"Damn it the road's blocked again. Another pileup. The pickup's too big to squeeze through."
By the expressway interchange, Haruno slapped the steering wheel, fuming, then shot a look at Sosuke Kitahara. He unfolded a paper map, traced a route with his finger, and said, "We're on the right track. Once we get past the airport the roads branch out everywhere. If we skirt this mess, we can hit the expressway straight to Yamanashi."
Haruno hesitated, worry creasing her brow. "You really want to get on the expressway? What if it's crawling with zombies?"
"I've thought about that," Kitahara said, rubbing his chin. He drew a bold red line on the map. "This is the shortest, straightest route. Other roads are worse. The fences on both sides should keep most zombies off the highway. You only see big numbers where there were massive traffic jams. We'll scout ahead with binoculars if a section looks bad, we'll decide from a distance whether to push through."
He tapped the map again. "This stretch we walk. Still safer and shorter than the alternatives. My only concern is congestion at the on-ramps. But if we make it past the toll booths, the expressway's basically a natural anti-zombie barrier."
"Who said we have to walk? Look what I found!"
Utaha Kasumigaoka came rolling up, grinning ear to ear, ringing the bell on a bicycle. Kitahara gave her a thumbs-up. "Perfect for this leg. But one bike won't cut it we'll need at least two…"
Within minutes they'd scavenged two more from an SUV, helmets and all the owner had clearly been a cycling nut. Three bikes for four riders: Kitahara doubled with Utaha, while the Yukinoshita sisters each took one.
Kitahara offered to pedal despite his condition; Utaha flatly refused. He said he felt better she didn't care.
They set off at an easy pace.
"Ha! Two weeks ago if we pedaled along the airport expressway like this, the cops would've swarmed us. We'd probably have spent a few days in detention." Kitahara wrapped an arm around Utaha's waist from the back seat. The wide lanes were dotted with crash sites. Charred corpses fused to seats. Bodies wedged in mangled frames. A few lucky zombies sometimes stumbled free Haruno and Yukino handled those with blades; no gunfire needed.
When numbers swelled, Utaha waded in. All three women had bled their way through the apocalypse by Kitahara's side; dismembering walkers was second nature now. He found himself thinking that, with a stable base, these three could train new recruits.
Of the trio, Utaha was pulling ahead. She'd practiced the breathing method the longest; the virus in her system had… shifted. Her marksmanship sixth sense was waking. If this kept up, she'd be the first of them to fully Awaken.
Yukino, though, was the surprise her blade work had grown viciously efficient. Gone was the serene service-club honor student. Like her sister, she left herself no retreat: every swing was full power; blood on her clothes didn't even register. Heel on a skull, wrench the blade free, pivot, and charge the next target.
By the time they rejoined the expressway, the sky had turned strange like it was smoldering. The clouds weren't storm-black; they were smeared and dirty, as if stuffed with grit. A seasoned eye would call it what it was: the leading edge of a windstorm.
They picked up speed. The wind keened louder and louder. Driving would've been faster if the highway hadn't become an obstacle course. Every kilometer or two, another wreck turned the road into a maze. A car would have trapped them for hours; bikes let them shoulder through and keep moving.
They paused at a red BMW X6 sitting almost pristine on the shoulder. Kitahara knifed down a nearby zombie and peered in. Only one body: a woman in a long dress curled in the back seat. Fast-food wrappers and human waste carpeted the floor. The smell seeped through the glass.
"God… did she starve to death in there?" Yukino tapped on the window with her machete no response. She tried the door; locked tight. Utaha's brow arched, and a thought struck her. She circled to the rear and smashed the back window with a chop.
"What are you two doing?" Kitahara asked. "There's nothing edible left. Try those vans ahead. Better odds."
"I'm not hunting food," Utaha said, levering the hatch and dispatching the walker inside. "A woman who dresses this well takes care of her skin. It's almost winter lip balm and face cream are essentials."
Haruno laughed. "Set one aside for me. And, Kitahara grab a lip balm. In winter the wind splits your lips open like torn skin. Hurts like hell, bleeds if it's bad."
Kitahara sighed and waited while they pillaged the trunk. Tablets. Cash. Jewelry. Designer bags. An army of cosmetics. Once priceless; now road trash.
"Feels like she was moving house," he muttered. "No food. Just valuables."
"Who predicts the end of the world?" Haruno murmured, kneeling to pick through bottles. But every container was bone-dry even toner and perfume. Not leaks she'd drunk them. Maybe even her own urine. Starvation, or poisoning by cosmetics that seemed the likelier end.
"Hey, nice lighter. Gold-plated." Yukino flicked a vintage oil lighter; a steady flame rose. Before she could snap it shut, a pair of huge black eyes appeared above the seat back, staring right at her. She shrieked, pointing. "Back off there's still a zombie inside!"
Utaha jumped and yanked her blade until Kitahara caught her wrist. "Easy. She's alive."
"Ah?" Utaha blinked.
A woman's voice burst out, hoarse with fear. "Don't kill me! Please don't! I'm not a monster I'm human! I'm human!"
"Well I'll be," Haruno said, lowering her pistol. The woman, hair matted, had a striking face under the grime. Haruno beckoned. "Come down. We'll need to check you for bites."
"O-okay! Check me, please check me." She unlatched the door with trembling fingers. A pale, slender leg groped for the pavement; she nearly pitched forward, hanging onto the frame by sheer panic. "I… I wasn't bitten. Really."
When Kitahara turned away, she tugged off a light yellow bolero, revealing a strappy summer dress underdressed, underfed, and barely standing. "S-sorry. I've been trapped in the car forever. C-could I have something to eat? I'm… so hungry."
