Chapter Three

The Safe House

From the dark shadows of the storage room, the witch that our ruckus had startled burst out with a mingled scream of fury and hate and launched herself at the one she saw as the cause of all the noise—the Hunter.

Even in my dazed mind, I was stunned that she would attack someone of her own kind instead of me. I guess she hadn't seen or sensed the non-Infected in her midst, or because the Hunter had been much closer or I was just too small.

Either way, my luck apparently was holding out.

Shrieking in response, the Hunter fell back, dancing away on two feet from the flailing claws with inhuman agility. It was fast. Very fast. Yet the witch was even faster, pressing her advantage of surprise. The air filled with the sound of ripping cloth and shrieks and screams of pain in response. But just as before, the Hunter got over its shock almost instantly. It was cornered, furious, and already in pain. So it attacked back.

The two Infected launched into an all-out war. Blood and spit were flying everywhere. Claws slashed and teeth gnashed and bit. Ear-splitting shrieks resounded in the dead air, contained and magnified by the four walls. More shelves crashed as the Hunter leapt out of the way of its enemy's claws, trying to get behind for a better attack range. The hunter was more agile, but it was difficult to maneuver in such an enclosed space. It growled in frustration, perched atop one of the still-standing shelves, forced to almost lie down flat by the ceiling. The witch scrambled after it, sending the shelf tottering and the Hunter flying, searching for another vantage point. But it didn't matter. Sooner or later, I knew it would lose.

I shook my head clear. The katana in my hand—which had only clamped tighter around the hilt instead of letting go—was slick with nervous sweat. Once the Hunter was dispatched, the witch would come for me next. I could try to run away, make it to the safe house, but I didn't know how much time I would have to do so. There was also the chance I could be stopped by something in the street, giving the shrieking pale creature more than ample time to pursue. There was only one option for me. I would have to try to take it down while it was distracted.

I rose unsteadily to my feet, leaning up against the wall until my head stopped spinning. That Hunter was running out of room now. Soon, it would be chased into a corner and ripped to pieces. I smiled disgustedly at the irony. It seemed my life was full of it nowadays.

"Keep it in one spot!" I shouted, drawing the katana into a ready position. The words were out of my mouth before I had time to realize I had spoken and chide myself for doing so unnecessarily.

But to my continual amazement, the Hunter stopped its wild, frantic jumping and ducked behind a shelf and into a corner, pulling the metal shelving down on itself like a crude, imperfect shield. The witch screamed in frustration at this new development, but continued its psychotic assault, attempting to claw through the narrow spaces in the shelving at the trapped, hissing Hunter.

It was all I needed.

My mind blank, almost detached from my body, I lunged forward, sword at the ready. Everything seemed to slow. I saw the witch's claws raise and fall, its shoulders and back muscles taut with offensive wrath. As if from far away, I saw the flailing form fill my view, suddenly bright and clear against the nearly pitch-black shadows. There was a wave of sick thrill that shot into my throat and exploded into my head as I swung the sword.

The witch screamed, clawing at the back of her neck with one hand where I had slashed the blade, the other hand still trying to reach the Hunter. Her mistake. The lethal mistake of a crazed, single-minded monster.

I swung again and again, hacking and slashing until blood was flying, the ruthless thrill building in my chest, threatening to explode, to blind me.

One more slash. With a strangled, gurgling gasp, the creature simply fell over. I pulled back, ready and watching for retaliation. The ghostly pale limbs twitched once, twice. And then were still.

The image was enough to trigger a distant memory. Of an apartment. A normal day. A friend…

I jerked back, shaking my head, and it was as if something inside me broke.

No. Not now. I didn't want that memory.

I didn't want it.

Stop.

Tears brimmed at my eyes. I stood heaving for breath over the still body, staring down at the dead witch in a daze with only the minimal light from the setting sun and the rising moon trickling through the door to aid my vision. Blood pounded furiously in my ears. But I was suddenly myself again. The relentless, savage part of me had disappeared, just as it always did. Now that the rush was rapidly fading, my body started aching all over again, the pain so severe it was unable to be dulled even by the adrenaline coursing through me.

