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Day 2

My sister called me. She didn't call to catch up. She called to apologize.

She said they made a mistake at the lab. She said they were only trying to help, to cure things we thought were incurable. But she was crying so hard, and the screams in the background... they didn't sound human. Her last words to me were, "Hide, Yn. Please, just survive."

Word Count 9.2k

Warnings- Violence, Gore,injuries,Death,Guns

Masterlist

🧟‍♀️ REMEMBER...Masterlist 🧟‍♀️

AN- Here you go finally the next part.

Previous part

Day 2.

Survival is a funny thing. It strips away everything you thought mattered. The bills you were stressed about, the argument you had with a friend last week, the career you were supposed to be building none of it exists anymore. There is only the immediate present. There is only the next breath, the next step, the next locked door.

When I packed my bag yesterday, my only thought was self-preservation. I grabbed my father's gun, some food, some water, and I ran. I just wanted to get out of the city. I thought that if I could just get far enough away, from the monsters my mother and Kaye built, maybe I could outrun the end of the world. It was a selfish, desperate kind of survival. It was easy. If I messed up, the only life I was gambling with was my own.

But being responsible for the survival of someone else? That is a completely different kind of terror.

Lily hasn't let go of my jacket in hours. Every time I feel the slight, trembling tug of her small hand gripping the leather, I feel a weight pressing down on my chest. I can't just run anymore. I can't take risks. Every shadow I check, every corner I turn, every decision I make has to be made with her in mind.

She is seven years old. She shouldn't be wearing a sweater three sizes too big, carrying a backpack full of water bottles, tiptoeing through abandoned backyards to hide from things that used to be human. She should be complaining about homework. She should be watching cartoons.

My family broke her world. And now, somehow, I have become the only thing keeping her alive in the ruins of it.

I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to shoot this gun accurately. I don't know how to fight. I don't even know where we are going. I just know that if anything happens to her, I won't be able to live with myself. The guilt Kaye felt? The apology she gave me on the phone before she died? I finally understand it.

–––

The Florida heat was already oppressive by mid-morning, thick and humid, clinging to your skin like a wet blanket. The heavy leather jacket, which had felt like armor in the cool air of the previous night, was now suffocating. Sweat dripped down your back, making the grip of the revolver at your waist feel slick and uncomfortable.

You and Lily had been moving for hours, slipping through the backyards of the sprawling Orlando suburbs. You had navigated over broken chain-link fences, crawled under low hanging Spanish moss, and tiptoed past patio furniture that looked entirely too normal for a world that had ended yesterday.

So far, the plan was working. The backyards were mostly empty. The infected the things seemed drawn to the open streets, migrating aimlessly along the pavement.

"Okay, let's take a break," you whispered, stopping behind a large, overgrown oak tree in the corner of a large yard.

Lily slumped immediately, sinking down to sit on the thick roots of the tree. Her face was flushed bright red, and her breaths were coming in short pants. The oversized wool sweater you had found her was undoubtedly making the heat worse, but you couldn't risk her taking it off. It was thick enough to offer some protection against a bite or a scratch if the worst happened.

You crouched down beside her, unzipping your duffel bag. You pulled out one of the water bottles, unscrewing the cap.

"Here," you said softly, handing it to her. "Small sips, okay? Don't drink it too fast."

She nodded, taking the bottle and drinking greedily. You watched her, your chest tightening. She was so pale beneath the dirt smudges, her energy entirely depleted. You checked the surrounding yard, your eyes scanning the tall wooden fence line. It was quiet. The only sound was the distant, continuous drone of a helicopter heading north, far too high up to notice two people hiding in the shade of an oak tree.

"Are we safe here?" Lily asked, her voice sounding small. She lowered the water bottle, hugging her stuffed rabbit tighter with her other arm.

"For a minute," you replied, forcing a reassuring smile. You took the water bottle back, taking a small sip yourself before capping it tightly. "We're doing really well, Lily. We're almost out of the neighborhoods."

It was a half-truth. You had made it past the densest suburban blocks, but the sprawling developments of Florida seemed endless. You needed to find a main road heading out of the metropolitan area, but going out into the open meant risking exposure to the larger groups of infected.

"Where are we going?" she asked, looking up at you with wide, exhausted eyes.

You hesitated. It was the question you had been avoiding asking yourself all morning. Where are we going? You had no destination. No safe house. The military clearly didn't have a handle on the situation, and the police were either dead or had abandoned their posts. You couldn't tell a seven year old that you were just wandering aimlessly until you either found safety or died trying.

"We're looking for a place with big walls," you lied, adjusting the heavy strap of your bag. "A place where the sick people can't get in. Maybe a school, or a big store."

She seemed to accept that answer, nodding slowly.

"Ready to keep moving?" you asked, offering her your hand.

She took it, letting you pull her to her feet. You squeezed her hand gently, drawing the hunting knife from your belt with your free hand.

You moved to the edge of the fence, peering through a small gap between the wooden slats. The next yard belonged to a house that sat on a corner lot, bordering a wider, two-lane road.

"Okay," you breathed, assessing the layout. "We have to cross the yard and check the street. Stay low, right behind me."

You opened the gate quietly, slipping through into the corner lot. The grass here was taller, neglected even before the world fell apart. You moved quickly, keeping the bulk of the house between you and the open road.

