[This is a side story taking place simultaneously with the main story. It does not affect or resolve the fates of the main characters in Volume 3.]
***
[Boss Vitcha – Bangkok Streets to Riverbank – 1:05 p.m.]
The city is now a graveyard with thick air and ash and moans that never stop. My gun is still warm in my hand and barrel still smoking from the last headshot.
Behind me Jay's camera shakes like he's filming a music video instead of the end of the world. Like seriously? Jane's phone is still rolling, her pink hair plastered to her forehead with sweat.
"Keep it tight,"
I growl while my eyes sweep the alley's shadows.
Jay and Jane. Two twenty year old fools who think views will save them. I also don't understand why they keep calling me "MOTHER" every five seconds.
I'm not their mother.
I'm not anyone's mother.
I just saw two kids alone in a dying city who were stupid enough to stand still with a camera while zombies closed in. I was fighting for my life that day same as always. I could've walked away but I didn't, why didn't I? Whatever I did in past now they're mine to keep breathing.
Irritating, loud, and reckless but mine.
"Class Z: Can You Survive?" Jane whispers to her lens again with shaky voice but still trying to sound fierce.
I don't care about their vlog one bit.
I care about their pulse though.
And suddenly a zombie lunges and I fire—pop— and it's head gone.
[1:10 p.m.]
The alley spits us into a wider street with flipped cars like toys in a toddlers room, blood is smeared across hoods and zombies are shambling in every direction.
Jay films everything, he's stupid but brave, catching a Screaming zombie wailing as it charges straight at us. Ishove him behind a bus, Jane ducking with him.
"Stay low," I snap, my gun already raised.
It only took two shots for Screaming one to drop, and it's throat silenced in mid-cry. Jane's eyes are wide, but she still keeps filming, muttering under her breath, "Can you survive this?" I'm so done with this two.
Jay's usual grin is gone and replaced by sweat and wide-eyed fear.
Good.
Fear keeps you alive, that's what I was taught.
Moans swell with more zombies more coming, I can see a horde forming at the end of the block.
The millitary camp is too far and I can't go there anyway and this city's too hot. River is the best closest option for time being.
Water.
Shelter.
I grab Jane's arm for pulling her up.
"Run."
[1:15 p.m.]
We sprint while our boots pound the pavement and zombies trail like a rising tide. Jay's camera bounces wildly, catching flames in the distance, bodies slumped against walls, my gun flashing again—pop, pop—two zombies drop.
"Boss, your left!" Jane yells, her phone still steady somehow. She's really has some talent or she might just be lucky. I spin, fire and a zombie's knee explodes then it crawls after us. No time to finish it. The river glints ahead through the trees, banks thick with undergrowth and a concrete shed half-hidden in the mud.
That's finnally a Shelter.
I shove Jay and Jane toward it while my gun covers the rear.
" Go inside, now!"
A zombie grabs my jacket; I slam my elbow into its face cracking it's skull and it falls. Jane's voice shakes behind me: "Class Z, fam, we're not done!"
I don't look back.
Just run.
[1:20 p.m.]
The shed is rusted with a hanging door on one hinge, but the walls are solid concrete so it works. I kick it open, gun first because of safety reasons. It's empty inside but it smells of damp rot and old oil.
Jay and Jane stumble in after me, panting, camera and phone still rolling. OMG i can't with them anymore.
" Its safe here,"
I mutter with low voice , already dragging a heavy crate to barricade the door. Moans thud outside, claws scraping metal, but the walls can hold.
Jay slumps against the wall, camera FINALLY lowering.
"Boss, that was…"
"Alive," I cut him off, checking my clip. Enough for now.
Jane's phone screen glows in the dim light, her whisper fierce: "Can You Survive? We just did. But we never know when someone gonna drop dead." She doesn't know that it's a death flag.
I glance out a cracked window and see the calm river with thick trees, and zombies thinning as they lose the scent well if they can smell us. I'm pretty sure Humans have worse scent.
For now we are breathing and that's enough.
[1:25 p.m.]
The shed is quiet except for our breathing and the soft lap of the river outside. Jay's camera is off for the first time in hours and Jane's phone down to 18% battery, but her eyes still burn with that stubborn fire. I'm in relief for now
"Class Z," she says, softer now.
"We're in it."
I still don't know what is this "Class Z," I can guess Z stands for zombies but "Class"?
I nod once while cleaning blood from my gun with a rag torn from a dead man's shirt earlier today. Bangkok's dead, but we're not.
Atleast not yet.
I've run crews, dodged knives, built a name in shadows most people never see.
This is worse.
But I've got them, my twenty year old fools who chase likes in hell.
They irritate me.
They slow me down.
They make noise when silence is life.
And still I didn't leave them behind.
I have grown fond of them.
We hear a noise outside of a twig snapping, it's not zombie shuffle. I raise a hand and silence them instantly. My gun ready as I creep to the window with sharp eyes. It's a riverbank and something is moving.
[1:30 p.m.]
We can see a girl by the water, half-hidden in the reeds. She's young, maybe sixteen, covered in blood, her hair matted with dirt and gore and she's wearing a school uniform.
An axe is in her hand and her grip is steady, her stance is balanced like she's ready to swing at anything that breathes. She's alone, staring at the river and zombies are nowhere near her. Something is wrong. They should be swarming on her.
Jay whispers, "Boss…"
Jane's phone tilts up, catching her in frame.
I don't move, my gun lowered but finger near the trigger while watching her. My guy says she's no ordinary survivor. Blood is dripping from her axe, from her clothes, but she's calm. Too calm.
My gut twists.
Who is she?
What is she doing here?
Why are zombies not attacking her?
Is she bitten?
I can sense some sort of danger from her.
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