The Phantom's engine purred to a stop just on the edge of a half-collapsed overpass, its once-proud structure now crumbling and overtaken by vines and dust. Dean and Jill stepped out, the heat of the sun casting long shadows across the broken streets. The area ahead was quiet, too quiet, save for the distant groans echoing off the abandoned buildings.
Dean pulled out his binoculars and scanned the area. "Almost desolate," he muttered, before his eyes narrowed on movement. He pointed toward a half-shaded alley. "Let's start with those over there—five of 'em."
Jill squinted, spotting the group of slow-moving zombies shuffling aimlessly near a wrecked delivery truck. She immediately raised her compact submachine gun with both hands, her posture stiff and awkward.
Her finger twitched near the trigger. "Like this, right?" she asked, nervous but determined.
Dean couldn't help the smirk that crept across his lips. "Not bad... but let me help."
He stepped behind her, placing one hand on her waist and the other adjusting her grip. "You're holding it too tight. Loosen up—control comes from stability, not panic." He guided her hands into place, his breath brushing against her ear as he leaned in to whisper, "There you go."
Jill's heart thudded hard in her chest. His hand on her shoulder, the calm in his voice, the closeness—it was almost too much. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink. She glanced up, and for a moment their faces were inches apart. Her breath caught, and Dean's eyes locked with hers.
Just as their lips nearly met—ROOOOAAARRR!
The zombies had noticed them.
Dean instantly stepped back, raising his rifle. "Showtime," he said, voice cool and sharp.
Jill, still flustered but now fueled by adrenaline, aimed her weapon. She pulled the trigger. The recoil jolted her, but her shots found their marks. The SMG rattled out a spray, clipping two zombies while Dean dropped the other three with precise headshots.
After the chaos settled, Jill breathed heavily, wiping sweat from her brow. "Did I… actually hit some of them?"
Dean gave her a nod. "You did good."
They approached the building the zombies had been lingering around—an old office tower partially collapsed but still standing. As they stepped inside, Jill walked close to Dean, still slightly shaken, her face red from the encounter earlier—not just with the zombies, but with Dean.
Dean noticed her blush and didn't say a word, just gave her a glance and a small smile before leading the way further into the building, rifle raised.
This mission was supposed to be a simple scouting run—but for Jill, it had become something more. Something personal.