"Your parents are zombies. I'm sure of it."
I turned to face her. Mizuki's tone was blunt.
"Stop calling them that," I said, sharper than I meant to. "They're not that. You don't know."
"There's nothing left. Whatever you think they are, they're not coming back."
I clenched my fists. I didn't want to hear this. "You can't just say that. You don't even know them or saw them."
"I don't need to," she said. "They're not your parents anymore. If they're infected, they'll rip you apart the second you get too close."
"Show me then," I said, trying to hold her gaze. "You're so sure prove it."
Mizuki exhaled, like she'd been waiting for that. Without a word, she crossed the room and grabbed something from behind a rusted metal cabinet, a pistol. Well-maintained, matte black, heavy in her hand. Not something you carry unless you're ready to use it.
"You want proof?" she asked, slamming the magazine in with one hand. "Come on."
"Wait," I said. "Why the hell do you have a gun?"
She looked back at me, raising an eyebrow like I'd asked something stupid. "Because I didn't grow up sheltered and because it's this or die."
She lit a cigarette with one hand, still holding the pistol in the other. "Don't worry. I only shoot what needs shooting."
Didn't make me feel better but I followed her anyway.
At the door, she paused and looked me over. "What are you wearing?" she muttered, and before I could answer, she pulled out some outer jacket and tossed it at me.
"Wear it. You'll freeze out there. And I don't feel like dragging a hypothermic idiot through the woods."
I caught the jacket, surprised by the weight of it, smelled like cedar and smoke, maybe blood. She was already outside by the time I zipped it up.
The forest was quiet. Bare branches reached into the pale sky like veins. I stumbled trying to keep up, while Mizuki moved like she'd done this before.
After a while, she glanced over her shoulder. "You always breathe that loud?"
"I'm not used to this," I muttered.
"You better learn fast," she said. "The quiet is temporary."
She led me down a slope until we reached a clearing. Ahead, a half-collapsed house with boarded windows. Fences stacked with junk, wire, rusted chairs, anything to keep things out or, she lit another cigarette and pointed. "You still want proof?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
She looked at me, dead serious. "Then bring me one."
"What?"
"You said they weren't zombies. Prove it. Bring one here alive."
"You're insane," I said.
Mizuki just shrugged. "Or maybe I'm the only one paying attention."
I stared at her. She wasn't joking. I turned and walked down the path, my stomach churning. She was watching, letting me go alone and somewhere behind the trees.
Something moved in the distance, just beyond the trees. I could tell she'd done it on purpose. Mizuki had sent me out here as bait. I didn't know if it was a test or if she really didn't care what happened to me, but the moment I realized it, my body took over before my thoughts could catch up. I started running.
My heart felt like it was going to tear through my chest. Every sound made me jump, branches cracking under my boots, wind slicing through dead leaves. It was cold, and the air burned when I breathed.
I wanted to stop, but fear pushed me forward. I didn't want to die. Not like this, not before I figured out what the hell had happened to the world. Not before I got to say goodbye to Hiyori, even if she wasn't really there to hear it.
Tears blurred my eyes, but I kept moving. There was no time to wipe them away, no point in trying to look strong. I wasn't. I'd been pretending all this time. The truth was, I had no idea how to survive.
I should've stayed alone. That had been the plan. No attachments, no trust, no risk but then Mizuki showed up with her sharp tongue and colder eyes, and for some reason, I followed and now I was running through some godforsaken forest while she watched from a distance like it was all some experiment.
A gunshot rang out somewhere behind me. It echoed through the trees, sharp and final. I froze. My knees nearly gave out from under me, and my breath caught. The silence that followed felt heavier than the sound itself. I didn't know if she was shooting at me or something else, but my brain couldn't even process what to do next.
And then, just as suddenly, a hand gripped my wrist and yanked me back up. I stumbled, almost fell again, but she didn't let go. It was Mizuki. She stood there like she hadn't just sent me running into a nightmare.
Her expression didn't change as she looked at me, just mildly annoyed like I was a slow student who refused to understand the lesson.
"I guess that was my mistake—trying to prove something to a kid," she said, releasing my wrist and stepping away.