As you reached the edge of the house, you pressed your back against the wall. You gestured for Lily to stay put. She stopped instantly, pressing herself against the wall beside you, her eyes squeezed shut.

You tightened your grip on the knife and slowly leaned forward, peeking around the corner of the house to look down the two-lane road.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The road was a graveyard of cars. Dozens of vehicles were smashed together, abandoned in a frantic, failed attempt to evacuate the area. Doors were flung wide open, suitcases and bags spilled across the asphalt.

But it wasn't the cars that made your blood run cold.

The street was swarming. There had to be at least thirty of them, wandering aimlessly between the wrecked vehicles. The grotesque sounds of their guttural snarling and shuffling feet drifted toward you. They were trapped in the wreckage, effectively blocking the entire intersection.

You quickly pulled back, pressing your head against the rough stucco of the wall, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

Damn it.

You couldn't go that way. There were too many, and crossing an open street full of them with a child would be suicide. You looked back the way you had come, then to the side. The only other option was to cut through a narrow, overgrown alleyway that ran between the back of this house and a small, strip mall style convenience store.

You looked down at Lily. Her eyes were open now, watching you with a quiet trust.

"Change of plans," you whispered, turning back toward her. "We're going to take a detour. Stay close."

The alleyway behind the convenience store was narrow and reeked of rotting garbage, but more importantly, it was empty. You hurried Lily through slipping out the other side and into a patch of scrub pines that bordered the edge of the suburban sprawl.

The vegetation was thick, scraping against your jeans as you pushed through, but it offered excellent cover from the roads. You slowed your pace, the adrenaline of seeing the horde in the street slowly going away.

"Okay," you murmured, glancing over your shoulder to check on Lily. She was trudging along behind you, the oversized sweater snagging occasionally on the brush, but she hadn't complained once. "We're doing good. We're going to stay in the trees for a while."

The silence out here was heavy, only broken by the crunch of dry pine needles under your boots and the occasional chirp of a cicada. It was too quiet. The lack of noise was clearly making Lily anxious her eyes kept darting nervously to the shadows between the trees.

You needed to distract her. You needed to keep her mind off the monsters on the asphalt and the parents she left behind.

"Hey, Lily," you said softly, coming to a brief stop to let her catch up. "Do you like games?"

She looked up at you cautiously. "Games?"

"Yeah. My mom used to play a game with me when we went on long car rides. It's called the Alphabet Game." You resumed walking, keeping your pace slow enough for her short legs. "You have to name an animal for every letter of the alphabet. But we have to take turns. I'll start."

She watched you for a moment, the tension in her small shoulders relaxing just a bit.

"A," you said, pretending to think deeply. "Aardvark."

Lily frowned slightly, her brow furrowing. "What's an aardvark?"

"It's like a really big, funny-looking pig with a long nose that eats ants," you explained, smiling over your shoulder at her. "Okay, your turn. Letter B."

She was silent for a few steps, her gaze dropping to the dirt path as she concentrated. "Bear," she said finally, her voice a little louder, a little steadier.

"Good one," you nodded encouragingly. "Okay, C. Cat. Easy."

"D..." she murmured, her face scrunching up in thought. "Dog!"

"Excellent. E is for Elephant."

"F is for... Flamingo," she said, a tiny spark of pride in her voice.

"Ooh, very Florida of you," you chuckled softly, keeping your eyes scanning the trees ahead. "G is for Giraffe."

"H is for Horse," she countered quickly.

You walked for another ten minutes, the rhythm of the game settling into a comforting back-and-forth. It didn't make it any less hot and it didn't change the fact that the world had ended, but for a few minutes, your situation was pushed to the background.

"Okay, I think we're on P," you said. "Penguin."

"Q," Lily said, her voice trailing off. She stopped walking, her brow heavily furrowed in frustration. "Q is hard."

"Take your time," you told her, stopping a few feet ahead. You used the moment to listen, straining your ears past the rustle of the wind in the pines. Nothing. Just the cicadas. "Want a hint?"

"No," she said stubbornly, kicking at a pinecone with the toe of her sneaker. "I know one. A... a quail!"

"Nice job," you praised her, turning fully around to face her. "Alright, R is for Rhinoceros—"

You stopped abruptly.

You hadn't heard a footstep. You hadn't heard a groan.

But as you turned back around to face the path ahead, a figure stepped out from behind the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree, directly blocking your path.

It was a man, or at least, it had been. He was wearing the tattered remains of a park ranger uniform, the green fabric stained almost entirely black with dried blood. His left arm hung at an unnatural angle, the bone visibly protruding through the skin.

He hadn't made a sound because his lower jaw was entirely missing, torn away in whatever violent attack had turned him.

He saw you. Or rather, he sensed you. The milky, dead eyes fixed on your position, and a wet, gurgling hiss erupted from the ruined cavity of his throat. He lunged forward, his good arm reaching out, closing the distance between you with unbelievable speed.

"Lily, get back!" you screamed, all pretense of staying quiet shattering.

You didn't have time to draw the gun. You barely had time to react. You dropped into a defensive stance, raising the heavy hunting knife just as the infected ranger slammed into you.

The impact was like hitting a brick wall. The infected ranger crashed into you, his weight driving you backward. You stumbled, your hiking boots sliding on the dry pine needles, but you managed to stay upright.

