Jason stepped out of the makeshift dressing room, a corner behind a torn curtain that barely covered the space, adjusting the black button-up shirt he had chosen from the few intact pieces. The sleeves were rolled up to mid-forearm, revealing defined forearms, and the dark tailored pants fit snugly enough not to hinder movement, yet elegant in a way that contrasted with the apocalyptic state of the world outside. On his feet, he wore the best pair of sneakers he found in the store—a simple and comfortable black-and-white pair.
It had been almost an hour since they entered the clothing store. After talking a bit and checking the place to make sure it was safe, he decided to take advantage of the opportunity and filled the rest of his backpack with clothes in the same style he was wearing now—the kind of pieces he considered most comfortable, even if they were a bit too classy for a post-apocalyptic world. When he finished, he decided to change as well and put on something better than the clothes he had worn throughout the entire week he had spent in this world. And that brings us to this moment: the instant he had just finished getting dressed.
He gave an ironic smile when he noticed he was wearing much larger sizes than in his previous life, a direct consequence of the more muscular body he now possessed. Not that he was complaining. Putting that aside, he stopped walking and turned his gaze to his new girlfriend…?
Maggie was with her back to him, absentmindedly browsing a rack of women's shirts. Her body was tense, but when she turned upon hearing his movement and saw him, her face softened into a small, almost shy smile, her green eyes scanning him from head to toe without trying to hide it. That dark hair of his, those honey-colored eyes, that flawless white skin, and that handsome face drew a lot of attention, but his extremely muscular body—which was literally "perfect"—became even more highlighted by the clothes, filling her with desire…
"So… what do you think?" Noticing her gaze, he asked while slipping his hands into both pockets of his pants.
Hearing the question, Maggie bit her lower lip for a second, a subtle blush rising to her cheeks.
"You look really handsome…" She took a step closer, her eyes shining with something beyond a casual compliment: "That style really suits you…"
The smile grew—gentler, more intimate.
"I like it…"
Jason smiled lightly.
"I'm glad you liked it and didn't think it was weird…" He gave one last quick glance around the interior of the store, as if making sure he wasn't forgetting anything important, before turning to Maggie: "And you? Did you find anything you liked?"
Maggie slowly shook her head, still wearing that small smile on her lips, but already shifting her attention back to the reality outside.
"I don't need clothes right now…" she replied. "What I have at the farm is enough. And honestly… I think I'm more worried about what comes next than about what I'm going to wear."
The two stayed quiet for a second. The sound of the dead banging on the front glass door was constant now—a dull, irritating drumming that reminded them they weren't safe inside; at any moment the dead could break in and both of them would be in danger.
Maggie turned her face toward the sound, frowning.
"And now?" she asked, her hand already instinctively moving closer to the stock of the shotgun. "Do you still want to grab anything here?"
Jason shook his head, already bending down to pick up the backpack from the floor.
"No. I already got what I needed." He slung the strap over his shoulder and looked around. "Is there any exit here that isn't that front door?"
Maggie nodded toward the back of the store with her chin.
"Normally these clothing stores have a back exit. It leads to the stockroom, and the stockroom almost always has a door to the alley or the side street." She hesitated for a moment. "It might be locked, though."
"Let's find out."
Jason was already walking toward the back, without unnecessary haste. Maggie followed right behind, quickly adjusting the shotgun on her back. As she passed the counter where they had left some things, she picked up the bag of medicine and the machete that belonged to him, holding both items for a second before extending them toward him.
"Don't you want this back?"
Jason looked at the machete, then at her, and shook his head.
"You can keep it for now, Maggie. As you saw earlier, I can handle myself just fine without it… Hm?"
At the end of his words, he murmured thoughtfully and crouched near a fallen rack, picking up a metal bar that once held hangers—thick enough, with one slightly crushed end—and tested its weight in his hand. It wasn't a katana or a fireman's axe, but it would do to clear a path if needed.
