The power died just after midnight.
Not all at once, first a flicker, then a long, sickly hum that made the fluorescent lights buzz like dying insects before surrendering to the dark.
Silence followed... dense, total silence.
Only the scrape of Mike's pacing broke it, and the faint hum of Kazuma's phone as he scrolled through his downloaded schematics.
Dan lay on the floor with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling as though this were just another sleepless night in the library.
"Alright," Mike muttered, voice echoing in the dark, "just so I'm not hallucinating... your grand plan still involves driving a train out of the apocalypse?"
Kazuma didn't look up. "Drive implies steering. Trains follow tracks."
"Right," Mike said. "Because that's the problem here."
Dan chuckled quietly. "You'll learn to appreciate his logic. Like painkillers... numbs the panic."
Mike shot him a glare. "And you? You've said maybe ten words that didn't sound like a therapy brochure."
"I prefer efficiency," Dan said simply.
"Yeah? How's that working out for the apocalypse?"
Dan smirked faintly. "I'm still alive."
Kazuma's tone cut through their exchange, even and sharp. "Enough. We need supplies... tools, food, water. Then we head east."
Mike frowned. "And the army? Surely they'll..."
"They're gone," Kazuma interrupted. "Emergency frequencies are dead. Military channel stopped transmitting three hours ago."
The air went still. Even Mike, for once, had no joke.
Outside, something crashed... glass breaking, followed by a scream abruptly cut short.
Kazuma turned toward the window. "We leave at dawn."
Dawn
Fog blanketed the campus so thick it swallowed sound.
The world beyond the library looked like the ruins of a forgotten city... posters fluttering limply on walls, the quad littered with papers, shoes, and long trails of dried blood.
Mike gripped an iron rod like a baseball bat. "I used to complain about eight-a.m. classes," he muttered. "Guess I owe the timetable an apology."
Dan scanned the misted courtyard. "North exit's blocked. We'll have to cut through the art wing."
Mike grimaced. "You sure? That place creeped me out even before the apocalypse."
"Good," Kazuma said. "Then no one else will go there either."
~~~ Somewhere at the Art Wing ~~~
The art department had always been its own strange kingdom... corridors that smelled of turpentine and linseed oil, sculptures staring half-finished from the shadows, paintings leaning like silent witnesses against the walls.
Now it was dead quiet. Too quiet.
Kazuma moved first, every step calculated. Mike followed close, weapon ready. Dan brought up the rear... steady, alert.
Halfway down the hall, Mike froze. "You hear that?"
A sound... soft, uneven... like someone trying not to cry.
They traced it to a studio, the door half-closed. Sunlight filtered through dust and smoke. Torn canvases littered the floor. In the corner, behind a fallen easel, a small figure huddled... gripping a broken paintbrush like a knife.
A girl. Short black hair tied messily back, cheer uniform ripped and smeared with paint. Her blue eyes wide and glassy with shock.
When she saw them, she flinched.
"Stay back!" she cried, voice trembling. "I... I'll stab you!"
Mike raised both hands. "Whoa, easy there! We're not one of them, see? No bites, no blood... just terrible fashion sense!"
Kazuma stepped forward slowly. "We're human. What's your name?"
The girl hesitated. "Leina. Leina Moon."
Dan tilted his head. "Art program, right?"
Her eyes widened. "How did you—"
"Oil on your sleeves," he said. "Still fresh. Linseed smell hasn't faded."
Mike gave a crooked grin. "He notices the weirdest things, doesn't he?"
Leina's breath hitched. "My friends… they ran when it started. I tried to find them but..." her voice cracked..."they didn't make it."
Mike's grin softened. "Hey. You did. That counts."
She looked down at her torn uniform, cheeks flushed. "I know I look ridiculous."
Mike shook his head. "Nah. You look like hope in a bad horror film."
For a moment, she almost smiled. A small, fragile laugh escaped her throat.
Then the sound came... low, guttural... from somewhere deep in the hall.
The laugh died instantly.
From the corridor's far end came dragging footsteps. One pair, then another. Then many.
Kazuma turned sharply. "They've found us. Move."
The next few minutes blurred together... screams, pounding feet, the wet sound of teeth and bone.
Infected students and teachers poured from the shadows... faces gray, jaws slick, eyes unfocused.
Leina stumbled back as one lunged at her, but Mike intercepted, swinging his iron rod with a yell. It smashed through a table of paint jars... glass exploding, colors splattering across the floor in a violent swirl of reds, blues, and greens.
Kazuma grabbed Leina's arm and yanked her toward the stairwell. "Go!"
Dan followed last, moving with eerie calm, overturning a heavy shelf to block the passage. "That'll buy us thirty seconds."
They burst into the daylight... gasping, panting, alive.
Mike doubled over, laughing half-madly through his fear. "Did you see that? I just saved someone with modern art!"
Leina stared at him, half furious, half bewildered. "You think this is funny?"
He shrugged, still catching his breath. "If I stop joking, I start screaming."
Dan nodded. "He's not wrong."
~~~ Temporary Shelter ~~~
They found refuge in a maintenance shed near the edge of campus—small, windowless, and mercifully quiet.
Leina sat by the door, hugging her knees. Her uniform was torn, her face streaked with paint and grime, but her eyes... still bright... refused to dim.
Mike handed her a water bottle. "Here. Drink. You earned it."
"Thanks." She took a sip, then glanced up. "Why help me?"
He smiled faintly. "Because you're still breathing. That's good enough for today."
Kazuma spread his worn map on the floor. "Railway depot's six kilometers east. We move at dusk. Fewer infected."
Leina frowned. "You're… leaving the city?"
"To leave the continent," Dan said quietly.
Her eyes widened. "You're serious?"
Kazuma nodded. "Containment's gone. Infection spreads faster than control. A train gives us distance, mobility, and protection."
Leina blinked. "That's impossible."
Kazuma's voice stayed even. "Impossible is a human rule, not a physical one."
Mike groaned. "Here we go~~ Logic vs Reality, round two."
Dan rubbed his temples. "He's right, though. A moving base increases survival. Stationary means death."
Leina looked between them... the comedian, the tyrant, the wanna be philosopher... and something in her expression hardened. "Then I'm coming with you."
Kazuma studied her. "Can you keep up?"
She stood, shaky but determined. "Try me."
Mike grinned. "Alright then. Team Trainwreck it is."
Dan sighed. "Don't name the team."
"Too late," Mike said, extending a hand to Leina. "Welcome aboard."
She hesitated, then smiled and took it.
Outside, wind carried the echo of distant sirens, a few gunshots, and the hollow moan of the infected drifting through London's streets.
The city was collapsing.