It didn't take even ten minutes for them to get ready. Alex was already set, and the girls, having packed their backpacks full of essentials, emerged wearing hiking boots, cargo pants, and layers—looking almost like they were going for a weekend hike, not fleeing an apocalypse.
Alex gave an approving look. "Good. Practical." His gaze settled on Alice. "The ankle?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit worried.
Alice stood, putting weight on it. She winced, but demonstrated she could walk without a limp. "It's okay. Tender, but I can walk. I... I don't think I can run, though."
Behind her, Mina smiled, a quick, tiny expression. Perfect. It was like her master plan was being kicked into motion by fate itself.
Alex just nodded, his face serious. "Okay. I'll try to avoid the need to run." He then went over the plan. "We'll use the rear exit. That alley takes us to 109th. We stick to the side streets, cross Broadway at the 112th street laundromat—that's our first rest point. From there, we check the street and move to the bookstore on 115th. That's the second checkpoint. After that, it's a straight shot to my block. It'll take about an hour if we're smart. Stay quiet, stay alert."
He finished and looked at them. "Ready?"
To which the sisters, their faces set, both nodded.
"Okay. Follow me."
Alex opened the door, and they began their way down.
They made it to the rear exit, through the alley, and to their first resting point at the laundromat without much trouble. The city was eerily quiet. But as they were moving from 112th, about to cross Amsterdam Avenue to get to their second checkpoint, they met them.
Three men, their looks not exactly inspiring good vibes, were just exiting a smashed-in supermarket, their arms full of stolen supplies—duffel bags, cases of beer. To their bad luck, the men looked up and noticed them instantly.
Alex, without any change in his body or face, just continued on his way, trying to bypass them without any trouble, giving them a wide berth. Alice tried to mimic him, her head down.
But Mina froze.
She caught a glimpse of them, and her head bowed down, her whole body just... stopping. She was shaking a little.
Alice, who was a step ahead, noticed it first. "Mina?" she whispered worriedly. "What's wrong?"
The already "interested" men, who were grinning, heard her. Their grins faltered, and a flicker of a different, more dangerous emotion entered their eyes as they locked on to the source of the angelic voice.
Alex glanced back at Mina, then at Alice, then at the men who had now stopped and were starting to approach. He didn't miss the open greed and lust in their eyes. He quickly walked back, planting himself between the sisters and the men.
Alice looked up as the shadow fell over her. She saw Alex's back, and over his shoulder, she saw the three men approaching. She saw the look in their eyes—the same look from the dorm room—and she shivered.
Only a few steps apart, the three men stopped. The one in the middle, probably their leader, smiled. His voice was disgustingly normal. "How good to see other survivors like ourself. It must have been hard on you."
Alex said in a neutral voice, "It was indeed hard, but we managed." He put a hand on Mina's shoulder, trying to nudge the sisters to start walking away. "Now, if you'll excuse us..."
"Now, now, little brother," the leader said, stepping to block their path. "Don't be so hasty. We're not bad guys. Look," he gestured to his stolen goods, "we even have a lot of food on us. We can share it with you. And seeing how well-equipped you all are, you must be quite capable. Why not join us? We have a shelter not far from here. About... 4 blocks that way."
Hearing this, Mina twitched visibly. This small, terrified reaction seemed to fuel the three men's desire considerably. The other two joined in.
"Yeah, man! We have enough room! And plenty of food to share!"
Alex's voice didn't change. "I appreciate the thought, but we have our own plans and wouldn't want to trouble you."
One of the thugs, a big man with a shaved head, was already at his wit's end. "I've had enough of this shit!" he burst out. "Why won't you just come with us quietly? And what's with this guy? Glaring at us, speaking so informally, when we're offering 'help and care'?"
He took a menacing step forward, cracking his knuckles. "I've had enough. I'll just kill this guy like the one before and we'll just pull the girls back."
He didn't even finish his sentence as he started to approach Alex boldly.
Alex spoke back to the sisters, his voice low and urgent, "Don't make any loud noise."
Then, outwardly, his whole demeanor changed. He took a half-step back, his hands coming up slightly, his face flashing with visible "panic."
