The front door slammed against the wall as Jon burst into the house, his kitchen knife raised. Icarus entered a heartbeat behind him, the broken mop handle clenched tightly in both hands.
Both of them froze.
The living room had become unrecognizable.
The coffee table lay overturned in the middle of the room, one of its legs splintered clean off. A chair rested on its side near the staircase, while broken glass glittered beneath the morning light spilling through the curtains.
Fresh blood stained the white tiles.
Near the center of the room stood a young woman no older than twenty. Long black hair clung to her face, damp with sweat. Her breathing came in uneven gasps as both hands gripped a pistol so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
Smoke still curled lazily from the barrel. The young woman seemed in a daze, her gaze focused on the floor.
Jon's heartbeat slowed at the sight of a gun. This wasn't the feeling he had on the tracks. This was pure fear and helplessness.
For one brief moment, he'd thought the shots had come from the security personnel, or perhaps the police had interfered.
Or, just someone with authority.
Instead… it was just another survivor.
"D-Dinah…" A weak voice called out.
The young woman with the pistol flinched, and she shifted to the strangers. Without hesitation, she raised the pistol and aimed it at the strangers.
"Don't. Move." The pistol didn't waver.
Jon lifted his knife in surrender and spoke calmly.
"We…We're not infected."
No response.
The young woman didn't bat an eye and didn't put down her gun.
Jon raised his hands higher, "We live here."
The girl tilted her gun to point, "So did he."
Only then did Jon notice what was shot at. A corpse lay before her.
An old man.
His eyes remained open, one arm stretched toward the kitchen, and a bloodstained knife rested only inches beyond his fingertips.
Two dark stains spread steadily beneath his chest, and blood pooled beneath the body.
He wasn't moving.
Another silence settled over the room, leaving only the slow hum of the ceiling fan that filled the house.
The young woman tightened her grip around the pistol.
For several long seconds, the duo didn't dare move.
Jon's face grew pale as his gaze fixated on the fallen man. The aged face…he recognized it immediately. From the small family portrait he saw when he entered the house, an old couple with a little girl.
This man was the old man in the picture, the husband to the old woman he killed.
However, what seemed to hit him more was his looks. There were no milky eyes, no dark veins, and no broken limbs.
There was nothing.
Just...a dead human being.
Pain and deep regret washed across his face. Before it could transform any further, Icarus lowered the mop and hurriedly called out.
"Your… friend."
The young woman then turned over. Without hesitation, she lowered her gun and moved to assist.
"Trudy, are you alright?" Her face was filled with worry.
"I'm fine," Trudy whispered.
Jon snapped out of it and shifted to the final person in the house.
This young woman sat slumped against the wall, one hand pressed tightly over her left shoulder as blood seeped steadily between her fingers. Her face had turned frighteningly pale, and her breathing was weak.
Still, she was conscious, but it was unknown for how long that would remain.
Trudy, lost on what to do, finally looked toward them, tears gathering around her eyes.
"Help!"
The single word snapped Jon back to reality. He hurried across the room, not before giving a final glance at the corpse and crouching beside her.
"She was stabbed," Dinah explained, her voice trembling.
Jon nodded, his eyes already fixed on the blood staining Trudy's shoulder. "I'm going to have to look at the wound," he said. "But first, we need to lay her down."
Dinah hesitated only briefly before nodding. She didn't know whether Jon had any medical training, but at the moment, he was the only one who seemed to know what to do.
Jon turned to Icarus.
"Search the house. There should be a first-aid kit. Bring clean towels, water... anything."
Without another word, Icarus disappeared into the kitchen.
Jon crouched beside Trudy.
"Keep pressing on it," he said gently. "Don't lift your hand until I tell you."
Trudy gave a weak nod, teeth clenched against the pain.
Jon looked at Dinah. "Ready?"
Together, Jon and Dinah carefully supported her to her feet and guided her into the kitchen. They laid her gently across the large dining table.
"Sorry..." Jon picked up a kitchen knife and carefully cut away the fabric around her shoulder, exposing the injury.
He took a slow breath.
The blade had struck just below the collarbone and carved across the outer shoulder before slipping free. Blood had soaked through most of her shirt and her shoulders, nearly covering everything.
It looked frightening.
But...
Jon leaned closer and realized. "It didn't go all the way in."
"What?" Dinah asked immediately.
"I don't think it hit the bone."
His fingers hovered near the wound without touching it.
"And it didn't hit any important vitals."
He looked up, hope flickering in his gaze.
"That's good."
Before anyone could ask another question, hurried footsteps approached. Icarus had returned carrying a white plastic first-aid box beneath one arm, two bottles of water, and several folded kitchen towels.
"I found these."
Jon accepted it and opened the box. In it were bandages, sterile gauze, antiseptic, medical tape, plasters, and a pair of small scissors.
He let out a quiet breath.
"This should be enough."
Dinah blinked, "...Enough?"
Jon nodded, "The bleeding looks worse than it is."
He looked toward Trudy.
"It's deep...but not as deep as I first thought."
Relief flickered across Dinah's face.
Jon soaked a piece of gauze with clean water and began washing away the blood surrounding the wound.
Trudy hissed sharply through clenched teeth. Slowly, the blood disappeared, revealing a long, clean slash across the shoulder.
It had missed anything vital.
'She is lucky, very lucky.' Jon thought as he reached for the antiseptic.
"This is going to sting."
Before Trudy could respond, he poured it over the wound.
She sucked in a sharp breath, and her body tensed violently. One hand gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.
Tears gathered around her eyes and fell, and her lips trembled.
"Icarus. Cover her mouth with the cloth."
"What are you doing?" Dinah asked, narrowing her eyes.
"If she shouts, the zombies will hear," Icarus said and moved over to cover her mouth.
Jon quickly dabbed the wound dry with fresh gauze before pressing clean dressing over it.
"Hold this."
Dinah immediately took over, applying steady pressure while Jon proceeded and wrapped a bandage around Trudy's shoulder several times, securing it firmly without restricting blood flow or breathing.
After checking that the bleeding had slowed, he finally tied it off.
"There! It's over now."
As if waiting for those words, Trudy gave a long exhale. Dinah also sighed in relief and grabbed hold of the hand of her sister, whispering some words.
Jon added, "It'll hurt a lot. So don't move your arm unless you have to."
Trudy nodded and mouthed a word of thank you before focusing on her sister.
The room fell silent once more after Trudy drifted into an exhausted sleep. Dinah never let go of her hand even then.
Jon leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at his bloodstained hands.
'I hope this doesn't become normal.'