He smelled like rotting meat and copper, a stench so foul it made your eyes water. The wet, gurgling hiss from his throat sprayed dark droplets of infected blood across your cheek. He was incredibly strong, driven by a primal, singular focus. His hand clawed frantically at your leather jacket, trying to pull you close enough to bite down with the jagged upper teeth that remained.

"Lily, turn around! Cover your eyes!" you shrieked, your voice tearing painfully from your throat.

You threw your left forearm up, wedging it hard against the ranger's collarbone to keep his snapping teeth away from your face. His fingernails tore at the thick leather of your sleeve, the fabric groaning under the pressure. You grit your teeth, muscles burning as you fought to hold him back.

He shoved forward again, and this time, your heel caught on an tree root.

You went down hard, hitting the dirt with a thud. The breath rushed out of your lungs. The infected ranger fell with you, pinning you to the ground. His ruined mouth snapped wildly, mere inches from your nose.

Panic flooded your veins. He's going to bite me. He's going to kill me.

You thrashed wildly, bucking your hips to throw him off, but he was dead weight, completely oblivious to pain. His clawing hand slipped from your jacket, his fingers digging painfully into the exposed skin of your neck.

"Get... off!" you gasped, your right hand frantically fumbling at your waist.

Your fingers scrambled blindly, slipping against your belt until they finally closed around the familiar, worn leather hilt of the hunting knife. You ripped it from the sheath with a desperate yell.

You didn't hesitate. You didn't think about the fact that he used to be a human being.

You thrust the heavy blade upward with every ounce of strength you had left. The sharp steel caught him right under the chin, sliding smoothly through the soft tissue and plunging deep into the base of his skull.

The ranger jerked violently, his body going rigid for a split second. The gurgling hiss died instantly. The milky eyes rolled back, and he collapsed fully onto you, completely limp.

You lay there for a second, gasping for air, the dead weight of the body pressing the air from your lungs. Your hands were shaking so hard you couldn't maintain your grip on the knife.

"Lily?" you choked out, your voice barely a whisper.

You shoved the corpse off of you, rolling it onto its back in the dirt. You scrambled backward on your hands and knees, scrambling away from the body trying to catch your breath.

You looked up frantically. Lily was standing exactly where you had left her, about ten feet away. She had her back to you, her small hands clamped tightly over her eyes, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She had listened. She hadn't looked.

"Okay," you gasped, pushing yourself up onto shaking legs. You wiped the dark splatter of blood from your cheek with the back of your sleeve, grimacing in disgust. "Okay, Lily. I'm okay."

You stumbled over to her, dropping to your knees and pulling her into a tight hug. She immediately wrapped her arms around your neck, burying her face into your shoulder, crying softly.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, holding her tight, trying to slow your own racing heartbeat. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. You were so good. You listened perfectly."

You held her for a moment, staring over her shoulder at the dead ranger in the dirt, the hilt of your knife protruding from beneath his jaw. The silence of the pine forest rushed back in, but it no longer felt peaceful. It felt like a trap.

You couldn't stay in the woods. You couldn't stay on the roads.

"We have to go," you murmured, gently pulling back from Lily. You kept your hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eye. "We can't play the game right now, sweetie. We have to be very quiet again, okay?"

She nodded, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

You stood up, your legs still feeling like jelly. You walked back over to the body. You didn't want to touch it again, but you couldn't leave the knife. You grabbed the hilt, bracing your boot against the ranger's shoulder, and yanked the blade free. You wiped the steel clean on the dead man's trousers before sliding it back into the sheath.

"Come on," you said, reaching out to take Lily's hand. "Let's find somewhere safe."

The woods were no longer a sanctuary. You moved faster now, the humid Florida air burning in your lungs, pulling Lily along behind you. She stumbled a few times, her small legs struggling to keep up with your frantic pace, but she didn't complain. She just gripped your hand tighter.

You pushed through a group of shrubs and practically fell out onto the edge of a paved service road.

You froze instantly, pulling Lily back against your side.

The service road was empty. It stretched out straight in both directions, bordered by a high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire on the opposite side. Beyond the fence, you could see the towering, skeletal structures of light poles the kind used for a stadium or a sports complex.

This was it. The walls you had been looking for.

"Look," you whispered to Lily, pointing toward the sprawling complex. "See that fence? We just have to get inside."

You scanned the road. To your left, about fifty yards down, a small group of infected four or five of them were shambling aimlessly toward a maintenance truck. They hadn't noticed you yet. To your right, the road was clear, leading toward a wide, open gate in the chain-link fence.

"We're going to cross the road and go through that gate," you told Lily, your voice tight with adrenaline. "But we have to run. Fast and quiet. Ready?"

She nodded, her eyes wide, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly against her chest.

"Go," you breathed.

You broke from the tree line, sprinting across the hot asphalt. You didn't look left. You didn't look right. You just kept your eyes locked on the open gate. Lily's hand was clamped in yours, her small feet pounding against the pavement.

A sharp, guttural screech pierced the air behind you.

They saw us.

You risked a glance over your shoulder. The small group of infected had turned, their milky eyes locking onto your movement. They broke into a disjointed, horrifyingly fast shamble, their arms reaching out, jaws snapping.

"Faster, Lily, come on!" you urged, practically dragging her the last ten yards.

You hit the gate, throwing yourself through the opening. You spun around instantly, grabbing the heavy metal frame of the gate. It was designed to slide shut on a track.

"Help me push!" you yelled at Lily.