The approaching thug saw it and let out a bark of laughter, emboldened. "Hah! Look at that! Look how quickly the false facade fell. Thinking he's some hero just 'cuz he's 'helping' two beauties."
The thug laughed, his fist raised high, ready to strike down the "panicking" hero.
In the instant his arm began to move, Alex exploded.
He shoved the sisters hard, sending them stumbling back toward the building. "Don't fall!" he hissed. He didn't back away from the punch; he moved inside it, the man's fist whistling harmlessly past his ear. His other hand, which had been hidden by his body, was already in his grip, the Leatherman's blade extended.
In the same fluid motion as his dodge, Alex pivoted. He drove the 3-inch blade sideways, deep into the man's throat, just under the jaw. He twisted his wrist viciously, severing the carotid artery, and pulled the knife out clean.
It happened so fast, Alice and Mina had barely stumbled back. The thug just stood there, his eyes wide with profound disbelief. He grabbed his neck, a gurgling, choking sound replacing his laugh, and collapsed in a heap, clutching his throat.
Alice flinched hard, her hand flying to her own neck, but she made no sound. Mina was different. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened, a high-pitched, hysterical scream building. Before it could escape, Alice reacted. She yanked Mina into her, clamping a hand hard over her sister's mouth and hugging her tight. "Shh, Mina, shh, don't," she whispered, her own body trembling.
The two remaining thugs froze for a single second, shocked. Then, their faces contorted with rage. "You little bastard! You killed him!"
They charged at Alex, no more words, just lethal intent.
Alex met the first one—the shaved-head man who'd been so eager. The man threw a wild, telegraphed haymaker. Alex didn't try to block it; he parried, redirecting the man's arm. He used the man's own momentum to spin him, and in the same motion, drove his heel back in a mule kick, shattering the man's kneecap.
The man howled—a high, agonized sound that echoed off the buildings—and went down, clutching his ruined leg. He was immobilized.
The third man, the leader, was smarter. He'd seen Alex move. He didn't rush in. He pulled a nasty-looking switchblade from his pocket, the click loud in the sudden quiet. "I'm gonna gut you, you little shit."
This made it harder. Alex still had his small Leatherman, but the leader had reach. The leader lunged, a low stab. Alex sidestepped, the blade just grazing his shirt. It was a quick, ugly brawl. The leader feinted high, then slashed low. Alex was forced to jump back, the blade opening a shallow cut on his forearm.
No time, Alex thought. The howl from the other man was a dinner bell.
The leader lunged again. This time, Alex didn't dodge. He moved in, blocking the man's knife-arm with his own forearm, absorbing the cut. He winced, but he had the man's wrist. He twisted it, hard, breaking the grip. The knife clattered to the pavement. Before the man could recover from the pain, Alex was behind him, his other arm snaking around his neck, sinking in a deep, textbook rear-naked choke.
The leader struggled, clawing at Alex's arm, but Alex just locked his grip, his face a grim mask. The man's struggles weakened. After ten agonizing seconds, he went limp. Alex held it for another five, making sure, before dropping the body.
Gasping for breath, his forearm bleeding, Alex turned. The second thug was still on the ground, clutching his shattered leg. When he saw Alex approaching, his rage turned to pure terror.
"Wait! Please! God, mercy! I... I'm sorry, man! Don't! Please!"
Alex didn't even answer. He walked up, drove his knife into the man's temple, and pulled it free.
He was covered in blood. He turned to the sisters. They were still huddled by the wall, staring at him. Their expressions weren't just fear; it was a complex, terrifying awe. He had just dismantled three armed men in less than thirty seconds.
He jogged over, his urgency cutting through their shock, and knelt in front of them. "Are you okay?"
They both just nodded weakly, their eyes huge.
He looked at Mina. She was staring at the bodies, her face pale, lost in her shock. He grabbed her. "Mina."
She just stared.
He placed both of his hands on her cheeks, his grip firm, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Mina, listen to me. We have to run. Right now. That shout, the blood... it will have zombies flocking here from a mile away. So." He gave her a gentle shake. "Can. You. Run?"
