By noon the sun was merciless.
Heat shimmered above the pavement, turning the empty streets into a hazy, wavering blur. The concrete itself seemed to radiate, making the air feel thick and hard to breathe. Ethan kept to the thin strip of shadow along the base of a residential building as he approached the complex entrance.
The old security barrier hung crooked, one end dragging uselessly against the ground. Two security guards lay nearby~or what was left of them. Their bodies had been rotting under the sun for days. Uniforms were stiff with dried blood. Flies rose in lazy clouds when he passed.
He stepped over one of the corpses without slowing and entered Century Skyline.
Once this place had been the kind of complex people paid real money to live in. Now it looked like the end of the world had taken personal interest in it. Broken windows stared out like empty eye sockets. Burned-out cars sat at odd angles. Dark stains spread across the pavement in shapes that no longer looked human. No children. No arguments over parking. Nothing but heat and silence.
Ethan headed straight for Building 30.
Debbie had given him the address before he left. If Daisy was still alive, this was where he would find her. If she wasn’t...
He pushed the thought down and kept walking.
The entrance to the building was dark. The moment he stepped inside, the smell hit him~old blood, thick and sour, clinging to the walls and hanging in the stale air. Bodies lay scattered along the hallway. Some still wore the clothes of residents. Others had decayed past recognition. Every apartment door stood open. Inside, furniture was overturned, cabinets emptied, mattresses ripped open. Whoever had done this hadn’t been looking for one specific thing. They had taken everything.
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
These bastards cleaned the whole building out.
He moved upward. The higher he climbed, the quieter it became. By the time he reached the top floor even the insects seemed to have given up. He found Daisy’s apartment. The door was already open.
Inside, the place had been completely ransacked. Drawers pulled out and dumped. Clothes scattered across the floor. A chair lying on its side. Near the wall he spotted a phone, its screen shattered. He crouched and picked it up. Dead battery. Dried blood along the edge of the glass.
His expression darkened. The last messages were three days old.
Three days.
He clenched the phone once, then set it down.
Please still be alive.
He turned and climbed the final flight to the rooftop. The metal door groaned as he pushed it open. A wave of raw heat slammed into him. The roof was empty except for a few overturned flowerpots, their soil scattered across the concrete. He walked to the edge and looked down.
Dozens of zombie bodies littered the courtyard below. Their skulls had been crushed~not torn, not bitten. Crushed. Someone had methodically cleared the area with blunt weapons.
Organized.
His gaze swept the complex and stopped on the property management building. Two shirtless men leaned against a railing near the entrance, smoking, machetes hanging from their belts. They looked relaxed. Too relaxed.
That’s where they’re holding up.
Ethan turned and started back down the stairs.
He had barely reached the second floor when he heard footsteps~several sets, moving fast~followed by a man’s angry voice.
"Move your fucking ass!"
A woman whimpered.
Ethan stepped into the shadows beside the stairwell, hand settling on the hilt of his sword. The footsteps grew louder. A bald, heavily built man appeared at the top of the stairs, one thick hand locked around a young woman’s arm. He dragged her behind him like she weighed nothing. She wore a torn floral dress. A strip of cloth was tied tightly across her mouth; her hands were bound behind her back. She kicked desperately against the floor, trying to slow him down. Tears streamed down her face.
The bald man stopped and turned on her.
"Move again and I’ll cripple you."
He slapped her hard. The crack echoed down the hallway. Her head snapped sideways. Before she could recover he hit her again. Her cheek began to swell at once. The fight went out of her. Her legs stopped resisting. She simply let him drag her the rest of the way.
Ethan’s eyes hardened, but he stayed where he was. He needed information. Killing the man now would tell him nothing.
The bald man kicked open an apartment door at the end of the hall and threw the woman inside. She landed hard and struggled to push herself upright. He shut the door behind them. Ethan heard the click of a belt buckle, then a low, ugly chuckle.
"Don’t worry. Once I’m done, maybe I’ll give you something to eat."
The man had his back to the door.
He never saw Ethan enter.
The woman did. Her terrified eyes locked onto the newcomer. For the first time since she had been dragged upstairs, something shifted in her expression~hope. She twisted violently against the restraints and made muffled, urgent sounds.
The bald man frowned and turned.
"What? Want another beating?"
He never finished the sentence.
Ethan was already behind him. Two quick steps. The heavy pommel of the sword came down hard against the base of the man’s skull.
Thud.
The bald man’s eyes rolled up. His body swayed, then folded. Ethan caught him before he could make noise and lowered him to the floor. He turned at once to the woman and pressed a finger to his lips.
"Quiet."
She nodded frantically. He tore the gag free. She sucked in a desperate, ragged breath, coughing and choking as tears kept falling.
"Th-thank you."
Ethan glanced at the closed door, then back at her.
"Where are the rest of them? How many?"
Her voice trembled. "Property management office. Ten escaped convicts. Five men from the complex joined them. They help find food and keep watch."
"Fifteen total."
She nodded. "They’ve taken more than forty women. They’re in the community hall, third floor. Two men guard the door."
She grabbed his arm, fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeve.