I was still shaking, and I hated that she could see it. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked. My voice cracked, and I hated that too.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she pointed to something on the ground. "Look at it," she said simply.
I turned, and I wish I hadn't. The thing lying in the dirt wasn't human—not anymore. Its skin was pale and almost translucent, the veins beneath it bloated and dark. The eyes were dull and milky, mouth slightly open like it had been mid-scream. It wasn't a person. Not a sick person, not a cannibal.
"You still think this isn't real?" she asked, voice flat. "Still think I'm overreacting?"
I stepped back, stomach twisting. "I don't know what that is. It's not—" I stopped myself. "It's not normal."
"No, it's not," Mizuki said. She didn't sound angry, just tired.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you. But you were too caught up in your fantasies to see it."
"Was this a test?" I asked. "Is that what this was?"
"Call it what you want. You wouldn't listen, and I don't have time to coddle you."
"You're a bad person," I muttered.
"Maybe," she said without hesitation. "But I'm alive. That counts for something."
I couldn't argue with that. Not when my hands were still trembling, and my legs barely held me up.
"I get it," I said, quieter this time. "I don't want to die."
Her expression shifted for a second. Something in her eyes softened, but she looked away just as quickly.
"Nobody does. But if you keep pretending this isn't happening, you will."
There was a part of me that wanted to turn around and walk away from her, to prove I didn't need help. But I knew that was a lie. The truth was, I didn't know how to make it on my own. Not anymore.
So I nodded. I didn't trust her, but I didn't have another choice.
"Fine," I said. "I'll go with you."
Mizuki didn't answer. She just turned and started walking, the gun swinging loosely in one hand. I followed, steps slow, heart still racing. The fear was still there. It probably wasn't going away anytime soon but at least for now, I wasn't alone.
***
After the last attack, we kept moving. No time to think. No time to breathe. Just empty roads and gutted houses, the kind of silence that made your ears ring. There were no screams, no infected groans, just the wind pushing through dead grass and broken windows. We didn't talk. I just followed Mizuke who moved like she had a destination. Like she wasn't afraid of anything.
Then we saw it.
A small beige house with a black roof tucked behind a low stone wall. Lights were on, lights. In this dead place? My stomach turned. No one leaves the lights on anymore. Not unless they're asking to die.
"We can't go in," I whispered, grabbing her arm.
She didn't stop. Just glanced at me with that same crooked smirk and kept walking, gun dangling from her hand like it was a toy.
"Why?" she said. "You scared?"
I didn't answer. I should've turned back. Something felt off. The air was too still, too clean. But she kept walking like it was nothing, like this wasn't suicide.
Then she stopped at the door and tapped in a code,
Beep.
Click.
"Wait, how did you—?"
She raised a finger to my lips, silencing me. Then she said, calm as anything, "I own this place."
I blinked. "What?"
No fucking way. This house was new, modern, untouched by everything outside. Nothing about it matched her. Mizuki looked like someone who slept on dirt floors and stole her boots off corpses. But this? This looked like someone's dream life, sealed behind designer gates and solar panels.
She stepped inside.
I followed, the gate creaked shut behind me like it was locking us in.
Inside was perfect, too perfect.
Smooth stone floors. A high ceiling with wooden beams. Sunlight spilled in through the glass balcony, casting gold across the living room. The air was warm, like it hadn't been touched by ash and blood. Then I caught it, something out of place.
Food.
I smelled it before I saw anything. Rice. Garlic. Stew. Fresh. Not canned.
I froze.
"Did you—? Is this some kind of bunker?"
Mizuki didn't respond. She walked straight to the kitchen, set her gun on the counter, and opened the fridge.
"Still cold," Mizuki muttered. "Generator's working."
"You've been staying here?" My voice shook, rising without permission. "All this time, while we were sleeping on floors and hiding from monsters?"
She finally turned to me. "I didn't say I brought everyone here."
Her tone was calm, but something in her expression made me feel colder than the wind outside.
I looked around again. No dust, no signs of struggle. No blood, but still something wasn't right.
"Are we alone?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
"Don't you want to go inside?" Mizuki asked, already stepping over the threshold.
I hesitated. My feet wouldn't move. The house looked too clean, not a single thing out of place. Like the world hadn't ended outside its walls.