She dropped her rabbit and threw her small weight against the metal mesh. You dug your boots into the gravel, ignoring the burning in your muscles, and shoved with everything you had. The gate groaned, sliding slowly along the track.

The infected were closing the distance. Thirty yards. Twenty yards.

You gritted your teeth, pushing harder. The heavy metal screeched in protest.

Ten yards. You could see the dried blood on their clothes, the hungry, vacant stares.

Clang.

The gate slammed shut just as the first infected reached it. The creature crashed violently into the chain-link, its hands clawing uselessly at the metal, its teeth snapping inches from your face through the gaps.

You stumbled backward gasping for air.

You didn't waste time watching them. You dropped to your knees, quickly wrapping a heavy length of chain around the gate post and securing it with a heavy padlock that hung loosely from the links.

It was locked. You were inside.

You slumped back against the fence, sliding down until you hit the dirt. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your forehead on your arms, trying to regulate your breathing.

Lily scrambled over to you, retrieving her rabbit from the dust, and buried herself against your side. You wrapped an arm around her automatically, holding her tight.

"We did it," you choked out. "We're safe."

You looked up, finally taking in your surroundings. You were inside a massive complex. Beyond the parking lot, towering concrete walls rose up, surrounding what looked like a professional training facility. The pitches were empty.

It was quiet. It was secure.

You stayed slumped against the chain-link fence for a long time, the only sounds the frantic, wet snapping of the infected just inches away on the other side of the outer fence and Lily’s ragged breathing against your side.

You finally forced yourself to stand, your legs trembling with exhaustion. You pulled Lily up with you, gently brushing some of the dirt from her sweater.

"Okay," you said, your voice still shaky. You pointed toward the modern looking building at the center of the complex. The logo on the side a stylized crest, but you barely glanced at it. "Let's get out of the sun. We need to find somewhere inside to rest."

You kept your hand firmly on the grip of your revolver as you led Lily across the empty parking lot. The silence here was unsettling. There were no abandoned cars blocking the lanes, no scattered luggage, no signs of panic. It looked exactly as it should on a quiet off-day, except for the apocalypse happening on the other side of the fence.

You approached the main entrance of the facility tinted double glass doors. You stopped a few feet away, listening intently.

Nothing.

You moved forward cautiously, pressing your face against the tinted glass, trying to cup your hands around your eyes to block the glare. The lobby inside was modern, with plush seating, a reception desk, and walls lined with framed jerseys and photographs. It was completely empty.

You tried the handle on the right door. It didn't budge. You tried the left. Locked.

"Damn it," you muttered, stepping back. You couldn't break the glass the noise would draw every infected within a mile to the fence line.

"Yn?" Lily whispered, tugging gently on your jacket. She pointed down a wide, paved pathway that curved around the side of the main building, leading toward the training pitches. "What about over there?"

"Good eye," you praised her quietly.

You followed the path, keeping your back close to the wall of the main building. As you rounded the corner, the scale of the complex opened up before you. Several manicured pitches stretched out.

Set back from the fields was a long, low, cinderblock building, separate from the main complex. A sign above a door read TEAM LOCKER ROOMS & MEDICAL.

"Let's try that one," you said.

You approached the door cautiously. This time, when you pulled the handle, the latch clicked softly, and the door swung open.

You stepped inside, pulling Lily close. The air conditioning was off, but the thick walls kept the interior significantly cooler than the outside.

"Stay behind me," you whispered.

You moved slowly down a short hallway. To your right was a room filled with massage tables and medical supplies. To your left, a set of double doors stood propped open, leading into the main locker room.

You stepped into the doorway, your hand on your gun, scanning the room.

It was lined with custom wooden stalls. Bags were left on benches, cleats were scattered on the floor, and a few towels hung carelessly over the backs of chairs. It looked like the room had been evacuated in a hurry, but there was no blood. No signs of a struggle.

"I think it's empty," you breathed, finally letting your hand drop away from the revolver. "I think we're actually safe."

You led Lily toward the back of the locker room, away from the doors. You found a row of leather recliners likely a player lounge area and dropped your bag onto one of them with an exhausted sigh.

Lily immediately scrambled up onto the recliner next to yours, curling into a tight ball, still clutching her rabbit. Her eyes were already drooping.

"You can sleep now, sweetie," you told her softly, brushing a strand of sweaty hair off her forehead. "I'll keep watch. I promise."

She didn't need to be told twice. Within seconds, her breathing evened out.

You slumped down into the chair beside her, every muscle in your body hurting. You had made it. You had found shelter, walls, and seemingly, a quiet place to hide.

But as you sat there in the dim light of the locker room, a sudden sound caught your attention.

It wasn't a groan. It wasn't a scrape.

It was the distinct, heavy sound of a door clicking shut further down the hallway.

You froze. Someone or something was in the building with you.

Your exhaustion vanished instantly, replaced by a spike of adrenaline. You slowly pushed yourself up from the recliner, your eyes fixed on the doors leading back to the hallway. You drew your father's revolver.

You glanced down at Lily. She was dead to the world, exhausted beyond measure. You couldn't wake her. If she panicked and cried, she would give away your position.

You had to handle this quietly.

You crept toward the doors, keeping low, using the wooden stalls as cover. Your boots were silent against the thick rubber matting that covered the locker room floor. You reached the doorway and pressed your back against the doorframe, holding your breath.