From behind me came a crashing, growling noise, and I whirled to face it, my katana held at ready. The Hunter was trying to crawl out from under the metal shelving, shoving and pushing and snarling its way free. My grip on the sword hilt tightened, my body tensing, but the creature merely retreated into a corner and started licking at its wounds. I could feel its eyes watching me.

I was still breathing heavily, the numbness that I had felt during the attack was rapidly being replaced by exhaustion. I stared at the Hunter, unsure what to do, unsure of my own thoughts.

Grunts and snarls from the street beyond told me our fight had summoned more trouble. I swung around to face them, knowing full well that with my current strength, I would fall easily. The first body filled the doorway within moments, blocking out the little light. I braced myself for the defense, only to be shoved aside as something shot past me.

There was a scream that was cut short almost as immediately as it had started, and the Infected at the door fell back, its neck ripped open by claws and teeth too fast to see. With a threatening shriek, the Hunter leapt off the body and out of sight, and I heard more screaming and ripping clothing and flesh. I heaved myself to my feet, limping to the doorway and out into an alleyway.

To my surprise, there were only a handful of Infected. Probably less than a dozen. To my even greater surprise, the Hunter had already ripped through half of them. I realized suddenly what a mistake it had been for me to step out into the open. The Infected weren't interested in the Hunter unless it was ripping them apart. It was just another Infected, after all.

They were really more interested in me.

The nearest one charged, its expression and movements more wild and animalistic in the twilight. I reacted instantly, my sword flashing for what felt like the thousandth time that night, my muscles screaming for rest and relief.

My attacker collapsed into a bloody heap, only to be replaced by two more. I screamed in pain and frustration and lashed out, cutting and slicing at them as they bore down on me. Another final slash and then my muscles seized up in pain, the katana at last falling from my grasp as I fell to my knees with a sob, clutching at my pain-wracked arms and body and closing my eyes against what I was sure would be even more pain.

It never came. I heard the by-now familiar growl startling close. Then the screams of the two Infected as they were ripped apart. And then silence.

All I could hear was my breathing and the gurgling sounds of those dying around me. I kept my eyes shut tight. My body trembled from exhaustion. For what seemed like hours, it seemed as if the world and time had frozen around just those few moments. It was all I knew. All I cared to know. I didn't want to fight anymore. For the first time since this entire zombie fiasco had begun, I understood exactly how my companions had felt every time they left a battle alive.

I was sick of this fighting. I was sick of this constant struggle for life. My will to survive and faith that I could do so had been severely shaken in the past little while. I felt my world crumbling down around me. I had, at long last, realized how vulnerable and helpless I truly was. I was not a fighter. I was not a killer. I was just a scared little girl.

The Hunter growled, the sound too close for comfort. But it was less aggressive than before. Still shaking, I peeked a gaze towards the sound. The Hunter was crouched mere inches away, its hooded face filling my view. With a strangled gasp, I flung myself away, backpedaling until I was pressed up against the wall. Tears streamed down my face, unnoticed and unchecked. My filthy, blood coated hand tried to wipe them away automatically, only to realize that I was smearing the blood and tears all over me.

The Hunter remained where it was, watching.

"Just kill me," I pleaded, my hoarse voice small and pathetic. "Get it over with. I won't fight back this time."

It tilted its head to the side, continuing to stare at me for several long, tense moments. Then, to my utter amazement and mixed disappointment, it turned and jumped away, disappearing into the darkness.

I sat there for what felt like ages, gasping down air as more tears poured down my face, my entire existence a numb, throbbing source of pain and exhaustion and aching. I felt like curling up into a ball and just dying, then and there, surrounded by the Infected dead. My own fragility had been rudely shoved into my face at my own deserving. But now a new truth was breaking through my stone hard beliefs, shattering my already dwindling sanity.

