The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
The only sounds were their restrained breathing and the baby’s soft, steady breaths. Morning light filtered through the curtains in thin gray bands, painting long stripes across the floor where blood had dried into dark, stiff patches. The metallic scent still hung in the air, mixed with the faint rot drifting in from the hallway outside.
Ethan glanced at Debbie.
Her ears were still faintly crimson. Whatever awkwardness had been hanging between them after the night’s chaos slowly faded into the stillness. She sat against the wall with Nina cradled carefully in her arms, the soft weight of the baby rising and falling with each quiet breath. Exhaustion lined her face, but her eyes were clear.
He pushed himself to his feet.
His right leg still ached, a deep, lingering soreness that reminded him of the potion’s brutal work. The moment he put weight on it, his eyes narrowed.
It was much better than he’d expected.
He moved it carefully. Flexed his knee. Shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The joint answered without the sharp, grinding pain that had been there the day before. Still weak. Still sore. But it held.
The Recovery Potion really works.
His gaze swept across the apartment.
Blood stained the floor in dark, irregular patches. The metallic stench hung thick, mixed with the smell of rot drifting in from outside. The original owner’s meager belongings lay scattered. It was no place to stay.
"The smell of blood is too strong," Ethan said quietly. "We need to leave."
Debbie looked up immediately.
There was a flash of hope in her eyes, followed by something more determined.
"Come to my place."
She spoke quickly, almost afraid he’d refuse.
"It’s cleaner than here. And there’s more space."
She adjusted Nina in her arms before continuing, her voice low and steady.
"Being alone is too dangerous now. Your leg isn’t fully healed, either. I can keep watch while you recover."
She hesitated. Her fingers tightened slightly around the baby.
"I have Nina with me, and I..." Her voice dropped. "I need someone who can protect us."
Ethan studied her.
Living with a beautiful woman in the middle of the apocalypse came with risks. It also came with opportunities. Debbie was already a high-value target according to the system. Keeping her close would make future gifts easier.
But he couldn’t let himself get careless.
He looked at her pale, delicate face. Dark circles sat under her eyes. Her hair was still tangled from the night. She looked exhausted, but there was a stubborn strength beneath it that refused to break.
"You’re not worried about inviting a wolf into your home?"
His tone was half-joking, testing.
Debbie’s body stiffened slightly.
But she didn’t look away.
"You’re not that kind of person."
Her voice was quiet but firm.
"Yesterday, you gave me the milk powder without asking for anything in return. You pulled us inside when the zombies came. You put yourself between us and that thing on the stairs without thinking twice."
Ethan stared at her for a moment.
Something about that resolve surprised him. Most people in this world would have locked the door and pretended not to hear.
"Alright."
He grabbed a few pieces of clothing from the original owner’s belongings and stuffed them into his backpack. He also slipped the fruit knife into his pocket, the weight of it familiar against his hip.
The two of them approached the door.
Ethan listened.
Nothing.
The hallway was silent except for faint, distant growls somewhere below, the kind that never fully stopped.
Debbie held her breath and waited several seconds before slowly lowering the latch.
The moment the door opened, the stench hit them.
Rot.
Old blood.
Death.
It rolled in like a physical weight.
"Quick."
Debbie stepped into the hallway first, Nina cradled securely against her chest. The soft fabric of her pajamas still clung to the curves of her body, but her focus was entirely on the child.
Ethan followed.
His right leg still ached with each step, but with every careful movement it felt stronger, the potion’s work settling deeper into muscle and bone.
They moved carefully down the hall.
When they passed Morgana’s apartment, Ethan glanced inside through the half-open door.
The place was a complete mess. Drawers pulled out. Clothes scattered. Empty.
Debbie kept her voice low.
"She left last night. She went outside with a tall man carrying a gun."
"Mhm."
Ethan barely reacted.
A scheming bitch worth only a five-times return.
Her leaving was probably for the best.
One less headache.
Debbie glanced at him, clearly surprised by his lack of reaction. The Ethan she’d heard about from the neighbors had practically worshipped Morgana. That man seemed to be gone. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt a small, unexpected sense of relief.
She pointed toward the stairs.
"This way."
They had barely stepped onto the stairs leading to the second floor when—
"Hoo-urrgh!"
A guttural roar exploded from above.
A figure burst from the shadows near the landing.
A security guard.
Or what was left of one.
Half his face had rotted down to the bone. One eye socket was empty and black. One leg twisted at an unnatural angle as he dragged himself forward with terrifying, uneven speed. The smell hit them first—thick, wet decay that made the stomach turn.
Then the claws.
Filthy fingers slick with dried blood tore through the air toward Debbie.
She was holding Nina.
There was nowhere to run.
"Ah!"
Debbie froze, body locking up as the zombie lunged.
Ethan moved.
Not because his leg was fast.
It wasn’t.
Because of the training he’d kept up for years just to stay sharp.
His left hand slammed into Debbie’s shoulder, shoving her and Nina hard toward the wall. At the same time he stepped forward into the creature’s path.
Pain shot through his right leg like a hot wire.
He ignored it.
His hand went to the fruit knife.
He drew it in one clean motion.
Pfft!
The blade drove straight into the zombie’s intact eye, all the way to the hilt.
Black blood and gray brain matter burst from the wound in a wet spray.
"Rrraaagh!"
The zombie screamed and clawed wildly at him, nails scraping across Ethan’s shoulder and the side of his face.
Ethan didn’t let go.
He twisted the knife deeper and drove his weight forward. His left elbow came up and crashed into the zombie’s jaw with a sharp, solid crack.
Bone snapped.
The zombie’s scream died instantly.
