Daniel didn't realize Aaron was gone at first.
The noise swallowed everything — screams ricocheting off brick, distant explosions cracking through the air like thunder that never rolled away. Glass burst somewhere behind him, sharp enough to make his teeth ache. Smoke crawled low along the street, thick and sour, burning the back of his throat every time he inhaled.
He turned, expecting Aaron at his shoulder.
There was nothing there.
Just empty air.
"Aaron?" he barked, already irritated — already defensive — like the man had stepped away just to prove a point.
No answer.
The realization hit slower than the anger did.
He left.
Daniel felt it in his chest like a punch. Rage came first — hot, immediate, familiar. It had always been that way. Anger before thought. Action before consequence.
Rebecca used to say he ran on gasoline and pride.
Right now, pride tasted like blood in his mouth.
A corpse staggered toward him from the alley mouth, dragging one foot. Its jaw hung crooked, skin split along the cheekbone where something had torn it open earlier. Thick black-red fluid leaked down its neck.
Daniel didn't think.
He swung the brick.
The impact cracked bone with a wet, hollow pop. The head snapped sideways, teeth clacking, but it didn't fall. Its fingers scraped across his jacket, nails ripping threads loose.
"Stay down!" he snarled, voice rough.
He swung again — harder, angrier — until the skull finally gave with a sickening crunch that vibrated through his arm.
It collapsed at his feet.
Daniel didn't feel relief.
Just heat.
Always heat.
Another shape moved behind it.
Then another.
Of course.
His fight with Aaron had been loud. Loud enough to echo through the buildings, loud enough to pull every dead thing within earshot toward him.
He knew that.
And still he'd yelled.
Still he'd shoved.
Because Daniel Cruz had never been good at walking away from an argument — even when he knew he should.
"Move," he muttered to himself.
His injured leg throbbed with every step, pain flashing hot enough to make his vision blur. He limped backward, boots crunching broken glass.
Rebecca flashed through his mind.
Sofia clinging to her shirt.
Lucas trying not to cry.
You don't get to stop.
The next corpse lunged.
Daniel reacted before thinking — smashing the brick down. It landed wrong, sliding across bone instead of breaking it. The corpse slammed into him, mouth snapping inches from his throat, breath rotten and wet.
"Back up!" he growled, shoving it away.
He hit it again. Harder.
Skin split.
Something dark splashed across his forearm.
The body dropped, twitching.
Daniel backed away, heart hammering, adrenaline turning every sound into a threat.
The city looked like a war zone that had lost its rules.
Cars burned in intersections. Flames reflected in shattered windows. Someone ran across the street screaming for help — and disappeared beneath a pile of moving bodies before Daniel could even process it.
He looked away too late.
The sound of tearing carried through the smoke.
His stomach twisted.
Aaron's voice echoed in his head:
The dead don't care that you're a father.
Daniel clenched his jaw.
He hated that Aaron had said it.
Hated more that it was true.
He ducked behind an overturned mailbox, chest heaving. His hands shook — not from fear alone, but from the replay in his head.
The argument.
The shove.
The way Aaron's eyes had gone cold.
Daniel had always believed he was right.
Even when he wasn't.
Especially when he wasn't.
His dad used to call him stubborn. Rebecca called it passion.
Tonight it almost got him killed.
Maybe it still would.
Two figures staggered from a storefront across the street. Their movements were wrong — too fast, too hungry. One had half a face missing, teeth exposed through torn muscle.
They saw him.
Started toward him.
Daniel swore and ran.
Trash bags burst under his boots, rotten food spilling across the pavement. The smell hit him hard enough to make him gag.
Footsteps slapped wetly behind him.
Too close.
He didn't look back.
Looking back slowed you down.
And Daniel had learned the hard way that hesitation was death.
A chain-link fence blocked the alley's end.
Of course it did.
Daniel grabbed it and shook it, metal rattling loud enough to make him curse himself instantly.
Too loud.
Always too loud.
He climbed anyway.
The fence tore into his palms as he hauled himself upward, injured leg screaming. Cold fingers brushed his ankle from below.
He kicked hard.
Something snarled — wet, furious.
He dragged himself over the top and dropped hard onto the pavement, breath exploding from his lungs.
For a second he lay there, staring up at the dark sky.
Thinking.
Not about strangers.
Not about saving everyone.
About Rebecca.
About Lucas waiting for him.
About Sofia asking if Daddy was coming back.
The thought burned.
Maybe Aaron wasn't wrong.
Maybe you didn't save everyone.
Maybe you just saved who mattered.
The realization tasted bitter.
But it felt real.
Daniel pushed himself upright and limped into an open parking lot.
A teenager sprinted across it — alive — backpack bouncing.
A corpse tackled her from behind.
Daniel froze.
He wanted to help.
He almost moved.
Then more bodies closed in.
The scream turned wet.
Then stopped.
Daniel turned away.
His chest hurt like something had cracked inside it.
"You don't get to be the hero anymore," he muttered.
His leg buckled near the next corner.
He dropped to one knee, pain flaring bright and sharp.
Anger surged again — at Aaron, at himself, at the world.
He slammed the brick into the pavement once, frustration cracking through him.
"You always think you're right," Rebecca's voice echoed in his memory.
Yeah.
He did.
And tonight he'd been wrong.
Aaron had seen the bigger picture.
Aaron had walked away before Daniel's temper got them both killed.
Daniel hated admitting that.
Even alone.
Even bleeding.
A shadow fell across him.
He looked up just in time to see a corpse lunge.
He reacted instantly — smashing the brick upward. Bone split with a thick, ugly crack. The body collapsed into him, heavy and slick.
He shoved it off, breath ragged.
His arms shook.
His anger wasn't fading.
It was turning into something colder.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
Would it get him killed?
Probably.
But Daniel didn't know how to be anything else.
He limped down the street, every step heavier than the last.
Fires burned.
People ran.
A car slammed into a light pole at the intersection, horn blaring endlessly.
The world had turned into chaos — and Daniel was still trying to force it into rules that didn't exist anymore.
Aaron's absence pressed against him like a weight.
"You better be alive," he muttered.
Because if Aaron had left him to die…
Daniel didn't know if he could forgive that.
Or himself.
A low rumble echoed through the smoke.
An engine.
Big.
Heavy.
Daniel froze.
Headlights cut through the haze ahead — bright, blinding, coming straight toward him.
Behind him, shapes moved.
Too many.
Closing fast.
Daniel tightened his grip on the brick, shoulders squaring automatically.
Hotheaded.
Stubborn.
Always ready to fight even when fighting was stupid.
The dead surged closer behind him.
The vehicle roared forward.
For a split second Daniel didn't know which would reach him first —
teeth
or metal.
The headlights swallowed him in white light.
And Daniel braced himself, certain this was the moment his anger finally got him killed.