The apartment door opened with the loudest screech the wood and rust could produce.
The street, barely lit by the reddish, dying light of distant fires, was a mosaic of overturned cars and crawling shadows. The silence wasn't peace but the absence of civilization, broken only by distant groans and occasional gunshots.
"Now! To the corner!" Zane hissed.
They all ran without looking back.
Zane led the way, with both machetes drawn. Liam, his bandaged arm hanging uselessly, was right behind, and Chloe was glued to him, her backpack bouncing on her back.
A couple of the slow ones, the "Walkers," turned toward the screech. They quickly located them, dragging their putrefied feet toward the noise.
"Left!" Zane shouted.
A Walker blocked Chloe's path. Before the monster could even raise its hands, Zane had already turned around. The scene was brutally efficient: a dry CHUCK from the machete separated the head from the body in mid-air. The body dropped.
"Did you see that?" Liam whispered, his breath catching. "It was like... like you've been practicing that move for ten years!"
Zane didn't reply. He only glanced at Chloe, who was pale but running.
"The subway entrance! It's open!" Chloe shouted.
Another group, this time three, dragged themselves out of a smashed pizzeria. Zane stopped, giving Liam and Chloe a second to pass him. They weren't fast, but they were persistent.
This time, it was a macabre dance. Zane used the weight of the second machete to unbalance the first, then pivoted on his heel and decapitated the second before the third could even react. The third was a simple, direct blow to the back of the neck, severing the spinal cord.
"We made it!" Liam gasped as they entered the gloom of the subway access, a dirty, stinking hole.
Chloe stopped, bent over, and rested her hands on her knees. She was trembling, but her eyes shone with awe.
"Zane, you don't have to... you're incredible," she said, trying to catch her breath. "It looked like a martial arts movie. Where did you learn that?"
Zane felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He had massacred monsters without flinching, but Chloe's simple compliment made him more nervous than a horde.
"I... it's just practice," Zane muttered, frowning as he checked the machete. "With video games. A lot of hack-and-slash, you know I've always been a fan of them."
Liam leaned against the brick wall, laughing softly. "Yeah, right. Hack-and-slash. Meaning 'Saint' practiced body combat fencing, dismembering imaginary zombies, but here, he doesn't dare tell Chloe he likes her hoodie."
Zane shot him a murderous glare. "What did we just say about not shouting?"
"I didn't shout, I just spoke in a voice that praises a hero," Liam retorted. "But seriously, Chloe's right. You're a god of death. If only you could be that brave with girls..."
"Liam, shut up! Focus. Down." Zane ignored the twinge in his chest and the blush. He needed the adrenaline to shield him from this other, more dangerous, threat.
The air was heavy and smelled of mold, urine, and rusted iron. The light from outside quickly dissipated. They pulled out their flashlights, which barely revealed the dark tunnel and the tracks.
"Don't make noise. There are more tunnels that could bring surprises," Zane warned them.
They began walking on the tracks, entering the mouth of the main tunnel. There were stopped trains along the line. They headed toward one of the cars.
"Trains are traps. We're not getting in," Zane said.
However, as they got closer, they heard something. It wasn't the groan of a zombie. It was silent sobbing.
Zane stopped. He pointed toward a dark, stuck train car that looked like its doors were chained shut.
"Stay behind me, Liam," Zane ordered.
He approached the car. He could hear a faint child's cry and the desperate whisper of someone trying to calm them.
Zane tapped the metal door with the handle of his machete, twice, in a quick pattern.
The response was immediate, terrified silence.
"We're survivors. We're armed, but we're here to help," Zane whispered softly but firmly into the door crack. "If you don't answer, we're leaving. We can't wait."
There was a silent struggle inside. A cautious woman peered out of a slit. She saw Zane, with his two machetes dripping in the darkness, and Chloe and Liam (one wounded, the other with a knife).
The woman opened the door slightly. Behind her, there were at least a dozen people. She quickly counted: Five women, two men (one of whom seemed to have a dirty leg wound), and several children huddled together.
"Please... are you real?" the woman whispered, her eyes full of tears. Her face was strong, but her voice was shaking. "I'm Sarah. We got trapped when the disaster started. Most people fled, but we didn't dare leave because of those monsters."
"I'm Zane. And if you stay here, you're going to die," Zane said bluntly. "I saw a couple of them following me. We need to move. How many are injured?"
"Two men, including my husband, Mark," Sarah said, pointing to the man with the leg. "We can't move fast."
Zane looked at the people. They were a slow burden and a noise magnet, but he couldn't leave them. Once they opened up to him, his sense of responsibility activated. He had never been able to turn his back on women and children, so even if it was more dangerous, he had to get them out of there.
"Liam, stay with Chloe. Sarah, I need you and the other women to be able to carry the wounded. I'm giving you five minutes to get ready. I'm going to clear the tracks ahead of us."
Zane turned around, and with the flashlight in his mouth and a machete in each hand, he walked into the darkness of the tunnel. It was the first time he had felt less alone since he returned. Now, he was responsible for all of them.