The engine didn't start. Arden twisted the key again, cursing under his breath. Nina sat tense in the passenger seat, eyes scanning the surroundings. Finally, the engine coughed to life. As the shadows of New York faded behind them, the broken streets ahead led them straight into the unknown.
"That city's done. A fucking graveyard now."Arden's voice was flat, resolved. Behind them, a burning ghost town shrank in the rearview mirror.
They were crossing into rural territory, the road narrowing and twisting. In the distance, a lone civilian vehicle blocked the path. Arden's foot hit the brake.
"Could be a trap..."But it was already too late.
Four men emerged from the sides of the road, armed with rusty rifles and axes. Arden didn't move, eyes cold as they surrounded the car. One of them, bulkier than the rest, walked up smirking.
"The car, the fuel, whatever you got. It's ours now.""Then come and get it." Arden murmured.
In a flash, his knife pierced the first man's arm. The scream that followed was raw and animalistic. Arden exploded out of the vehicle like a coiled spring, moving with a deadly calm only a trained soldier could possess.
The first man barely had time to react before Arden slit his throat clean. Blood sprayed violently, some splashing across Arden's face. The second tried to raise his weapon but was cut off by a blade driven deep into his chest. Arden felt the warmth of blood trickling down his wrist.
The third collapsed to his knees, begging."Please... don't... We were just trying to survive—"Arden's expression didn't flicker."I don't do mercy."The knife plunged into the man's forehead. Silence fell like a curtain.
Nina had watched without a word. Arden climbed back into the car, hands soaked in blood, face unmoved.
"Are they all dead?""All of them."
An hour later, they pulled up to an old gas station. The windows were shattered, the inside dark and empty. Arden raised his weapon, eyes alert. From the outside, a low growl broke the silence—zombies. At least ten of them, running straight toward the station.
Inside, just as they entered, came the sharp cry of a girl. Two figures sprinted from the back.
One was tall, deadly in her movements, dressed in tight black pants and a short tactical jacket that clung to a body sculpted like a weapon. Her hand gripped a sword with a practiced ease. The other girl was smaller, shy, barely twenty-one or twenty-two, clutching an oily screwdriver, eyes wide with panic.
"Bad timing if you got lost," the sword girl muttered, her voice ice-cold.
Arden lowered his gun slowly, but his eyes stayed locked on the woman. The way she held her sword—there was skill there. Precision. Control.
Then the undead burst in.
The sword girl moved.
In one fluid motion, she severed the first zombie's head. Her blade whirled, singing through the air as she stabbed the second through the gut, spun, and slashed down through a third's skull. Blood sprayed, slicking her skin, but her face remained still—emotionless.
Arden watched, entranced.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked."Name's Kyra. I use a sword. It keeps me alive."The smaller girl spoke next, barely above a whisper."I'm Mia. I... fix things. Circuits, devices, whatever still works..."
When the last zombie fell, the gas station fell into a tense calm. Kyra wiped her blade and sheathed it at her hip. Arden couldn't help but watch her every move—there was power in her silence, a raw beauty in the way she carried herself. That toned body, glistening slightly from the fight, commanded attention.
Nina saw the look in his eyes. Her jaw tightened.
"She's just some sword chick..." she muttered under her breath.
As the night settled in, they gathered in the back of the gas station. Arden cleaned his weapon methodically. Nina sat in a corner, eyes locked on Kyra with a mix of jealousy and suspicion. For the first time, there was a subtle softness in the way she looked at Arden—a flicker of something more than survival.