A gray, lifeless light filtered through the curtains. Alex's eyes opened. The first sensation was a deep, painful stiffness that shot from his neck down to his lower back. The dorm couch was, predictably, a terrible bed.
The second sensation was silence.
A heavy, dead quiet. The constant, distant screaming of the night before had tapered off. It was a silence that felt more dangerous than the noise.
He sat up, wincing as his spine popped. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was alive. Alice was alive. Good.
After a quick, quiet trip to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, he felt human again. He walked to the bedroom door and knocked lightly, keeping the sound low. "Alice?"
No answer.
He knocked again, a fraction louder, but still cautious. "Alice, time to wake up."
Still nothing. A brief flash of unease. He tried the knob. It was unlocked.
He opened the door a crack, peeking in. "Hey, you awake?"
Alex paused. The room was dim. Alice was completely sprawled out on the small twin bed, lying diagonally. One arm was hanging limply over the side, her fingers brushing the carpet. Her hair was a wild, tangled halo on the pillow, and the blankets were hopelessly kicked into a bundle at her feet.
Alex stared for a beat, a small, involuntary smile touching his lips. He'd half-expected to find her sleeping gracefully, in a refined, picture-perfect manner, like some young lady from a TV show. This was... significantly more human.
He shook his head, the amusement fading. They were burning daylight. He approached the bed slowly. "Alice. You need to wake up. We have to go."
The only response was a low, unhappy grunt. She turned over, away from him, and pulled the single, dislodged pillow over her head, burrowing into the mattress.
Alex's eye twitched. After everything they'd seen, after the horrors of last night, she was going to be that person. The contrast was so absurd, he didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed.
He wasn't going to shout—that was too much noise. He wasn't going to shake her—that felt... wrong. So, he adapted.
He half-knelt beside the bed, his mouth not far from the pillow she was hiding under. "Alice," he said, his voice low but urgent. "You should wake up soon. You're going to be late for your exam."
The reaction was instantaneous.
Alice shot bolt upright, a strangled, sleepy "Wha-?!" on her lips. She was suddenly sitting, her hair a mess, her eyes wide with sleep-fogged panic. "The exam? Dr. Petrov's... I... what time...?"
Her eyes finally focused on Alex, who was still kneeling, his expression perfectly neutral. Her sleep-clouded mind cleared. She saw the unfamiliar room. She remembered the blood. The bodies. The cup noodles.
There was no exam.
Her cheeks puffed out in a look of pure, childlike indignation. "You-!"
She grabbed the pillow she'd just thrown off and, with a huff of deep dissatisfaction, hurled it directly at his head.
Alex ducked it easily, the pillow thumping harmlessly against the wall behind him. He stood up, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay. You're awake."
He backed away toward the door. "Get ready. Get your things. We have to leave soon."
It didn't take long for Alice to get ready. The "dinner" had been meager, and "breakfast" was even worse—the last of Alex's protein bars, split between them, and a few swigs of tap water. It was a grim, silent meal.
Alex moved the heavy desk from the door, his movements slow, steady, and perfectly silent. He pressed his eye to the peephole. The 4th-floor hallway was still and dark, save for the three bodies he'd left by the stairwell. He couldn't see any movement.
He turned back to Alice. His "morning" self was gone, replaced by the cold, focused strategist.
"Okay," he said, his voice low. "Listen to me, and listen once. Out there, you do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. If I say run, you run. You don't ask where. If I say 'get down,' you drop. If I say 'don't breathe,' you hold your breath. No questions. No hesitation. Is that clear?"
The firm, commanding tone left no room for argument. Alice, her backpack on, just nodded, her face pale but set.
"Good. Stay three steps behind me. Watch where I put my feet."
He opened the door and they slipped into the hall. The journey down the stairs was a masterclass in tension. They encountered a few zombies on the lower floors. When it was one, Alex handled it with the same silent, brutal efficiency as the night before. When it was a group, he'd just hold up a hand, listen, and then backtrack, finding another route.
They made it outside. The city was... dead. A few cars sat smoking. Trash blew across an empty Broadway. The only sound was the distant, ever-present wail of sirens and screams.
They were only a block or two away from her building, moving through a small alleyway to stay off the main street, when they heard it.
Shouting. "HELP! PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP US!"
Alex grabbed Alice and pulled her into the alcove of a locked service entrance, flattening them both against the brick. He peered around the corner.
A group of five people, other students, were sprinting down the street. A pack of at least fifteen infected were right behind them, fast and relentless. The one in the back, a girl, stumbled. The group didn't stop. The zombies were on her in a second. Her screams were cut short.
Alice's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. The remaining four were still yelling, looking wildly around.
Alice took a step, her hand half-raised, an involuntary "Hey!" on her lips.
She never made the sound.
Alex moved so fast it was a blur. He slammed her back against the brick wall, his forearm pressing against her collarbone. His other hand clamped hard over her mouth, stifling the sound.
Alice's eyes went wide, this time with fright. His face was inches from hers, and he was both worried and furious.
"Don't," he hissed, his voice a low, angry growl. "Don't you even think about it."
He held her there for a long, agonizing second. He saw the genuine fear of him in her eyes, and his expression softened, just a fraction. The anger drained away, replaced by a cold, hard pragmatism.
He slowly, slowly, pulled his hand from her mouth, but he kept her pinned to the wall.
"We can't," he explained, his voice still a whisper, but calm now. "We cannot recklessly help everyone. We don't know who they are. We don't know if they're good people, bad people, or just plain stupid. We have nothing, Alice."