Mina's eyes cleared a bit. The fog of terror receded, replaced by a sharp, resolute understanding. She nodded, her voice firm. "I can."
The tension in Alex's face eased. He smiled, a quick, grim flash. "Good." He ruffled her hair.
He immediately turned to Alice, kneeling down and offering his back. "Get on. We have to run. Your ankle won't make it."
Alice didn't hesitate. "Okay." She scrambled onto his back, clutching him like her life depended on it.
It took no more than a few seconds, but it was already too late. The first of the infected, drawn by the man's howl, were rounding the corner of the street.
"Hold on!" Alex grunted, adjusting Alice's weight. He took off, sprinting down the street, away from the carnage. "Mina, stay close! Right behind me!"
He didn't run to the second checkpoint; he ran past it. He didn't even slow down. His only goal was the abandoned clothing store three blocks from his flat.
He was a man possessed, his lungs on fire, Alice's weight a burning, heavy load. Mina was a shadow at his heels, her breath coming in ragged sobs, but she was keeping up. Behind them, the sounds of the horde they'd drawn were a rising tide of groans and shrieks.
He skidded around the final corner, saw the store's smashed-out front, and didn't break stride. He ran straight through the glass-littered entrance, past the toppled, naked mannequins, and into the back, finally stopping in the dark, windowless stockroom.
He checked it—clear.
Only then did he let out a ragged, gasping breath that sounded more like a sob. He gently placed Alice down on a pile of boxes, his own legs shaking.
"Okay... okay... we're..." he panted, but he didn't have time to rest. The sleeve of his borrowed shirt was soaked. Blood dripped steadily from his forearm onto the concrete.
"Alex, your arm..." Alice said, her voice trembling.
"It's a beacon," he grunted, already moving. He ripped the bloody t-shirt off, tossing it into the far corner of the room. He didn't want to be half-naked, but the smell...
He grabbed his backpack, pulled out the first-aid kit, and fumbled for the disinfectant and the bandage roll. "Damn it..." he hissed. The cut was deeper than he'd thought. He tried to wrap the bandage with his non-dominant hand, his fingers clumsy with haste and adrenaline. The roll slipped, unspooling onto the floor.
"Stop." Alice, wincing, had crawled over. "You're making it worse. Let me."
She took the disinfectant from him and, without flinching, poured it directly onto the wound. He gritted his teeth, a sharp hiss escaping, but he didn't pull away. She then took the bandage. Her hands were steady. She wrapped it, tight and secure, pulling it with a professional efficiency that surprised him. She finished, tying the ends of the gauze in a tight, double-knotted bow.
Alex checked it. It was solid. He looked at the little bow, then at her. He just nodded. He picked up the bloody t-shirt, grimaced, but put it back on, not wanting to leave a trail.
"Are you... alright?"
It was Mina. She had been silent in the corner, but her eyes were fixed on his bandaged arm.
Alex glanced up, waving his arm, testing the bandage. "It's okay," he said dismissively, packing his bag. "Just a surface wound." He stood, his voice all business again. "We have to leave. Now. My blood is all over this place. It'll be here in minutes."
They left, not with the frantic sprint of before, but with a quiet, fast-paced urgency. The streets were quieter here, closer to his building.
Without further trouble, they reached it. The lobby was similar to Alice's. Eerily quiet, a few old bloodstains, a single, still body by the mailboxes. They took the stairs.
They reached his floor. Door 12B. He pulled the keys from his pocket—the ones he'd thrown to Mark—and slid his own key into the top lock.
It didn't go in.
He tried again. It wouldn't enter the hole. Barricaded.
Alex clicked his tongue, not in fear, but in annoyance. He'd have to make noise. He knocked, a sharp, rhythmic knock.
"Mark? Jenna?" he called, his voice low but clear. "It's me. Open it."
A frantic sound of movement, like a heavy piece of furniture being dragged, came from the inside. The numerous deadbolts were thrown, one after another, in a rapid, metallic sh-clack-clack.
The door was yanked open, revealing the pale, terrified, and profoundly relieved faces of Mark and Jenna.