Utaha handed her bread. The woman collapsed to the ground, tore the wrapper, and wolfed it down, manners forgotten. She wore no underwear; the floral skirt was crusted stiff. She gulped from the water Yukino passed her like a beggar at a temple gate.
"All right," Utaha said, tipping her head. "Introduce yourself. Name?"
"Me?" She swallowed hard. "Kitada Mitsue. I'm… I was an idol. Please take me with you. I've been alone for days I can't survive out there."
"An idol?" Utaha traded a look with the sisters. None of them cared much about celebrity gossip. If she was legit, her fans would never want to see her like this.
Five set out again Kitada on her own bike; no one volunteered to share with someone that filthy.
"You were in the car half a month?" Kitahara asked, eyeing her wobbly pedaling.
She forced a smile, then shook her head. "No. I escaped from the airport. They locked it down pushed all passengers out. My boyfriend worked tower control, so the soldiers gave me a tent. Then the virus broke loose inside. People turned and attacked. Two soldiers dragged me out… they… they were bitten protecting me."
"Lucky you," Kitahara said dryly. Even fully armed soldiers hadn't made it yet she drove off alone. He didn't press. He didn't need to.
"Storm's coming we need shelter!" he shouted ten minutes later.
Goggles on, scarves up, they still couldn't keep the grit from stinging exposed skin. The headwind slapped at them like a wall; they abandoned the bikes and dragged them forward. Far off, even zombies staggered, bowled sideways by gusts.
"Not much here," Haruno said, scanning with binoculars. "Just forest and construction sites. Those shacks won't stand up to this."
"There a coach bus. Go!" Kitahara pointed to a gray-white bus skewed across lanes three hundred meters ahead. The wind was a living thing now, screaming over the bare expressway. They stopped caring about noise discipline. Anything in the way got a bullet.
"Kitahara look! It's a tornado!" Yukino's scream cracked.
A towering funnel pierced the clouds, dragging a curtain of dust behind it like a moving mountain. Kitahara had never seen one in person; now he felt the scale in his bones. Buildings, trees, anything unlucky enough to lie in its path ripped up and shredded into dust. Zombies lifted like confetti, specks spiraling helplessly into the sky.
"Bus! Inside, now!"
They sprinted then skidded to a halt. Utaha peered through the blood-smeared glass. "No! It's full thirty at least!"
"Wait. Don't shoot." Kitahara knelt, yanked open a baggage hatch. Suitcases packed the compartment tight. He heaved them out, shouting, "Clear it! Everyone into the luggage bay!"
They flung more than twenty cases onto the asphalt. Kitahara shoved the four women inside Haruno paused, grimacing. "We need padding! If this thing goes airborne, we'll die on impact!"
"Son of "
Kitahara ripped open suitcases, tossing anything soft into the compartment jackets, quilts, pillows. The wind hit with a new, murderous force. Even the bus rocked on its suspension.
Bang
He slammed the hatch. Darkness fell. The outside world vanished, but the hail of grit and pebbles drummed on the bodywork like a thousand tiny hammers.
No one spoke. Their breathing grew loud in the cramped dark. Overhead, feet pounded zombies in a panic. Even they felt the terror that rolled with the tornado.
Fwoof.
Utaha flicked her lighter. A trembling flame licked at the gloom, painting every face with fear. Kitahara kept his voice level. "Don't panic. This bus won't come apart. Protect your heads. It'll pass. Hold on."
The flame snuffed. The breathing turned ragged again. None of them had ever felt a twister before only seen it on screens. If reality matched even half the movie myths, their odds were thin.
The bus began to heave like a ship at sea.
A warm, shaking body collapsed into Kitahara's arms, hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe. He held her, soothing by instinct then realized it wasn't Utaha. The soft breath, the feel against his chest Yukino.
"Don't be afraid," he murmured, drawing her close. "We've made it this far. We'll live through this, too."
"I studied abroad in the States," she whispered, curling into him. "I saw a tornado once real one. It ripped houses apart. I saw it."
Her fear came from memory. She pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "I've escaped death so many times. I don't know if I will again. But whether I die here or not, I want you to know meeting you was… the luckiest thing. Without you… I don't know what I would've become."
"Enough with the sweet talk," he said softly. "You'd have found someone even if it wasn't me. You're not that easy to kill."
She shook her head, lifted her face delicate features, lashes trembling, eyes luminous even in the dark. "I'm serious."
He met her gaze and nodded. "Then so am I. Meeting you… was my luck."
Her panic eased. She lay against him, shy smile warming the dark. After a moment, she slid higher, breath tickling his ear. "Sosuke… can I stay with you? From now on?"
"Of course," he said. "For as long as you want."
Her fingers pinched his waist hard. "Idiot. You know what I mean." Courage like glass; she wouldn't let him dodge it.
He paused, a tenderness passing through his eyes. "Honestly? I decided a while ago. I'm going to claim you for life."
"Then I'll let you," she murmured, cheeks burning, heat spreading to the tips of her ears.
Another hand groped for his neck, brushing Yukino's cheek and froze. Utaha's voice came cool and flat. "And what are you two whispering about?"
"Nothing. Come here." Kitahara caught her wrist and pulled her in, a little rough. Utaha resisted for a heartbeat, then yielded and, with childish pettiness, hugged him tight enough to edge Yukino out of his chest.
Eeeeee
The bus tilted with a tortured creak. Kitada Mitsue screamed first. Before Kitahara could shout her down, the entire coach shuddered then rolled with a thunderous crash.
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