After his outburst, Kael Voss let out a deep sigh. That girl might be reckless and headstrong, running off without a second thought—but he couldn't just let her fend for herself. In this world, finding someone you could actually trust was no small thing.
Holding up a camp lantern, Kael looked around the room. That was when he noticed: Scout Finch's crossbow, diving knife, and backpack were all gone. She must have taken everything with her.
But the streets were still flooded—knee-deep at best, waist-high in most places. Wading through that kind of water would be no easy feat. How the hell was she planning to get to the Hengrave Tower?
Then it hit him. Kael opened the door and walked down the corridor to a room tucked further in—a place they'd discovered earlier. It used to be a storage room for aquarium gear.
Inside, among the old supplies, there had been three inflatable kayaks. Sure enough, when Kael stepped inside, only two remained. That stubborn girl had dragged one away.
He didn't waste another second. Forget food—he loaded up on weapons and supplies, then hauled one of the remaining kayaks outside. The downpour from the past few days had turned the streets into rivers. Corpses drifted lifelessly in the murky water, their shriveled heads bobbing just above the surface like grotesque buoys.
Kael paddled through the drowned city, his shirt clinging to him with sweat despite the cool air. He crossed five or six streets before reaching a major intersection. Just beyond it, across the road, stood the looming figure of Hengrave Tower.
But as he reached the junction, the scene that met him made his stomach twist. The intersection sat in a low-lying area, and the currents had dragged in a horde of the dead.
The water here was deeper—easily over six feet. In the middle of the flooded crossroad floated an uncountable mass of zombie heads, packed tight as if forming some grotesque raft.
They couldn't swim, of course. But if he tried to paddle through them and they all surged toward him at once, his small inflatable kayak would flip in an instant.
Kael hesitated only a moment. Better to take the long way—no sense in getting reckless now.
Just as he was steering to veer around, he felt the kayak lurch behind him. He spun around to see a small group of undead drifting toward him, carried by the current.
Apparently, the scent of living flesh had drawn them in.
They reached out with shriveled, pallid hands, grabbing at the sides of his kayak. For a ridiculous moment, Kael thought they looked like floating pickled chicken claws.
"Get off!"
No time to hesitate. Kael raised his paddle and slammed it down on a zombie's head, cracking the skull wide open.
But he was just one man, and the dead were all around him. Though stiff-limbed and half-drowned, they didn't need strength—just numbers. The kayak wobbled violently. One hard jolt, and it flipped.
Fortunately, Kael had anticipated this. The instant he hit the water, he held his breath and didn't resurface. Gripping his backpack, he dove beneath the zombies' drifting legs and swam hard toward the nearest building.
Within seconds, his fingers brushed up against a wall. He kicked hard, emerging just beneath a second-floor window ledge. The water level was nearly to the windowsill.
Grabbing hold, he pulled himself up and clambered through into a bedroom.
Dripping and furious, Kael took a moment to catch his breath. The kayak was gone. That meant reaching Hengrave Tower had just become a hell of a lot harder.
"Hahahaha!"
As he stood dripping in frustration, laughter suddenly erupted from the living room. The sound made his blood run cold.
It wasn't just laughter—it was something between a sob and a howl, a ragged, joyless sound that scraped at the nerves. It echoed with a kind of madness that had no place in the world of the living.
Though the sky outside was bright, the chilling cry made Kael feel as if he'd plunged into the depths of hell.
He was no coward, but the sound still made his spine stiffen. With a sharp whisper of metal, he drew the broadsax from its sheath on his back, eyes narrowing toward the door.
The bedroom door was ajar, the space beyond veiled in shadow. He crept up, then barked out, "Who's there? Show yourself—living or dead?"
Another peal of laughter rang out. "Right you are! Haha! You guessed it—I am a ghost! A ghost, hahaha!"
The voice was cracked and hoarse. Kael frowned. It sounded like a person. A person whose mind had shattered.
He slipped the tip of the blade through the gap in the door, then carefully pushed it open.
The stench hit him immediately. He recoiled, one hand going to his nose as light filtered into the room.
There, slumped on the floor of the living room, was a woman. Hair matted and wild, body caked with grime. She didn't look like a person—or a corpse. More like something caught between.
Kael had expected something bad—but this… this was still worse than he imagined.
After a brief hesitation, he asked cautiously, "What happened to you? Is there anyone else here?"
The woman's face was blotched with dark, dried blood. She pointed toward another bedroom, eyes wide. "Hahaha… my husband's still here. He's in there."
Kael's brow furrowed. If her husband was still around, why wasn't he taking care of her? Why leave her like this, babbling and broken?
He stepped to the door she'd pointed at and peered inside.
What he saw made his stomach heave.
He slammed the door shut, retching. Even that didn't block out the smell.
The woman's broken laughter rose again. "He made me do it. Hahaha! He made me do it! Hahaha!"
"Enough!" Kael shouted. Her laughter was beyond unsettling—it was maddening. "Can you speak like a human being for one second? Did you kill him? Is that what happened?!"
The woman flinched at his voice. For a brief second, lucidity flickered in her eyes.
Then it was gone.
She muttered, "I did. I killed him. I killed him…"
Between what he'd seen in that room and her confession, Kael put the pieces together.
They'd likely survived the initial outbreak together. Stayed holed up here for a long time. Then one day, the husband had gone out to scavenge, got bitten, and realized he was infected. He must've begged her to tie him up and put him down before he turned.
And she'd done it.
But afterward—left alone, consumed by grief and horror—she had snapped. A tragedy twisted into madness by this goddamn apocalypse.
Kael exhaled slowly, looking at the woman. "Did you see a young girl—about twelve or thirteen—come through here?"
She stared straight ahead, eyes dull and unfocused. Her mouth moved, whispering incoherent things to no one. She didn't hear him. Or if she did, she wasn't really there anymore.
There was no point pushing.
Kael walked a quick loop through the flat, heading into the kitchen. In one corner, he spotted a small stash of propane tanks—probably collected by the husband before everything went south.
On the stove sat a half-full pot of porridge, long gone cold. The woman had clearly been lucid enough, at least once, to feed herself. Otherwise, she wouldn't have made it this far.
But the rice bin was empty now. And in her state, there was no way she could go out to find more. Once that last bit of porridge was gone, she would die.
Alone.