Three hours later, inside Chicago Memorial Hospital, Ethan leaned against a cracked window frame, watching the grey skyline flicker with distant fires painting the horizon in shades of amber and crimson.
"So let me understand this correctly," Emily Miller said, her voice sharp with disbelief. "You went to the airport alone and brought her back with you?"
It wasn't that Emily didn't trust her brother—she trusted him with her life. But she also knew him better than anyone. Fighting was one thing. Surviving through thousands of zombies from their apartment complex all the way to O'Hare Airport? That bordered on suicidal madness. And somehow recruiting a new survivor along the way? That defied all logic.
"Ma'am, he's... really strong," Rachel Carter offered cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper. She stood beside Ethan, carefully avoiding Emily's penetrating gaze. This sharp, intelligent woman who carried herself with such natural authority made Rachel distinctly nervous.
Ethan shot Rachel a brief glance—half warning, half reassurance—before turning back to face his sister. "It's... hard to explain," he said finally, forcing a casual smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But trust me when I say I've got everything under control."
Emily raised one elegant eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smirk. "Since when did my little brother start keeping secrets from me?"
Ethan scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's not like that. There's just... things I can't really talk about right now. Not yet."
Emily's expression softened immediately. She stepped forward, reaching up to brush dust and debris from his shoulder with sisterly affection. "Fine. You've grown up, I get it. Just promise me you'll be careful, okay? I can't lose you too." Her voice caught slightly on those last words.
For a moment, Ethan's chest constricted painfully. His sister had always been his anchor, his grounding force—even now, especially now, when the entire world had collapsed into nightmare and chaos.
"Tell me something," Emily said, changing the subject as she glanced toward the hospital's shattered main lobby. "Why choose this place specifically?"
Ethan exhaled slowly, his mind shifting into tactical focus. "Several reasons. The medical equipment is still mostly intact, which gives us a massive advantage. We're close enough to downtown that food and supply runs are feasible. But more importantly—" He pointed out the window toward the eastern distance. "—there's a police precinct exactly half a mile east. If we can reach it and secure the armory, we'll have access to proper firearms and ammunition. There's also a water treatment facility about a mile north, which means we can establish access to clean, drinkable water. In the apocalypse, that's worth more than gold."
Emily nodded slowly, impressed despite her initial skepticism.
"So here's the plan," Ethan continued, warming to the subject. "We secure this immediate area first—make the hospital our primary base of operations. Once we've established complete control here, we expand systematically, block by block, until we hold the entire city center. With enough time and resources, we could make downtown Chicago livable again."
Emily crossed her arms, a proud but fiercely determined glint sparking in her eyes. "Then let's get to work. You have my full support."
Ethan's smile was genuine this time. "Thanks, sis. But you should rest first—today's been absolute hell for everyone."
As Emily walked off to find one of the hospital's upper wards with hopefully working plumbing, Ethan turned back to face the dim, blood-stained hallway. The incessant moaning outside hadn't stopped for a moment. He hadn't cleared the front buildings yet—hundreds of zombies still roamed freely between the ambulance bays and the emergency room parking lot.
He opened his survival interface with a thought. A blue, translucent display materialized before his eyes—invisible to everyone else. His points counter glowed steadily: 497. That represented over five hundred confirmed kills, most accumulated during his truck rampage through the airport horde earlier today.
Then something unusual caught his attention. Rachel's name appeared listed underneath his own stats—and she'd somehow earned points as well.
"Wait... she gets points too?" he muttered under his breath.
A system notification appeared in response:
[System Notice: When a follower's loyalty exceeds 80, their kills grant the host 50% of earned points. At loyalty rating 90 or above, all points are fully shared.]
Ethan's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "So Rachel's loyalty is already above 80 percent?"
He glanced toward her, still standing quietly by the doorway, clutching her rifle with white-knuckled determination. She looked nervous and exhausted—dark circles shadowed her eyes—but her gaze held something fundamentally steady. Trust. Absolute, unwavering trust.
"Hey," he said softly, drawing her attention. "You did really good out there today."
Rachel blinked in surprise, then a faint smile ghosted across her tired features. "Thank you, sir."
Ethan chuckled warmly. "Drop the 'sir.' Just call me Ethan from now on."
Her expression brightened visibly—a rare and precious thing in this world drowning in death and decay.
Outside, the sun dipped below the broken skyline, painting the ruined city in shades of crimson and shadow. The dying light caught the hospital's shattered windows, reflecting distorted images of their small group—a man with impossible abilities, his resourceful sister, and a survivor who'd chosen to believe in them when belief seemed impossible.
Ethan tightened his grip on his rifle, feeling its familiar weight settle into his hands. "Alright," he murmured to himself. "Chicago Memorial is ours now. Tomorrow morning, we start clearing the east wing systematically."
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