"I'm sorry," I said under my breath. For what, I wasn't sure. For hesitating. She flicked the lights on. A cold glow poured across the polished floor, making everything look harsher.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," she muttered, not turning to look at me. "So I'll let that slide."
She walked further down the hall, boots thudding quietly against the floor. Then she opened a door and gestured. "This one's yours. I'll be next door if anything happens."
I stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind me.
The room was normal. A bed with clean white sheets. A lamp, closet, small TV.
All painfully ordinary like a hotel but my eyes locked on the desk, where a laptop sat open, its screen humming softly in the dim light.
I frowned.
It was on.
Not sleep mode. Not blacked out.
I moved closer, heart thudding, and noticed something off.
The Wi-Fi—strong. Stronger than it should be. And there were apps I hadn't seen for a day?
A website was already open.
My throat tightened.
I sat down slowly, hands hovering over the keyboard. Then I typed. Fast. Desperate. Anything. Outbreak. Virus. Attacks. News. Zombies.
Nothing.
No headlines. No official warnings. No government memos.
As if none of it was real.
I tried a forum. One of the old ones. Typed out everything, what I'd seen, what happened to my parents, where we were.
Then I hit Enter.
The screen flickered.
The laptop buzzed, just for a moment. Then a new window popped up. No notifications. No username. Just a blank chat and a single line of text.
𝚂⃫𝚝⃫𝚊⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚠⃫𝚒⃫𝚝⃫𝚑⃫ 𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚛⃫.⃫ 𝙳⃫𝚘⃫𝚗⃫'⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚝⃫𝚎⃫𝚙⃫ 𝚘⃫𝚞⃫𝚝⃫𝚜⃫𝚒⃫𝚍⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚊⃫𝚕⃫𝚘⃫𝚗⃫𝚎⃫.⃫ 𝙽⃫𝚘⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚗⃫𝚘⃫𝚠⃫.⃫ 𝙽⃫𝚘⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚎⃫𝚟⃫𝚎⃫𝚛⃫.⃫ 𝙸⃫𝚏⃫ 𝚝⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚏⃫𝚒⃫𝚗⃫𝚍⃫ 𝚢⃫𝚘⃫𝚞⃫,⃫ 𝚝⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚠⃫𝚘⃫𝚗⃫'⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚝⃫𝚘⃫𝚙⃫.⃫ 𝙻⃫𝚎⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚛⃫ 𝚏⃫𝚒⃫𝚐⃫𝚑⃫𝚝⃫.⃫ 𝚂⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚔⃫𝚗⃫𝚘⃫𝚠⃫𝚜⃫ 𝚠⃫𝚑⃫𝚊⃫𝚝⃫'⃫𝚜⃫ 𝚌⃫𝚘⃫𝚖⃫𝚒⃫𝚗⃫𝚐⃫.⃫ 𝚃⃫𝚛⃫𝚞⃫𝚜⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚛⃫,⃫ 𝚘⃫𝚛⃫ 𝚢⃫𝚘⃫𝚞⃫ 𝚠⃫𝚘⃫𝚗⃫'⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚞⃫𝚛⃫𝚟⃫𝚒⃫𝚟⃫𝚎⃫.⃫ 𝚃⃫𝚑⃫𝚒⃫𝚜⃫ 𝚒⃫𝚜⃫ 𝚘⃫𝚗⃫𝚕⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚝⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚋⃫𝚎⃫𝚐⃫𝚒⃫𝚗⃫𝚗⃫𝚒⃫𝚗⃫𝚐⃫.⃫
What is happening?
I stared at the message. Something about it felt wrong. Like it wasn't just typed.
My fingers moved before I could stop them.
Who are you?
No reply.
Seconds passed. Just the low hum of the laptop and the sound of my breath, shaky and uneven.
Then another message appeared.
Not typed like the first. This one… glitched.
𝙸⃫ 𝚊⃫𝚖⃫ 𝚊⃫ 𝚏⃫𝚛⃫𝚒⃫𝚎⃫𝚗⃫𝚍⃫.⃫ 𝙳⃫𝚘⃫ 𝚠⃫𝚑⃫𝚊⃫𝚝⃫ 𝙸⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚊⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚊⃫𝚗⃫𝚍⃫ 𝚢⃫𝚘⃫𝚞⃫ 𝚠⃫𝚒⃫𝚕⃫𝚕⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚞⃫𝚛⃫𝚟⃫𝚒⃫𝚟⃫𝚎⃫.⃫
A friend?
