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Chapter 8 - Chapter 8

I didn't notice I was awake at first. The air felt still cold.

My back ached from the couch underneath me, some rough, lumpy thing that smelled like mildew and old smoke. I blinked slowly and rubbed my eyes, trying to figure out where I was.

The walls were bare, unfinished brick, and the ceiling above me was stained.

A slow draft passed through the open holes in the wall where windows probably used to be.

No glass, just rectangular gaps framing trees outside. Pine or cedar maybe.

I wasn't sure.

I sat up, head heavy, and looked around the room. Everything was faded, damp, like time had passed here without permission.

My mind was still swimming, like someone had pressed the pause button on everything and now it was trying to catch up.

Where was that girl?

The one who found me or dragged me or maybe saved me. I wasn't sure anymore.

I checked myself, slightly panicked, but I was still fully clothed. My throat was dry, scratchy when I swallowed.

I stood slowly, the floor under my socks cold and gritty with dust. I couldn't remember falling asleep.

Then I remember, the accident, my parents, the blood. Those things that weren't human anymore. Cannibals or something worse.

I glanced at the holes in the walls again, squinting into the trees. A few scattered houses stood in the distance, rotting and quiet. No signs of life. Or maybe too much of it in the wrong way.

I didn't hear her at first. Just the soft sound of footsteps, the kind you only notice once they've already gotten too close.

I turned quickly, tense, ready to run or fight or something in between.

It was her.

Same clothes, she was standing just a few feet away, a cigarette dangling from her fingers like it was part of her.

Smoke curled around her face. Her eyes were sharper in the light now, but unreadable.

She didn't say anything. Just stood there, watching me like I was a stray animal that might bite.

I raised a hand to my nose. "Stop smoking."

She raised an eyebrow slightly. "You want my attention that badly?"

I frowned. "It smells awful."

I didn't even think. I stepped forward, took the cigarette from her hand and dropped it on the ground, crushing it under my shoe.

She didn't move. Just let out a soft sigh through her nose, not angry, just mildly disappointed like I had ruined the mood.

"Fine," she said, not even bothering to hide how little she cared. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, eyes still on me like she was waiting for me to finish whatever tantrum I was having.

"Where are we?" I asked, glancing around. "Is this your place?"

"Not really," she said, giving the room a slow glance. "Just a leftover shell."

"Mizuki," she said.

I looked at her. "Just Mizuki?"

"That's right."

"No family name?"

She tilted her head, a faint smirk forming. "Why do you need it?"

"I don't know, it's polite?"

"Polite," she repeated. "The world doesn't run on polite anymore."

I let out a soft breath and turned toward the trees. They were swaying slightly, but the air still felt too still. "I need to find my parents. I don't have time for this."

"Maybe," she said, almost to herself. "But you're safer with me."

That stopped me for a second.

"You don't even know me," I said.

"Neither do you."

She took a step forward, just one, then reached out and grabbed my wrist before I could move away. Her grip was strong stronger than I expected and my skin burned a little where her fingers touched.

"You're kind of rude," she said, voice low.

I pulled my arm back, tense. "I'm thirsty."

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I said I'm thirsty."

She stared at me for a second, then let go with a sigh and walked to the far corner. There was a dusty shelf with a couple bottles stacked on it. She picked one up, turned, and set it on a metal table near me.

"There."

I didn't move right away. I glanced at the bottle. It was sealed.

Still, a flicker of doubt hit me.

I opened the bottle, took a sip. Cold and clean water. It felt like gold.

I kept drinking until I couldn't anymore. It felt like I hadn't tasted real water in weeks. I set the bottle down and looked at her again. She was watching me. Still arms crossed, still leaning against the wall, that same tiny smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"What?" I asked, more defensive than I meant to be.

"You act like I poisoned it."

I froze slightly. "You didn't?"

She blinked, actually looking offended now. "You saw the seal."

"I wasn't sure," I said quietly.

Without a word, she turned and walked into the side room. A few moments passed. When she returned, she dropped a box in front of me with a loud thud. Bottles, sealed, clean. Maybe fifteen of them.

"My ex worked in freight," she said. "We had a stash. Most of it's gone now."

I stared down at the box, then back up at her. "I'm sorry," I murmured. "I misjudged you."

She shrugged, brushing hair from her face. "Don't apologize. Just be less stupid."

There wasn't really a way to respond to that. I stood there with the half-empty bottle in my hand and the weight of everything I didn't know pressing down on my shoulders.

"I thought you might be one of them," I admitted. "The ones who changed."

She gave me a long look, then said, quietly, "I'm not."

I believed her. I wasn't sure why.

She turned back toward the window, resting her arms on the frame.

Outside, I could hear distant howling. Not wolves, not people, either.

"They're still out there, aren't they?" I asked.

"Yes."

"And you're sure I'm safer with you?"

She turned her head just enough to look at me from the corner of her eye.

"No," she said. "But you'll last longer."

"Are you hungry?" I asked, though I already knew her answer.

"No," she said eventually. "Not really."

Then, after a breath, she glanced at me. "What about you?"

"I haven't," I admitted. "But... it doesn't matter right now."

"Starving doesn't matter. Dying doesn't matter. Nothing matters unless it's happening to someone you love, right?"

I didn't answer that.

"I need to find my parents," I said. "I keep thinking maybe they're still alive. Maybe they found somewhere safe. I won't know unless I try."

"You keep saying that like the world is still a place where people wait to be found."

Her words stung.

"I know how it sounds."

"No, you don't," she said. "If you did, you wouldn't keep trying to talk like everything can be fixed. Like you can walk back into your old life if you just push hard enough."

I stepped toward the door, toward the gray light outside. The wind was sharper now, the kind that cut through clothes and memories. I didn't know what I expected out there. Ruins? Answers?

Then she said something else.

"If they're infected…" Her voice trailed for a second before picking up again, more steady.

"If they've changed, are you ready for that? Can you even picture it?"

I froze. My chest tightened. I'm certain my parents are hiding somewhere.

I turned slowly. "They're not infected."

She looked back at me, expression unreadable. "And if they are?"

"They're not," I said again, firmer this time. But even I could hear the shake in my voice.

"It's not even infection," I went on quickly.

"They're not zombies. Whatever this is… it's not like those movies."

She didn't laugh. "So what is it, then?"

"I don't know. But they wouldn't, my parents wouldn't just…"

I stopped myself.

"You're hanging everything on hope," she said. "You realize that, right? Like a kid who won't accept the house is already on fire."

I turned sharply. "Then why bring me here? Why not leave me there if I'm such a lost cause?"

"Because you fainted," she said, flatly. "And I don't leave people unconscious in places where things tear through flesh like it's nothing. That's all."

I fainted?!

"You didn't have to do that," I said. "You didn't owe me anything."

"No," she said, taking out another cigarette. "I didn't."

She lit it and inhaled slowly. "But you looked like someone who still had a reason to keep going. That's rare now. I figured I'd give you a shot."

We stood in silence for a while, the smoke curling in the cold air between us.

"I still don't trust you," I said eventually.

"Good," she said. "You shouldn't."

I looked at her again. Her eyes were focused out the window, sharp and distant, like she was watching for something she'd seen before. Maybe she was.

"But I don't want to be alone," I admitted.

For a second, I thought she might say something cruel. But she didn't.

"No one does. That's how it starts."

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