"Please. Please save us. They beat us every day. Yesterday one of the women..." Her voice broke. She couldn’t finish. "They tortured her until she died."
Ethan was silent for a moment. His eyes moved over her face. Attractive. Probably around a seventy-five on the Beauty Score. The system stayed quiet. No notification. Not a gift target.
He reached into his Space Ability and pulled out a bottle of water and a box of compressed biscuits. He pressed them into her hands.
"Take these. Use the fire escape and head west. Fewer zombies that way."
Her expression changed. "You’re not coming with me?"
"No."
"Then how am I supposed to survive?"
Ethan stood. "I have something else to do."
Disappointment flickered across her face, then settled into something more practical as she looked down at the supplies. In this world a bottle of water and food could mean another day of life. She lowered her head.
"Thank you."
He watched her open the door and hurry away. He waited until her footsteps faded, then turned back to the unconscious man. A solid kick to the ribs brought him around with a grunt. The man’s hand went immediately toward his waist. Ethan’s sword was already resting against his throat.
The color drained from the man’s face.
"Don’t kill me, please!"
"Who are you?"
"Nobody. Just the guy they send to run errands."
"How many of you?"
"T-ten."
"Who’s in charge?"
"Max Cole. Used to run with a crew. He’s got a pistol."
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. "A gun."
"Yeah. He’s the one calling the shots. I’m not lying."
"And the rest?"
"Five guys from the complex joined up. They stand watch and go out looking for food."
Ethan pressed him on the details~when the guards changed, every entrance into the community hall, the layout of the building, exactly where the two men stood. The answers stayed consistent.
When he was done, he looked down at the man. Desperate hope flickered across the man’s face.
"That everything?"
Ethan didn’t answer. He simply swung the sword. A clean line opened across the throat. Blood spilled across the floor. The man’s hands clawed weakly at his neck for a second before the body went limp.
Ethan wiped the blade, took the machete, and stored it in his Space Ability. He dragged the corpse into a corner and covered it with an old sheet.
He was about to leave when he heard new footsteps~fast, multiple, coming up the stairs.
Then a familiar voice, sharp with panic and something else.
"It’s him! He killed the bald guy!"
Ethan’s eyes widened for a single second. Then the realization settled, cold and complete.
She had led them straight here.
He had given her food. Water. A chance to run. And she had traded him for her own safety.
His expression went flat.
So that’s how it is.
He slipped into the apartment next door and pulled the door almost shut, watching through the narrow gap. The woman came into view first, face wet with tears. Behind her were five men armed with steel pipes and machetes. At the front walked a broad-shouldered man with a flat, emotionless face. He grabbed the woman by the hair.
"Where is he?"
She pointed toward the apartment. "In there!"
The man shoved her aside. "Search every room. Find him. Then rip his fucking arms off."
The four men spread out. One opened the first door. Another moved toward the opposite side of the hall.
Ethan counted them. Five targets. No room for hesitation.
The nearest man passed the doorway.
Ethan kicked the door open.
The man turned~too late.
Bang.
The gunshot cracked through the hallway. The man dropped where he stood.
"He’s here!"
The leader roared and charged, machete already swinging for Ethan’s head. Ethan twisted aside. The blade cut empty air. He stepped inside the man’s reach and drove an elbow hard into his stomach. The man folded. A second elbow smashed into the back of his head. The leader stumbled but stayed on his feet.
"Kill him!"
The remaining men rushed forward.
Ethan stepped back and raised the pistol.
Bang.
One man dropped.
Bang.
Another slammed against the wall and slid down.
Bang.
The third crumpled to the floor.
Silence fell in the space of a few heartbeats.
Ethan kept the pistol raised. The leader was still moving, struggling to get up. Ethan walked over. The man reached for his machete.
Bang.
The final shot ended it.
Ethan lowered the weapon. His breathing was steady. His eyes were not. They were cold.
He turned toward the woman sitting against the wall. Her whole body shook. Tears and mucus ran down her face.
"Please," she whispered, raising trembling hands. "Don’t kill me. I was wrong. I was scared. I didn’t want them to kill me."
Ethan remembered the hope in her eyes when he had pulled the gag free. The way she had grabbed his arm. The way she had begged him to save the others. Then he remembered her voice in the hallway.
He’s in that room.
His expression didn’t change.
"You made your choice."
She froze.
He raised the pistol.
Bang.
Her body went limp.
The hallway was quiet again.
Ethan stood among the bodies for several seconds. He didn’t feel good about it. He didn’t feel particularly guilty either. The apocalypse had a way of stripping everything down to its simplest pieces: trust, fear, hunger, survival.
He had learned another lesson today.
Mercy wasn’t always kindness. Sometimes it was just giving someone another chance to put a knife in your back.
He collected the remaining steel pipes, checked the hallway one last time, and turned toward the stairs.
The community hall was still waiting.
So was Daisy.
And if Max really had a gun, Ethan intended to find out exactly what kind of man was holding it.
He started down the stairs. His footsteps echoed through the empty building.
Whatever hesitation he had carried into this place was gone now.
He had come here to find someone.
He wasn’t leaving without her.