The rain had finally stopped, but the city still bled.
Smoke curled from shattered buildings, and the wind carried the stench of decay—old blood, burnt plastic, and something fouler, something monstrous. Derek stood atop the rusted skeleton of a half-collapsed mall, his blades dripping with gore, breath fogging slightly in the cooling air.
Below, the street was lined with bodies—some human, some not. He'd gotten faster. Meaner. Deadlier.
"Safe zone's three blocks west," he told the trembling woman behind him. She was clutching a small boy, blood on her sleeves—not hers, he hoped. "Stick to the walls, don't stop for anything. There's a barrier at the entrance."
She nodded, too afraid to speak.
Derek tossed her a pack of crackers and a small vial of glowing blue. "Eat slow. He drinks half, you drink the rest. That'll keep the fever down."
They ran. Derek didn't follow. He didn't watch. There was no time to waste on relief or gratitude—not anymore.