* Squeak.*

Footsteps. But these weren't the dragging steps of the infected you had encountered. These were cautious, and wearing athletic shoes.

Whoever it was, they were alive.

"Keep your head down," a voice hissed, barely a whisper. It was a woman's voice, tight with stress. "Check the medical room first. We need more tape."

"I'm checking," another voice replied, softer, but equally tense. "Just cover the door."

Your grip tightened on the gun. Survivors. That should have been a good thing, but in the forty-eight hours since the world ended, you had learned that desperate people could be just as dangerous as the monsters outside. You didn't know these people, and you didn't know what they were capable of.

You peeked around the doorframe.

Two women were moving down the hallway, their backs currently facing you as they approached the medical room you had passed earlier. One was taller, holding a metal baseball bat loosely at her side. The other was slightly shorter, holding a long, sharp-looking piece of shattered glass wrapped in a bloody towel.

You had the drop on them. You could announce yourself, but if they panicked, if they swung that bat...

I have to control the situation, you thought.

You stepped fully out into the hallway, raising the revolver, holding it steady with both hands.

"Don't move," you said. Your voice was louder than you intended.

Both women froze instantly. The taller one slowly began to turn, her grip tightening on the baseball bat.

"I said don't move!" you snapped, thumbing back the hammer on the revolver with an audible *click*. "Drop the bat. Drop the glass. Now."

The taller woman turned her head just enough to look at you over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide, taking in the gun leveled directly at her chest. She slowly raised her hands, letting the metal bat clatter loudly against the concrete floor.

"Okay," she said, her voice remarkably steady despite the situation. "Okay, we're unarmed. Just... take it easy."

The second woman dropped the glass knife, holding her hands up as well. She slowly turned to face you, her eyes darting between the gun and your face.

"We don't want any trouble," the shorter woman said, her voice shaking slightly. "We're just looking for supplies. We didn't know anyone else was in here."

"Are there more of you?" you asked, not lowering the weapon.

The taller woman hesitated, exchanging a quick glance with her companion.

"Answer me!" you barked, the stress of the last two days finally fraying your nerves.

"Yes," a new voice said from directly behind you.

The cold, hard barrel of a gun pressed firmly against the back of your head.

"Drop the revolver," the voice behind you said calmly. "Or I'll drop you."

The cold steel pressing against the base of your skull sent a shockwave of fear down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat. You had been so focused on the two women in front of you that you hadn't heard the third person approach from the locker room behind you.

"I said drop it," the voice behind you repeated. It was a woman’s voice, older, filed with authority and a gruff, no-nonsense tone.

Your fingers twitched on the grip of the revolver. You could try to spin, to fire blindly, but the barrel against your head didn't waver an inch. You slowly loosened your grip. The gun slipped from your hand, clattering onto the floor.

"Kick it away," the voice ordered.

You complied, nudging the revolver toward the two women in the hallway with the toe of your boot.

"Now put your hands on your head," the woman behind you instructed.

You raised your hands, lacing your fingers behind your neck. You felt a hand pat down your sides, quickly finding and pulling the hunting knife from its sheath at your belt.

"Turn around. Slowly."

You pivoted. Standing before you was a woman in her late forties, wearing a dark blue security uniform that was missing a button and stained with dirt. The name tag on her chest read MILLER. She was holding a 9mm pistol keeping it aimed squarely at your chest.

Behind her, standing in the doorway of the locker room, you could see the empty recliner where Lily had been sleeping.

Panic flared through you.

Before you could ask, a small, furious voice echoed from the locker room.

"Stop! Leave her alone!"

Lily marched out from behind a row of wooden lockers. She was dragging the oversized sweater behind her, but she looked remarkably fierce for a seven year old. She marched right past the security guard, putting herself firmly between you and the barrel of the gun. She glared up at the guard, clutching her stuffed rabbit like a shield.

The security guard blinked, her stern expression faltering in surprise. The gun wavered, dipping toward the floor.

"A kid?" the taller woman in the hallway breathed, stepping closer.

You immediately dropped to your knees, pulling Lily against you, shielding her small body with yours. You glared up at the guard."Don't point that at her."

"I wasn't going to shoot a kid," the guard, Miller, muttered, lowering the weapon completely and engaging the safety. She let out a exhausted sigh. "Fuck. Where did you two come from?"

"We walked," you said defensively, keeping your arms securely wrapped around Lily. "We just needed a place to rest. The gate was open. We locked it behind us."

"You locked the main gate?" The shorter woman in the hallway spoke up. She was wearing a polo shirt with the facility's logo embroidered on the chest. "Are you sure?"

"I chained it," you confirmed, watching them warily. "There were... some of those things following us. They didn't get in."

Miller holstered her weapon, shaking her head. "Alright. Everyone calm down. Lola, Starr, check the cameras in the security office just to be sure. I don't want any surprises."

The two women from the hallway who you now realized must be facility staff nodded and hurried past you, disappearing down the corridor.

Miller looked back down at you, her gaze softening slightly as she looked at Lily. She reached out and picked up your revolver from the floor, checking the safety before handing it back to you, grip first.

"Sorry about the gun to the head," Miller said, her tone gruff but apologetic. "It's been a bad few days. We've had a lot of people trying to climb the fences, and not all of them were friendly."

You took the gun, quickly tucking it back into your waistband, and slowly stood up, keeping Lily close. "Who are you?"

