The city was desolate.
The streets, covered with rubble and the remains of abandoned cars, seemed to whisper echoes of what once was life. Every piece of broken glass, every scrap of paper blown by the cold wind, told a forgotten story. The fog spread like a ghostly blanket, blurring outlines, fading memories.
And amid that mist, footsteps could be heard. Slow. Heavy. Lonely.
A figure emerged from nowhere, advancing as if each movement were a struggle against the world itself.
It was Arika.
She walked with dragging feet. Her clothes were torn, stained with dried blood. The weapon she held in her right hand trembled slightly with each step, not from fear, but from exhaustion. In her left hand, she clutched something even more precious than her own life: a bracelet adorned with small golden butterflies.
Now, those butterflies were covered in blood.
Her gaze... there was no life in it. No hope, no anger, no fear. Just a deep, leaden emptiness that kept her standing by sheer inertia.
With no clear destination, she walked until she reached a partially destroyed shopping mall. The facade, cracked and covered in weeds, looked as if it were about to collapse. From inside, erratic movements could be seen: infected.
Arika saw them, but felt nothing.
With chilling coldness, she raised her weapon and moved forward.
The shots rang out in the solitude of the shopping mall, dry and mechanical. Every creature that crossed her path fell without warning, as if in a silent nightmare. Arika didn't even blink. She moved like a relentless specter, a being that no longer belonged to the world of the living.
She climbed to the second floor, her boots crunching on the remains of a forgotten past. Some grocery stores still had half-empty shelves.
She entered one of them, her footsteps echoing amid the echoes of abandonment.
She searched the shelves. Most were looted, empty like herself. But she didn't stop looking. She forced herself to search. Until she saw something beyond, in the back.
Two figures lay motionless on the floor. They were surrounded by dark patches of dried blood.
Arika approached. Her feet felt like lead, each step heavier than the last.
Both bodies showed the same signs: bite marks on the arms and neck, signs of a struggle, and a single, precise, merciful shot to the head. There was no doubt about how they had ended up.
She knelt beside the first body. She looked at it.
Through the dirt and wounds, she recognized a vaguely familiar face.
—So you ended up like this too... —susurró, casi en un murmullo roto.
It wasn't the same Koen her mind remembered. This one wore different clothes, worn, stained with dust and ash. Still, something in the line of his jaw, in the stillness of his lips, took her back in time.
She blinked, as if the memory hurt.
She didn't really know him. Just a brief exchange of glances in the café where she worked. Never a greeting, never a word. Just a fleeting presence, an image that her memory had quietly stored away.
And now, standing before her, that image had come to an end.
She slowly turned her head toward the second body. Another young man. This one was unfamiliar to her.
—And you... —she murmured, swallowing hard—. I guess you were his friend, right?
Her voice broke on the last word.
She fell silent.
She watched as the bodies almost touched, as if even in their last moments they had tried to protect each other.
—Both of them... protected each other until the end —she whispered, clutching the bracelet tightly.
The cold touch of the bloody butterflies against her skin reminded her of everything she had lost.
Arika closed her eyes. The air reeked of death, of defeat.
—I wish... —her voice trembled, a barely audible sigh—. I wish I had been that lucky.
She stood there for a moment, allowing herself that small collapse. Then, with trembling hands, she picked up a few cans scattered on the shelf and forced herself to get up.
Reality gave no respite.
Leaving the store, she walked toward the mall exit, dragging her soul behind her.
But the world hadn't finished punishing her.
In front of her, a different infected creature emerged from the rubble. Bigger. More grotesque. Its body was an amalgam of rotten flesh and rusted metal. Half of its face was covered by a steel plate, and its right arm ended in a brutal blade.
Arika stopped.
She looked at it as one might look at yet another obstacle on an endless road.
—You know... —she murmured, turning her neck slightly, as if it were stiff—. I'm not myself right now. If you don't want to die, go on your way... and I'll go on mine.
The infected roared. A guttural, furious sound that made the air vibrate.
—Sure... —Arika whispered, sighing—. No one listens, do they?
Next to her, a rusty iron pipe lay on the ground. She picked it up without hesitation.
—I warned you —she said, her voice low, almost a lament.
And she lunged.
The battle was brutal. Cruel. A clash of fury and resistance.
The infected attacked with superhuman strength, its blows kicking up debris and shaking the ground. But Arika was no ordinary girl either. She dodged, blocked, and struck back. Every movement was instinctive, desperate.
—You're not stronger than me! —she shouted, landing a direct blow to the monster's deformed head.
Blood, sweat, and rage. All mixed together in a savage frenzy.
The pipe screeched, bending with each impact. Her body was covered in bruises, cuts, and hematomas, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop.
It was either that or die.
She screamed with all her might, releasing her frustration, sadness, and guilt.
—Why do I always have to keep fighting alone?!— she yelled, narrowly dodging the infected man's blade.
She struck once more. And again. And again. The battle dragged on for what seemed like an endless hour.
Until finally, with a final roar, the infected fell to its knees. Then, onto its side, shaking so hard that it kicked up dust around it.
Arika gasped, staggering.
She dropped the broken pipe, which clinked weakly as it hit the ground.
She approached the corpse, spitting blood.
—I warned you... —she murmured, barely a whisper.
And she kept walking. Step by step, lost again in the fog and destruction.
Until darkness enveloped her.
A sharp pain brought her back to consciousness.
It had been another dream.
She opened her eyes slowly. A cracked wooden ceiling greeted her.
She tried to move. The pain in her left arm made her groan.
—Agh...
She looked down. Clumsy but secure bandages covered her arm. The red of the blood stained the makeshift cloth, but they had saved her life.
She blinked, confused.
Fragments of memory came back in bursts: a figure, hurried hands, a voice shouting at her to hold on.
—Reize... —she whispered, her voice hoarse, barely audible.
She turned her head, moving with difficulty.
And she saw her.
Reize, half reclining against a wall, hugging her backpack as if it were a lifeline. She slept, exhausted, her brow slightly furrowed even in rest.
Arika felt something small and warm growing in her chest. Something she had thought was lost.
A faint, sincere smile crossed her chapped lips.
This time... she had managed to protect what mattered. And that was enough to keep her breathing for another day.