He tapped his empty backpack. "No food. No water. I'm skeptical about how many resources we'll even find at your place. We are not a rescue team. We are survivors."
Alice stared at him, her breathing ragged. She processed his words. Logically, she understood. He was right. But her heart... it just didn't fit right. It felt wrong to just... watch.
Alex saw it. The doubt. The moral conflict in her eyes. He sighed, a sound of pure exasperation.
"Alice," he said, and his voice went flat. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again... if you ever make a sound, if you ever compromise our position... I will not hesitate. I will leave you. Do you understand? I helped you on a whim. That doesn't make it my responsibility to keep you safe."
That... landed. It grounded her, a bit too much. The fight went out of her. All the hope, all the fire... it just vanished. She slid down the wall, her knees giving out, and sat on the grimy pavement, her head bowed, her eyes downcast.
Alex watched her for a moment, his jaw tight. He let out another heavy breath and sat down a few feet away, his back to the same wall. He closed his eyes, resting, listening to the screams of the dying students fade into the distance.
He thought things through. He'd been too harsh. He knew it. She wasn't like him. She hadn't been living with this for years.
He opened his eyes. She was just... sitting there, small and broken. He felt a pang of guilt.
"Alice," he said, his voice much gentler.
She flinched but didn't look up.
"Look, I... I'm sorry. Maybe I was a bit too harsh. I'm sorry."
He waited until she slowly, hesitantly, looked at him.
"But you have to try to understand me," he continued, his tone earnest. "I have my hands full just trying to keep the two of us safe. We're on a clock. We have nothing. We still have to get to your place, which is a total unknown, and then we have to get to mine. My friends are waiting for me, and I gave them a deadline. I can't... I can't take any more chances. I can't afford it."
Alice was silent for a second, then took the hand he offered. She gave him a smile—not genuine, not forced, but somewhere in the fragile, exhausted middle.
"I understand," she said, her voice quiet. "And... I'm grateful. For all of it."
He just nodded, pulling her to her feet. They continued, the tension from their argument replaced by the shared, silent tension of the dead city.
They were almost there, just a few meters from the large glass main entrance of her high-rise building. "It's just there..." Alice started to say, a hint of relief in her voice.
It happened in a split second. A large, overturned commercial trashcan they were walking past exploded as an infected lunged from it, launching itself directly at Alice.
The sudden, close-quarters attack shattered her composure. Alice screamed—a high, piercing sound of pure terror—and stumbled backward, her feet tangling. She fell hard, a sharp pain lancing up her leg as her ankle twisted beneath her.
Alex turned, the metal pipe he'd salvaged already in his grip. The scream was bad. Loud. It echoed off the buildings, a dinner bell. He could already hear the answering groans and the slap of running feet from down the street. Worse, the zombie that had just tackled her was scrambling on top of her.
Quick, cold thoughts ran through his mind. This is it. This was the "compromise" he'd feared. It was her fault. She screamed. She's injured. She'd be slow. She could serve as a scapegoat. He could run, right now, use her as a distraction. He wouldn't have to detour. He wouldn't have to care for two... two probably not very useful girls.
The thought was there and gone. He hated that it was there. But he didn't want to do that.
Without hesitation, Alex closed the distance. He swung the pipe in a brutal, horizontal arc, smashing it into the side of the zombie's head. The skull caved with a wet thud, and it collapsed on top of her. He yanked the body off, grabbed Alice's arm, and scooped her up from the ground in a single, fluid, adrenaline-fueled motion.
"Hold on tight!" he yelled, as he started to run for the entrance, carrying her.
Still scared, still processing, she did as she was told, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
The horde was rounding the corner. He ran for the entrance. His only option was to get the door open, now, and pray the lobby was clear. He hit the handicapped-access button on the wall—thankfully, the building's auxiliary power was still on—and the heavy glass door slowly swung open.
Thankfully, no immediate threat. He ran inside, put Alice down gently, and immediately ran back to the entrance. He grabbed the heavy, floor-standing metal mailboxes and, with a grunt, pulled them over, toppling them in front of the double doors, creating a crude but effective barricade. The first of the infected slammed against the glass, but the mailboxes held.
He ran past Alice, his pipe raised, checking their surroundings. The lobby was large, marble, and empty... almost.
He heard a wet, scraping sound. One of the elevators had stopped, its doors jammed half-open between floors. An infected was stuck in the gap, its legs severed, trying to crawl towards them with its arms. It couldn't move a single inch.
Alex approached cautiously, saw it was no threat, and stomped on its head, ending it.
He finally jogged back to Alice, who was leaning against the wall, sobbing quietly. His adrenaline was fading. He crouched in front of her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough. "Did it bite you? Scratch you? Anything?"
She shook her head, her voice trembling. "N-no. I don't think so. But my leg... it really hurts."
Alex did a quick, professional check. He ran his hands along her arms, her neck, her back. No surface wounds. He gently probed her left ankle. It was already swelling, but nothing felt broken. "It's swollen. Sprained, probably. But not broken. You're okay."
He had just finished checking her and was about to ask, "Which floor was it again?" when Alice wrapped her hands around him, burying her face in his chest, hugging him tightly.
"I thought..." she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I thought you'd leave me. After what you said... I was so scared."
Alex was surprised, his body tensing for a second. This was... new. Awkward. He hesitantly, then more firmly, started petting her back, trying to soothe her.
"It's okay," he reassured her, his voice softer than he intended. "It's okay. If it's within my capabilities... I won't abandon you."