"I'm the head of security for the complex," Miller replied, crossing her arms. "The other two are groundskeepers. When the evacuation orders went out, the roads jammed up. We got stuck here."

"Are you the only ones left?" you asked, glancing around the massive, empty hallway.

Miller hesitated, her expression tightening. "No. But we're the only ones currently in this building. Look, you two look like you're going to drop. There's a break room down the hall with some cots and vending machines we've busted open. Why don't you get the kid some food, and we'll figure out what to do with you."

It wasn't an invitation it was an order. But considering you were standing in their secure facility, you weren't in a position to argue.

"Okay," you nodded, tightening your grip on Lily's hand. "Thank you."

Miller gestured for you to follow her, leading you deeper into the facility. As you walked, the tension in your shoulders slowly began to uncoil. You had found people. You had found walls.

The break room was a small slice of heaven compared to the world outside. Starr and Lola, the two groundskeepers, had indeed busted open the vending machines snacks and bottled water were piled on a table.

You sat on a folding chair, watching Lily devour a package of cheese crackers. You had managed to clean the dirt and grime off her face with a damp paper towel, and for the first time in two days, she looked somewhat relaxed.

Miller was sitting at a small table nearby, nursing a lukewarm cup of instant coffee and reviewing a map of the facility complex. She hadn't said much since bringing you here, and the silence was starting to feel unnerving.

"So," you started, keeping your voice low. You uncapped a water bottle, taking a slow sip. "You said you aren't the only ones here. Who else is in the complex?"

Miller didn't look up from the map. She tapped her pen against the paper rhythmically. "The teams."

You blinked, confused. "The teams? What teams?"

"The national squads," Miller said, finally looking up. She looked exhausted, the bags under her eyes dark and heavy. "The US Women's National Team, England, Spain, and Australia. They were all here for the SheBelieves Cup tournament when the outbreak hit. The stadiums shut down, the flights were grounded. The athletes and their coaching staff got corralled back here because the security perimeter was already established."

Your jaw practically unhinged. You were sitting in a bunker with some of the most famous athletes in the world?

"Are they... are they okay?" you asked, stunned.

"Most of them," Miller sighed, rubbing her temples. "We lost a few of the support staff initially before we got the gates locked. Right now, the players are holed up in the main stadium dormitories across the complex. We’ve been trying to keep the different groups separated to conserve resources and minimize panic."

Before you could ask another question, the door to the break room crashed open.

"Fuck! Can we get some help over here?!"

The voice was loud, frantic, and unmistakably American.

You jumped to your feet, instinctively pulling your revolver, while Miller was already out of her chair, her hand on her holster.

Two women stumbled into the room, leaning heavily on each other. You recognized them instantly, even covered in dirt and sweat.

Emily Sonnett was practically carrying the second woman. Leaning entirely on Sonnett’s shoulder was Sophia Smith. Sophia was gasping in pain, her face screwed up in agony, her right leg dragging uselessly behind her.

"Sonnett! What happened?" Miller barked, rushing forward to help support Sophia’s weight.

"We were checking the fence near the east practice field," Sonnett gasped out, as she and Miller half-carried Sophia toward an empty cot against the wall. "She fell. The old scaffolding near the bleachers gave way. It’s bad, Miller. It’s really bad."

They lowered Sophia onto the cot. Sophia let out a sharp cry of pain.

"Don't touch it, don't touch it," Sophia hissed through gritted teeth, her hands hovering uselessly over her shin.

You quickly holstered your gun, stepping closer. You weren't a doctor your sister was the medical genius but you had spent enough time around Kaye’s lab and textbooks to know basic trauma response. You had also packed a first-aid kit.

"Let me look," you said, pushing past Miller and kneeling beside the cot.

"Who the hell are you?" Sonnett demanded, immediately stepping between you and Sophia, her posture defensive and aggressive.

"I have medical supplies," you said firmly, meeting Sonnett's intense glare without flinching. "I can help her. Move."

Sonnett hesitated, looking at Miller for confirmation. The security guard gave a curt nod. Sonnett reluctantly stepped back, though she kept her hands clenched into fists, watching you like a hawk.

You gently pushed Sophia's hands away from her leg. Her sweatpants were torn just below the knee, the fabric dark with blood. You pulled the tear wider, wincing at the sight.

It wasn't a bite, thank god. But it was a deep laceration running vertically down her shin, dangerously close to the bone. The scaffolding had sliced her open cleanly, and it was bleeding heavily.

"Okay," you said, keeping your voice calm and steady. You looked over your shoulder at Lily, who was watching with wide, frightened eyes from the folding chair. "Lily, sweetie, can you bring me the first-aid bag? The red one?"

Lily immediately got down, grabbing the kit from your bag and bringing it over. You gave her a quick, reassuring smile before turning back to the wound.

"Sophia, right?" you asked, opening the kit and pulling out a thick gauze pad.

Sophia nodded tightly, her eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading on her forehead.

"This is going to hurt," you warned her. "I have to put pressure on it to stop the bleeding. Sonnett, hold her shoulders down."

Sonnett didn't argue. She moved to the head of the cot, placing her hands firmly on Sophia’s shoulders.

You pressed the gauze directly into the deep cut, applying hard, direct pressure. Sophia let out a strangled scream, her body arching off the cot, but Sonnett held her down firmly.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," you muttered, keeping your hands steady. "Just breathe. Keep breathing."

