[Win – School Grounds – 10:05 a.m.]
The air turns sharp, like knives on my skin.
A storm's rolling in, clouds choking the sun.
Palm's weight drags on my shoulder, his blood soaking through my torn shirt.
His arm is a mess with deep gash, red blood seeping through the cloth I tied earlier.
We're halfway to the back gate, and moans trail behind us, low and hungry, clawing at my nerves.
My pipe's slick in my hand, heavy with sweat and fear.
"Keep moving Palm," I whisper, voice cracking.
Palm's steps falter, his crowbar dangling.
His face is pale and eyes half-shut.
"It's Cold," he mutters, breath fogging in the sudden chill.
Cold? It was burning an hour ago.
The weather's turned wrong, it's like the world's breaking.
[10:10 a.m.]
Wind howls, biting my face.
Palm is shivering his good hand clutching my arm.
He's slowing, his legs stiff, like the cold's freezing his bones.
"Win… I can't feel my feet," he says in thin voice.
Is it the gash? The cold?
A shadow lurches, it's Basic, shambling from a classroom.
I swing my pipe and crack its jaw.
It drops, but the moans don't stop.
More are coming.
I pull Palm toward a doorway, shelter from the wind. He stumbles and nearly falls.
"Stay with me Palm... please," I beg, my throat tight.
[10:15 a.m.]
We duck into a stairwell, walls smeared with blood and dust. Palm's shaking now, teeth chattering.
His arm's bleeding worse and cloth soaked.
I rip another strip from my shirt, wrap it tighter.
"You're okay," I lie, same as before.
His eyes meet mine, soft but fading.
"Win… don't let me—"
"Shut up," I snap. "You're not dying. I won't let you die even if I have to sacrifice myself."
A wail cuts through and this time it's a Screamer, close. Its cry splits my head, sharp as the wind.
I grip my pipe, ready, but Palm's frozen, leaning against the wall.
He can't move.
Not now.
[10:20 a.m.]
The moans grow louder, feet dragging outside.
I peek through a cracked window.
I count, Basics are five or maybe six I can't clearly see all shuffling toward us.
The wind's screaming, dust stinging my eyes.
Palm's breath is shallow, his body slumped.
I shake him. "Palm, we gotta go."
He tries to stand, legs buckling.
"Its too cold," he whispers, voice barely there.
I sling his arm over my shoulder, half-carrying him.
His crowbar clatters to the floor.
I leave it.
We have no time.
[10:25 a.m.]
A roar shakes the sky.
Its Helicopters.
Three black in colour, blades slicing the storm clouds.
They hover over the rooftop, where Kao and the others are.
A rope ladder dangles.
"They're leaving," I choke out, heart sinking.
Best promised we'd stick together.
But they're gone.
Abandoning us.
Something falls from one helicopter, small, twisting, hitting the ground hard.
Someone.
I can't see who.
My stomach lurches, thinking of Dean's fall.
[10:30 a.m.]
A boom rips the air.
The main gate explodes, flames licking the sky.
Soldiers swarm in, rifles glinting, moving fast.
" Military is here," Palm whispers, voice weak.
Rescue us? Or something worse?
The moans surge, Basics closing in.
I drag Palm toward a dumpster, hiding us in its shadow.
His body's heavy, cold as the wind.
"Stay quiet," I hiss, pipe raised.
A Basic shuffles past, eyes empty.
I hold my breath, Palm's blood warm on my hands.
[10:35 a.m.]
The helicopters are gone.
Kao. Best. Namtan. FahFah. Jack. Emily gone.
Kao's "Naïve" truth burns in my mind.
ans someone who fall from the helicopter who was it?
Palm's eyes flutter, his hand gripping mine weakly.
"Win… I'm sorry."
"For what?" I snap, voice breaking.
"For slowing you down."
I shake my head, tears burning.
"You're all I've got left now."
Lin's smile. Dean's fall. Kao's whisper.
It's just us now.
[10:40 a.m.]
The wind howls louder.
Rain starts to spit.
The Basics are closer, drawn by the explosion.
Palm's too cold, too still.
I can't carry him much longer.
The sky flashes white, blinding.
Thunder rolls across the ruins.
Then I hear it.
A new sound.
Not moans. Not wind.
A growl.
Deep. Wet. Wrong.
It echoes from the alley ahead something bigger than a Basic.
Something waiting.
I grip my pipe, breath shaking.
And as the first lightning bolt hits the gate,
a shadow steps into view.
Not human. Not dead.
Something in between.
And it's looking straight at us.