The Infected were not all mindless, soulless monsters. The Hunter was different. Somehow, the virus had allowed it to retain some shred of humanity and understanding in that diseased brain. Somehow, it understood my words. It had chosen not to kill me, even though it had more than enough opportunity to. Even though I had done my best to harm it in any way I could. I didn't know why or how, but I knew without thinking that it had never intended to hurt me after I had left the apartment. It had been playing with me. That was all. And not like a cat and mouse. More like…a friendly dog.

The Hunter dropped down next to me, scaring me nearly enough to scream, but my self-preservation had at last kicked in, and I kept my mouth shut at the last minute. I eyed it warily, the sudden outburst of tears now drying in salty streaks down my face.

"Now what do you want?"

It looked at me, glanced at the street and then back at me again. I turned to look at the street too, and the sight of it allowed for a single thought to push through the haze in my mind. The safe house. That was the whole point of this. That was my goal.

Whimpering in pain, I shakily, slowly climbed to my feet. The Hunter drew away a few feet, but it did not leave, remaining to watch me as I wobbled uncertainly and then stumbled forward, each heavy step shooting pain through my nerves.

Somehow, I made it to the insurance building. I'm not sure how I managed to cross the street with support, but before I had fully understood what I was doing, I was pulling with all my strength at the front door, forcing my way inside to the quiet empty darkness beyond. I stumbled about, blind and confused, deadened fingers feeling my way along the stacked furniture to the back wall, and then sudden empty space.

The safe room.

My hands searched the walls on either side of the doorframe, at last catching a light switch and dousing the room in yellow artificial light.

I had never been so relieved to see a room in all my life, even though it was dingy and small. It looked as if it had once been a back storage area, more long than it was wide. Metal shelves pressed up around the sidewalls, and a long table sat in the back sporting various pieces of equipment. Sleeping bags were piled in a heap in a corner under the table, beckoning me, but something on the wall in the back caught my eye.

Using the shelving for support, I made my way towards it, squinting in an effort to read the graffiti underneath a large painted U. The message and the letter seemed to be the freshest writing there, standing out clearly amongst all the others. The closer I got, I realized with a jolt that there was a pile of food and medical supplies stacked underneath the writing.

Eden,

Tried to find you, but too dangerous. We are all okay, thanks to you. We waited 24 hours. Left to next safe house. Sorry. So sorry. We pray you are alive. God willing, we will see you again.

I stared at the message, a mixture of hurt and relief twisting at my chest. My friends were safe and alive, or at least had been at the writing of this message. But I had been left behind.

Left for dead.

Yet they had left me supplies in the slim chance that I had survived. They had wanted to believe I was alive. They had wanted to believe I was invincible.

If only I still felt the same way.

Something stirred at the safe house door. I glanced over and saw the Hunter standing there, peering in from where it partially hid behind the wall in the shadows, its gaze, as ever, focused on me.

"You know, these rooms are meant to keep you out," I told it resignedly.

As if to prove me wrong, it crept past the doorframe a few feet and then dropped into a crouch, a deep growl vibrating from the depths of its hood.

"Ha. Great. You really are a smart ass. Just my luck, getting stalked by the only Infected in the entire world with a sense of humor."

The words were pointless, stupid. But it felt good to talk. It was the only outlet I had left to me now, and the Hunter was the only living creature left around to listen.

I shuffled towards the entrance again, and the Hunter took a step back, unsure what I was doing. Not that it had to worry. My weapons were back in the alleyway, and I was in no condition to get into a fight.

"I'm tired. I need to sleep. I'm going to shut the door. I don't care if you stay."

The hidden gaze watched me as I stepped past it. I hesitated, glancing furtively at the creature, but it continued to sit there, making no move to try to leave. Fine, if it wanted to stay and rip me apart in my sleep, so be it. I was beyond caring.

I swung the door shut with hands and arms shuddering from exhaustion. Numb fingers tugged at the lock and bar, and with a heavy clunk I was locked in with the Infected.

Suicidal, I decided. Definitely suicidal.

I turned and stumbled back to the corner where the sleeping bags were, dragging them out and falling onto them in almost the same movement. My entire body gave one last shudder, and then my muscles sagged and released, sending my mind to a world where the nightmares were less terrifying than the living reality.