You held the pressure for two minutes, the silence in the room broken only by Sophia's gasps and Sonnett's quiet murmurs of encouragement.

When you finally eased the pressure and lifted the gauze, the bleeding had slowed significantly. The cut was deep, and it absolutely needed stitches, but it wasn't hitting an artery.

"Okay, the bleeding is slowing down," you announced, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic wash from the kit. "I need to clean it before I bandage it. Miller, do you have a proper medical bay here? She's going to need antibiotics and probably stitches."

"The main medical facility in the stadium is locked down," Miller said, looking grim. "The team doctors are over there. But the comms are down. We can't radio them to let them know we're coming."

"Then we carry her," Sonnett said, looking down at Sophia. "I'm not leaving her here."

"You can't carry her across the open complex," Miller argued. "If there are infected that slipped through..."

"I'll help you," you interrupted, looking up at Sonnett. "I can help you carry her. But we have to wrap this first."

You poured the antiseptic wash over the wound. Sophia bit down hard on her sleeve to stifle another scream. You worked quickly, packing the cut with fresh gauze and wrapping her calf tightly with a compression bandage to keep the dressing in place.

You looked up at Sonnett, who was staring at you with a mixture of suspicion and grudging relief.

"It's secure for now," you told the athlete. "But she can't walk on it. If we're going to move her to the stadium, we need to do it now, before she goes into shock."

"We move now," Sonnett stated, her tone leaving no room for argument. She looked at Miller. "What’s the safest route to the stadium dorms?"

Miller dragged a hand down her face, studying the map on the table. "The complex is huge. The quickest way is straight across the main training pitches, but that leaves us completely exposed. If there are any biters out there, they’ll see us from a mile away."

"We stick to the service corridors," you suggested, standing up and wiping your bloody hands on a clean rag from the counter. You looked at the map over Miller's shoulder. "Are these tunnels underneath the bleachers connected to the main stadium?"

Miller looked surprised, then nodded. "Yes. The maintenance tunnels run beneath the stands and connect directly to the underground parking garage beneath the dorms. But it’s going to be dark. And if they got inside..."

"It’s better than being sitting ducks on the grass," Sonnett argued. She turned her gaze to you. "You said you'd help carry her."

"I did," you confirmed. "But I have a condition." You pointed to the folding chair where Lily was sitting, clutching her rabbit, her eyes darting nervously between the adults. "She comes with us. She doesn't leave my sight. If things go bad, your priority is your teammate. Mine is the kid."

Sonnett looked at Lily, really looking at her for the first time. The athlete's tough exterior cracked just a fraction. She gave a nod. "Deal."

"Alright," Miller sighed, holstering her radio, which had been emitting nothing but static for two days. "Starr, Lola, you two stay here and lock down this building. Do not open the doors for anyone unless you hear my voice. Understood?"

The two groundskeepers nodded fervently, clearly relieved they weren't being asked to go into the dark tunnels.

"Let's get her up," Sonnett said, moving to Sophia's uninjured side.

You moved to Sophia's other side. "On three," you instructed. "One, two, three."

Together, you and Sonnett hoisted Sophia to her feet. Sophia hissed in pain, her right leg hanging uselessly, entirely reliant on the two of you to keep her upright. She draped one arm heavily over Sonnett's shoulder and the other over yours.

"Lily," you called out gently. "Grab your backpack and stay right behind me. Hold onto my jacket."

Lily scrambled off the chair, quickly slipping the blue backpack onto her shoulders, and grabbed the hem of your leather jacket.

"I’ll take point," Miller said, drawing her 9mm. "Let’s move."

Leaving the safety of the locker room felt like stepping back into the nightmare. Miller led the way out of the building, keeping her weapon raised.

"You're doing great, Soph," Sonnett muttered, her voice incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to her earlier aggression. "Almost there. Just keep breathing."

"I'm... trying," Sophia gasped, her head rolling slightly against Sonnett's shoulder. "Hurts like a bitch."

"I know. We'll get doc to fix you right up."

Miller stopped at a metal door set into the concrete base of the massive stadium bleachers. She checked over her shoulder, ensuring you were all there, before pulling out a ring of keys. She found the right one, slotted it into the lock, and turned it.

She pulled the door open, revealing a dark corridor.

"Power's completely out in this section," Miller whispered, pulling a flashlight from her belt and clicking it on. "Stay close. Don't make a sound."

You tightened your grip on Sophia's waist, feeling Lily’s small hand gripping your jacket tightly.

"Ready?" you asked Sonnett softly.

"Ready," she grunted.

You stepped into the darkness.

Miller's flashlight beam swept side to side. For the first ten minutes, the tunnel was clear. The only obstacles were discarded maintenance carts and the occasional puddle of stagnant water.

But as you approached a T-junction that led toward the underground parking garage, Miller suddenly stopped, her hand shooting up in a fist.

The universal signal to halt.

You and Sonnett froze instantly. Sophia let out a quiet, pained whimper as the sudden stop jarred her leg. You quickly shushed her, straining your ears.

From the darkness of the intersecting tunnel to your right came a sound.

*Scrape. Shuffle. Click.*

It was the clicking sound of teeth snapping together.

Miller immediately clicked her flashlight off, plunging the tunnel into darkness.

"They're in the tunnels," Sonnett breathed, her voice trembling slightly.

"Quiet," Miller hissed through the darkness.

