Chapter 6

Daisy's POV

I heard that familiar voice snap out an order.

The sound reached my ears. That voice was stiff and flat, no inflection at all.

Sounded like a drill instructor barking orders at new recruits.

It pulled me out of my wandering thoughts.

Someone asked him where he was going.

His voice dropped, and he said, "You all get going. I've got something to grab."

Something to grab.

The phrase drifted slowly in my head, and a dull gloom settled over me.

I knew that something was me.

Before long, the closet door was yanked open.

He stood in the doorway, that familiar smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, Daisy." He grinned. "Even looking like this, you're still quicker than everyone else."

I glared at him.

If I could speak, I would've snapped back.

He crouched down, untied the knots on the blanket, and wrapped it around me again.

He bundled me tight like a caterpillar, my arms pinned to my sides.

"Can you understand me? Nod if you can, and I'll take you with me."

"Did you read the survival guide the base sent out? It said early-stage zombies lose their minds completely."

"But you're different. Looks like you've still got something going on in there."

He leaned closer, slipping back into that careless, reckless attitude I remembered.

One corner of his mouth lifted, and that small sharp canine on his right peeked out.

For a moment, it was as if I’d gone back to school.

I could almost feel myself slipping back into those carefree, easy days.

He saw me zone out and frowned.

"Don't tell me you've gone dumb on me. Hey, look at me."

I heard Carter speak up again. "Tell me—come with me or not? Back to the base, they might be able to fix you. Dr. Vance at the research center, he knows this stuff."

"Or do you want to stay here?"

Anyone who doesn't want to die wants to live.

That thought snapped me back.

I nodded, hard.

My neck was looser than it had been the past few days.

The movement sent a faint ache up my spine.

For the first time after turning, that rigid locked feeling softened a little.

He grinned, flashing that canine, and nodded back.

Then he hoisted me onto his shoulder like a rolled-up rug and walked out.

I bounced against his shoulder, cheek pressed to his jacket.

This carry was ridiculous and rough, no gentle support at all.

"All right, we're moving." He said, "Funny how things go. Circle all the way around, and I still end up carrying you."

I didn't want to respond.

I rested my head on his shoulder and played dead.

I kept my eyes half-lidded.

If I hadn't turned, this awkward haul would've made me sick.

Who carries a zombie like a sack of goods?

That was when I truly noticed his breathing.

His breathing was steady, not even winded.

No gasping, no sweat.

He had cleared this whole building alone and barely expended any energy.

He didn't climb floor by floor—he just leaped over whole flights of stairs.

Each jump jostled me, the stairwell blurring past.

No ordinary human could pull this off.

My slow brain landed on one word: evolved.

That survival guide he mentioned—the base had sent it out.

I wasn't the only one who got the warning that day.

In my office, Lena wasn't the only one who'd turned.

The disaster had been foreseen.

Someone had seen this coming all along.

That thought slammed into my head, and I shuddered.

I realized something else, too.

The future wasn't going to get better.

It was only going to get worse.

Maybe he was done with the stairs.

At the third floor, he took me out the window and landed solid.

Wind whipped across my face during the short drop, and the impact rolled calmly through his frame.

My face was pointed out, so I saw the sky.

Gray and heavy, hanging low.

I hadn't seen the sun in so long.

Strange bright streaks flickered high above the rooftops without pattern.

The courtyard below wasn't tidy anymore.

I glanced around. Zombies littered the ground, dried blood streaked the walls.

The plants were coated in gray dust, lifeless.

The survivors were packed into the last little patch of open ground.

They pressed close together, some of them shaking.

Their faces were streaked with dirt and tears, caught between terror and relief.

People who fought over supplies days earlier ignored old grudges now.

A voice came through the radio in the distance.

"Alpha Squad, Hank Morris reporting—Bayview Apartments Building B, all clear."

"Alpha Squad, Ezra Finch reporting—Bayview Apartments Building C, all clear."

"Alpha Squad, Jamie Cortez reporting—Bayview Apartments Building D, all clear."

My head turned slowly as I listened to the team call each building clear one by one.

Then his voice rang out right by my ear.

"Carter Raines reporting—Bayview Apartments Building A, all clear."

I shifted where he carried me over his shoulder.

He gave his name into the comms.

There was a quiet authority in his voice.

Oddly enough, that simple announcement settled the crowd.

Tension slipped from their shoulders.

I heard crying, soft at first, then louder.

I watched them as people grabbed each other, calling out names.

No one had been left behind.

A hollow, sad feeling settled in me.

They had hope and each other.

But I had no idea where my future lay.

Only the shoulder I leaned on felt steady beneath me.

Not long after, my awareness started to fade.

Everything turned fuzzy, sounds growing distant.

My vision blurred bit by bit.

I heard a few people walk over, saying "oh my god."

Scattered words drifted into my ears: rescue, supplies.

Then I lost consciousness.

I drifted off and dreamed.

I dreamed about school.

I dreamed of my school days. Sunlight slanted through classroom windows, and the room hummed with teenage chatter.

A new boy walked in, unruly and fearless.

In less than a day, he was the most-watched guy in the whole school.

In less than a month, every teacher had given up on him, just sighed when they ran into him in the hallway.

He skipped detentions and pulled pranks; no teacher could rein him in.

Later, he became my deskmate.