Maggie raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She simply held the machete in her hand while tying the medicine bag to the shotgun strap and kept walking.
The two reached the metal door that led to the stockroom. It was one of those sliding doors, with tracks on top and bottom, and an industrial padlock running through the handle.
Maggie made a move to look around.
"There must be a key somewhere… cash register, manager's drawer…"
Jason didn't wait. He stepped forward, gripped the metal bar firmly with both hands, and brought it down hard on the padlock. The first strike made the metal screech loudly. The second shattered the chain like it was aluminum foil. He pulled the door upward with a short grunt; rust and time made it resist, but it gave way.
Maggie let out a low, almost incredulous chuckle.
"Those muscles aren't just eye candy, huh?"
Jason turned his face to her, one corner of his mouth lifting in a crooked smile.
"Of course not. I'm pretty strong—I already told you, didn't I?"
He pushed the door the rest of the way open, letting the morning light in. The alley was narrow, full of wet cardboard boxes and overturned trash cans, but empty. No groans, no shuffling feet. Just the wind rustling a few plastic bags caught on the fences.
Maggie ducked under his arm, stepping out first, looking both ways down the street that opened right after the alley. It was a secondary street that led straight to the center of the small town—old houses, a small square in the distance, crooked lampposts. Fortunately, that part seemed to have been forgotten by the dead. At least for now…
She looked back, waiting for him to come out too.
Jason closed the metal door behind him—not that it would do much good, but it was habit—and stopped beside her, adjusting the backpack.
The two stood there for a second, just breathing the cold street air.
Maggie turned her face to him, her voice lower now, almost just for the two of them.
"Where to now?"
Jason took a moment to answer.
"We need to decide whether to head straight back to the farm… or try to go to the library I wanted to visit. I know it's a terrible situation for this, after everything we just went through, but I really need to get there…"
Maggie frowned immediately. She didn't say "no," because saying no to him was starting to feel… far too difficult. The kind of difficult that didn't come from fear, but from a feeling she still hadn't properly named—or perhaps already had, but refused to say out loud. Though doubts still lingered in her heart, the way he spoke seemed far more important than anything else. She tilted her head slightly, like someone trying to fit a piece that doesn't seem to belong in the puzzle.
"Library?" she repeated, her voice low, almost in a mild scolding tone: "Jason, we just got out of a store swarming with walkers banging on the door… and you want to go to the library? I know you like books, but… now?"
Jason let out a short breath through his nose, looking at the ground for a second before raising his honey-colored eyes back to her.
"It's not just because I like to read," he began, his voice calm but firm. "I have a photographic memory. Like… literal. I see a page, a blueprint, a diagram, anything, and it stays recorded. I don't forget. Ever. And my brain… let's say it processes information in a way most people can't. What takes others years of study takes me days. Sometimes hours, if I'm really focused."
Maggie blinked slowly, as if trying to decide whether he was joking or if he had hit his head at some point she hadn't seen.
"Wait. Are you saying… you're some kind of genius?"
Jason shrugged, a small, almost embarrassed gesture.
"I don't like that word. But yeah, if we're being technical, yes. I'm a genius, and knowledge is the most valuable thing there is. Weapons break, ammunition runs out, food spoils. But what you know? That stays with you. Always." He paused, looking straight into her green eyes. "If I can get books on medicine, basic engineering, agriculture, how to build things… how to properly purify water, how to identify edible and poisonous plants… I can multiply everyone's chances of survival at the farm. Not just mine. Yours too. Your dad's, Beth's, Otis's… everyone's."
Maggie stayed quiet for a few seconds, absorbing it.
Jason tilted his head, and one corner of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. Before she could say anything, he asked: "I know it's hard to believe. Want me to prove it?"
Maggie narrowed her eyes.
"Prove what?"
Jason raised his hand in a small gesture, as if proposing a game.
"Ask me anything. First aid. Something you think only someone who really studied would know. I read that book of your dad's, remember? Even though it was a week ago…"
Maggie opened her mouth to say "I don't need that."