Its body twitched once before collapsing backward onto the stairs in a heap of rotting limbs.
Silence.
The whole thing had taken barely two seconds.
Fast.
Precise.
Ruthless.
Exactly what he’d been trained to do.
Debbie stood frozen against the wall.
Her face had gone pale. She stared at Ethan, eyes wide.
Blood covered one side of his face in a dark smear. His breathing was heavy, chest rising and falling, but his expression remained calm. Almost cold.
He pulled the knife free with a wet sound and wiped the blade against the zombie’s uniform.
The sudden burst of movement had aggravated his right leg. The pain was worse now, a deep throb that pulsed with his heartbeat.
But it also confirmed something.
That potion didn’t just heal the damage. My body is recovering fast.
He glanced up the staircase.
Then down.
Nothing moved.
"Let’s go."
His voice was low.
Debbie finally snapped out of it.
She nodded quickly and followed, still holding Nina tightly against her chest. The baby had woken from the commotion, but surprisingly she didn’t start crying. She just stared with wide, dark eyes.
Debbie couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d just seen.
The way Ethan moved.
The way he didn’t hesitate.
The way he put himself between her and the zombie without thinking twice.
For the first time since the Apocalypse began, Debbie felt like she wasn’t completely helpless.
They reached the second floor.
Debbie unlocked her apartment and pushed the door open.
The difference was immediate.
A faint smell of disinfectant replaced the stench of blood and decay. The apartment was spotless. The floors were clean. The furniture was neatly arranged. The windows were clear of dust. In the corner of the living room sat a clean wooden crib with a soft blanket folded inside.
It almost looked like the Apocalypse had never happened.
"You can sleep in the second bedroom."
Debbie pointed toward the short hallway. Her voice still trembled slightly from the adrenaline.
Ethan nodded.
His eyes wandered around the living room.
Then stopped.
A small desk sat against the far wall.
Several papers were spread across it.
The top one was a pregnancy ultrasound report, the black-and-white image of a tiny form still clear. Underneath it was something else.
A divorce agreement.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
The husband’s name had been violently scratched out at the signature line, the pen strokes deep and angry. A few dried tear stains remained on the paper, faint brown circles that had soaked into the fibers.
He glanced at the date.
One week after the ultrasound.
He didn’t need anyone to explain what had happened.
Cheated on while she was pregnant. Divorced. Raising a baby alone in the Apocalypse.
His gaze shifted toward Debbie.
No wonder her Rarity is 99.
She’d poured everything she had into her daughter.
"Her name is Nina."
Debbie’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Her eyes followed his gaze toward the desk.
"Her full name is Nina Miller. She’s one year old."
She walked over and quietly folded the divorce agreement before placing it inside a drawer. Her hands were steady, but her shoulders carried a quiet weight.
"My husband got involved with his secretary when I was eight months pregnant."
There was no anger in her voice.
No tears.
Just exhaustion that had settled deep into her bones.
She closed the drawer with a soft click.
"Thank you for the infant milk."
She looked at Ethan sincerely, dark eyes meeting his.
"Nina slept much better after drinking it."
Ethan nodded.
"Just helping each other out."
That was all he said.
...
The next five days passed quietly.
Ethan focused on recovering.
The remaining effects of the Minor Recovery Potion continued working through his body, knitting muscle and bone stronger with each passing hour. By the fifth day, his right leg had completely healed. No more lingering ache. No more weakness when he put his full weight on it.
He’d considered using another potion to speed things up even further.
In the end, he didn’t.
Medicine was too valuable in the Apocalypse.
Wasting something that could save his life later wasn’t worth a few extra days of waiting.
On the morning of the sixth day, Ethan and Debbie finished a simple breakfast of rationed biscuits and water.
Ethan put down his bowl.
"I’m heading out."
Debbie looked up, the soft curve of her body still wrapped in a clean set of pajamas she’d changed into days ago.
"Going outside?"
"Yeah. I’m going to look for food."
Her eyes widened.
"But your leg..."
"It’s fine."
Ethan stood and moved his right leg several times, rotating the ankle, bending the knee. No pain. No weakness. Nothing.
He was back to normal.
"I’m going to check WestMart Supermarket. It’s a little farther from the complex."
He adjusted his backpack, the fruit knife already secured at his side.
"We’re running low on food. We need fresh supplies."
His eyes moved toward Nina, who sat on a clean blanket nearby, chewing on a soft toy with quiet focus.
"And I need to find something nutritious for you two. Nina can’t live on milk powder forever, and we’re running low."
Debbie’s expression tightened. Her hands folded together in her lap.
"That’s too dangerous."
She lowered her voice.
"That supermarket was looted days ago. There are supposed to be mutant rats all over the place."
"Don’t worry."
Ethan cut her off gently but firmly.
"I’m prepared."
His voice wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
There was no hesitation in his eyes.
Debbie stared at him.
She remembered what he’d done to the zombie five days ago.
The speed.
The precision.
The complete lack of hesitation when the claws came for her and Nina.
Whatever she wanted to say died on her tongue.
The Apocalypse didn’t care how dangerous something was.
If you didn’t fight for your survival, you died.
Debbie finally nodded.
"Be careful."
Ethan walked to the door.
His hand rested on the handle.
Then he looked back.
"Keep the door locked."
Debbie nodded, pulling Nina a little closer against her soft chest.
"No matter who knocks, don’t open it."
"I won’t."
Ethan opened the door.
The hallway was silent.
He stepped outside and closed the door behind him with a soft, final click.
Then he started walking.
WestMart Supermarket was waiting.
And Ethan had no idea what was waiting for him there.