The shuffling grew louder. It wasn't just one. It sounded like a small group, dragging their feet across the concrete, their guttural moans echoing off the walls. They were moving toward the intersection, cutting right across your path.

You couldn't see anything.

If the infected turned down your tunnel, you were trapped. There was nowhere to run while carrying Sophia, and firing a gun in this enclosed space would deafen you all and draw every monster in the stadium straight to your location.

You held your breath, the sound of your own heartbeat roaring in your ears, waiting in the dark to see which way the monsters would turn.

*Scrape. Shuffle. Click.*

They were getting closer.

Please don't turn left, you prayed silently. Please keep walking straight.

The dragging footsteps reached the intersection. The sound paused. The clicking grew louder, echoing directly into your tunnel. The thing was standing yards away in the dark.

Then the flashlight clicked back on.

Miller hadn't turned the beam toward the intersection. She had pointed it straight down at the floor, shielding the bulb with her hand so only a faint glow lit up the space around you.

She held up one finger.

One.

There wasn't a group. The echoing acoustics of the tunnel had made the sound deceptive. It was only one infected.

Miller carefully drew her baton with her free hand, leaving her gun holstered. A gunshot would still be disastrous, but a metal baton was quiet. She looked at you and Sonnett and pointed to the wall behind you, signaling you to step back and press yourselves against the concrete.

You and Sonnett carefully shuffled backward, pulling Sophia with you until your backs hit the wall.

Miller stepped forward. She reached the edge of the intersection, the faint glow of her flashlight revealing the edge of the corner.

She took a deep breath, gripped her baton tightly, and stepped out into the intersection, fully turning the flashlight beam onto the infected.

The light hit the creature square in the face.

It was a man wearing a facility maintenance jumpsuit. Half of his face was a ruined, bloody mess, his jaw hanging slack. The sudden bright light seemed to disorient him for a second. He let out a loud, garbled shriek, raising his arms to lunge at the security guard.

Miller didn't hesitate. She stepped forward swinging the baton in a brutal, two-handed arc.

*CRACK.*

The sound of the metal striking the infected man’s skull echoed. The maintenance worker crumpled instantly, hitting the concrete floor in a heap.

Miller didn't stop. She brought the baton down twice more, heavy, sickening thuds that ensured the thing wouldn't be getting back up.

She stood over the body for a moment the flashlight beam illuminating the grisly scene. She looked back over her shoulder at you and gave a sharp nod.

"Clear," she whispered hoarsely. "Keep moving."

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Sonnett met your eyes over Sophia's head.

"Let's go," Sonnett says.

You pushed off the wall, resuming the task of carrying Sophia. As you passed the intersection, you forced yourself not to look down at the ruined body of the maintenance worker. Lily kept her face buried in your jacket, stepping over the puddle of dark blood with her eyes squeezed shut.

The rest of the tunnel was mercifully clear. After what felt like hours, the corridor began to slope upward, the concrete walls giving way to painted cinderblock.

"We're entering the parking garage," Miller whispered, her flashlight sweeping across the area ahead. "The dormitories are directly above us. There's an access stairwell in the back corner."

The garage was largely empty, save for a few abandoned golf carts used by the facility staff. Miller moved quickly, leading you through the rows of concrete pillars toward a heavy fire door marked with a glowing red EXIT sign.

She checked the door handle. "It's locked from the inside," she said, relief washing over her face. "The players secured it."

Miller holstered her flashlight and raised her fist, banging a loud, pattern against the steel door.

*Bang, bang. Bang.* Pause. *Bang.*

Silence from the other side.

Miller banged again, louder this time. "It's Miller!" she yelled, her voice muffled by the thick door. "I have injured! Open the door!"

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the scrape of a deadbolt sliding back echoed through the garage.

The door cracked open just an inch. A face appeared in the gap, eyes wide with apprehension.

"Miller?" a voice asked.

"It's me, Horan," Miller said quickly. "Let us in. I have Sonnett and Smith."

The door swung fully open. Standing in the stairwell was Lindsey Horan, holding a metal wrench like a club. Behind her, you could see a few other players standing on the stairs.

"Soph!" Horan gasped, dropping the wrench and immediately rushing forward.

"We need the team doc, now," Sonnett demanded, her voice cracking as she and you practically dragged Sophia into the stairwell.

"Doc's upstairs," Horan said, moving to take your place under Sophia's arm. "I've got her. Let me take her."

You willingly stepped back, your arms screaming in agony as the weight was finally lifted. Horan and Sonnett began to carefully navigate Sophia up the stairs.

You slumped against the wall wiping sweat from your face. You looked down. Lily was standing right beside you, her small hand still firmly gripping the hem of your jacket.

You had made it.

Miller stepped past you, her hand resting briefly on your shoulder. "Good job," she muttered.

As you followed the group up the stairs, the sound of voices grew louder. You emerged from the stairwell into a wide, well-lit hallway that looked like an upscale hotel corridor. Doors lined both sides, and groups of athletes were standing around, talking in hushed voices.

As you stepped out into the hallway, holding Lily's hand, the conversations abruptly stopped. Dozens of eyes turned toward you. They weren't looking at Sonnett or Sophia they were looking at the stranger covered in dirt, blood, and carrying a gun, holding the hand of a seven year old child.

You stood up straighter.You didn't know these women, and you didn't care about their trophies. You were just trying to survive.

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