But she didn't.
Because the truth was that she wanted to understand him.
He crossed his arms, thinking quickly. Although she wasn't a doctor, she had helped her father enough on the farm to know some things.
"Alright. Suppose someone gets a deep cut on the forearm. The radial artery is bleeding heavily. What do you do first, in exact order, and why?"
Jason didn't hesitate for even a second. The answer came out as if he were reading a manual inside his head.
"First: direct pressure. Place the palm of your hand or a clean cloth—the cleaner the better—right over the bleeding point and press hard. Don't lift to look, don't ease up to check if it stopped. Keep pressing without stopping. If the cloth soaks through, put another one on top, but never remove the first one, to stop the flow before the person goes into hemorrhagic shock."
He continued without pause:
"Second: elevate the limb above heart level, if there's no suspected fracture. It reduces arterial pressure at the site. Third: if the bleeding doesn't stop with direct pressure after about ten minutes, apply a tourniquet. Two fingers above the wound, tighten until the spurting stops—it's going to hurt like hell, but it saves the life. Note the time you applied it, because after two hours the risk of losing the limb increases a lot. Fourth: stabilize the patient, keep them lying down, legs elevated if no head or spine trauma, cover them to prevent hypothermia. Fifth: urgent evacuation to someone who can suture or perform a transfusion, because they'll need blood and surgery…"
Maggie stared at him, mouth slightly open. It wasn't just the precision of the words. It was the naturalness. As if he had done it a thousand times, even though she knew he hadn't. He had only read her father's book… and still learned it as well as he had! If that wasn't incredible and a little frightening, she didn't know what could be. It seemed like a superhuman learning ability. After all, she had never heard of anyone who learned things that fast!
"…Wow," escaped her, almost a whisper.
Jason shrugged again, as if it were no big deal.
"I told you my brain is really good…"
Maggie slowly lowered her arms. Her gaze changed. It was no longer just admiration or desire—there was something deeper there now. She took a deep breath, looking toward the main street where, at the far end, you could see the municipal library building between the trees.
"Alright…" she said, her voice firmer now, though still carrying a worry she couldn't hide: "Let's go to the library. If you can really learn as fast as you say, it's going to be very useful for the world the way it is now…"
Jason nodded…
"Like I said before, you have to be optimistic."
He extended his free hand to her—not to pull, just to offer. Maggie looked at his hand for a second, then firmly interlaced her fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. It was a small gesture, but it made her heart beat a little faster…
The two began walking side by side down the empty street, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly against the old house facades. The weak morning sun hit their backs, and the cold air carried a distant smell of decay, but they didn't talk much and simply enjoyed the walk, as if they were a real couple—even though the environment did nothing to help them enjoy it…
The secondary street opened onto a wider main one, with closed stores and abandoned cars blocking parts of the way. Jason spotted the first walker before she did—a tall man, what remained of a torn police uniform on his rotting body, slowly dragging his feet toward them. He gently released Maggie's hand, taking the metal bar.
"Stay behind me…" he murmured, voice low.
Maggie nodded, already holding the shotgun, but didn't shoot. Noise would attract more. Jason advanced quickly—two long steps—and swung the bar in a wide arc. The impact hit the walker's skull with a wet crack, dropping the body onto the asphalt like a bag of trash. He didn't stop to check; he knew it was dead.
Farther ahead, near the corner leading to the library, another appeared. This one was smaller—a woman with tangled hair and empty eyes, moaning softly. Jason repeated the motion, more precise this time, the bar sinking into the temple with enough force to make the body fall without a sound.
Maggie watched with her heart in her throat, but not from fear. It was admiration mixed with something warmer, seeing how he moved—fluid, strong, without hesitation. He wiped the bar on a pair of abandoned pants on the ground and came back to her, taking her hand again as if nothing had happened.
They turned the corner, and there it was: the municipal library building, a low red-brick structure with dust-fogged windows and a slightly crooked sign out front.