frowns, noticing something she hadn't before. Her eyes narrow as she studies him more closely.— You've got two bite marks. — She points out, her tone carrying a hint of boldness. — One on your arm and another on your shoulder. How the hell are you still alive and talking like a normal person?
The question makes Bruno chuckle — a short, dry laugh. He shakes his head like it's nothing, but there's a strange gleam in his eyes.— I don't know… Maybe it's because I'm too scared to die. — His voice is soft, almost hypnotic. — Maybe that fear's the only thing keeping me alive. Or maybe… it's just my insane will to keep fighting.
Iris doesn't know what to think. Bruno is terrifying — cold and unpredictable — yet there's something about him that draws her in. Something she just can't ignore.
She crossed her arms, trying not to show her unease.— Fear, willpower… got it — she said, her tone carrying a hint of sarcasm. — But it's good if that's true, because you're starting to look weirder than those things out there —
Bruno just shrugged, a sly smile forming at the corner of his mouth, his brown eyes—almost red—locking onto hers once again.
He moved closer to the window, eyes alert to the erratic movements outside. Some infected had appeared in the street, staggering like dogs sniffing out fresh meat. He sighed, feeling the weight of the decision before even making it. He looked at Íris, already knowing it would be best to leave her here—for now, at least. He had no idea what he would find at the market after the invasion.
— Just a quick question… would it be a problem if you stayed here for a while? — he asked, not taking his eyes off the monsters outside.
Íris frowned, confused. This place? Seriously? Her family's mutilated bodies were still scattered through the house, the smell of blood lingering in the walls.
— Can I ask why? Because honestly, I'm dying to get out of here — Her voice was sharp, defiant.
Bruno simply nodded, motioning for her to come closer. Íris hesitated, but curiosity won. She walked over and peered out the window. As soon as she saw what he wanted to show her, her heart began to race. Goosebumps ran across her entire body.
Outside, the infected wandered aimlessly, dead eyes and mouths smeared with dried blood. One scratched the hood of a car, leaving claw marks in the metal. Another dragged a mangled leg, pulling shredded flesh along the asphalt.
— It'll be safer if you stay here for now — Bruno said, observing her reaction. — The place I'm going to has already been overrun by these creatures. I just want to check if I can find anyone, then I'll come back, okay? —
Íris looked away from the street, swallowing hard.
— And do you think you'll be out there long? Or… is it far? — Her voice trembled slightly, filled with fear.
Bruno spun the knife's handle in his hand, testing his grip.— I have no idea if it'll take long. But it's not far. It's the neighborhood market —
Without waiting for more questions, he opened the door with his left hand, ready to step outside.