I swallowed hard but I replied.
You're not making sense.
Still no name. No location. But they knew I was here. They had to.
I typed again, hands shaking slightly.
This is Mizuki's laptop. Do you know her?
𝙸⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚍⃫𝚘⃫𝚎⃫𝚜⃫𝚗⃫'⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚖⃫𝚊⃫𝚝⃫𝚝⃫𝚎⃫𝚛⃫ 𝚒⃫𝚏⃫ 𝚢⃫𝚘⃫𝚞⃫ 𝚔⃫𝚗⃫𝚘⃫𝚠⃫ 𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚛⃫.⃫ 𝙹⃫𝚞⃫𝚜⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚝⃫𝚊⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚌⃫𝚕⃫𝚘⃫𝚜⃫𝚎⃫.⃫ 𝚃⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚢⃫'⃫𝚛⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚌⃫𝚘⃫𝚖⃫𝚒⃫𝚗⃫𝚐⃫.⃫ 𝚃⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚌⃫𝚊⃫𝚗⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚖⃫𝚎⃫𝚕⃫𝚕⃫ 𝚝⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚕⃫𝚒⃫𝚟⃫𝚒⃫𝚗⃫𝚐⃫.⃫ 𝚃⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚍⃫𝚘⃫𝚗⃫'⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚝⃫𝚘⃫𝚙⃫.⃫ 𝚃⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚍⃫𝚘⃫𝚗⃫'⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚝⃫𝚑⃫𝚒⃫𝚗⃫𝚔⃫.⃫ 𝚃⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚓⃫𝚞⃫𝚜⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚏⃫𝚘⃫𝚕⃫𝚕⃫𝚘⃫𝚠⃫ 𝚝⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚌⃫𝚎⃫𝚗⃫𝚝⃫.⃫ 𝚂⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫'⃫𝚜⃫ 𝚢⃫𝚘⃫𝚞⃫𝚛⃫ 𝚘⃫𝚗⃫𝚕⃫𝚢⃫ 𝚌⃫𝚑⃫𝚊⃫𝚗⃫𝚌⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚗⃫𝚘⃫𝚠⃫.⃫ 𝙸⃫𝚏⃫ 𝚢⃫𝚘⃫𝚞⃫ 𝚜⃫𝚝⃫𝚛⃫𝚊⃫𝚢⃫,⃫ 𝚢⃫𝚘⃫𝚞⃫ 𝚠⃫𝚘⃫𝚗⃫'⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚖⃫𝚊⃫𝚔⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚒⃫𝚝⃫ 𝚝⃫𝚘⃫ 𝚖⃫𝚘⃫𝚛⃫𝚗⃫𝚒⃫𝚗⃫𝚐⃫.⃫ 𝚂⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚔⃫𝚗⃫𝚘⃫𝚠⃫𝚜⃫ 𝚝⃫𝚑⃫𝚎⃫ 𝚠⃫𝚊⃫𝚢⃫.⃫ 𝚈⃫𝚘⃫𝚞⃫ 𝚍⃫𝚘⃫𝚗⃫'⃫𝚝⃫.⃫
The breath caught in my throat.
I barely knew her but some part of me already relied on her. Maybe because I had no other option. Maybe because it was safer to pretend someone else had a plan.
I thought about my parents, the way they were dragged into the forest, their screams swallowed by the dark.
I should've been taken too.
Instead, I was here. In this flawless house. With a man I didn't know. And a voice in a machine telling me to trust her.
I started to type again, but before I could finish, the screen blinked.
User Offline.
Gone.
The silence hit harder now. I could feel the walls breathing around me, the weight of the air pressing against my chest.
None of this made sense.
Who was that? Why did they sound like they knew me? And how did they know Mizuki?
Unless,they weren't just watching. They were inside this. Planning it.
I pushed the laptop away, pulse hammering. My reflection flickered faintly on the black screen.
Then, just as I stood up, preparing to leave the room, the cursor blinked.
Then a new line appeared, slow. Like it was being typed right in that moment.
Take care of yourself.