The mutated dogs lunged like hungry shadows. There were more than twelve of them, their thin bodies covered in black, peeling skin that oozed pus in places. Their eyes gleamed with a sick light under the dim gray sky. They were not large, but radiation had made their fangs longer and sharper, and their savage instincts stronger. The scent of fresh blood flowing from Kaizen's shoulder pulled them in like a magnet.
Kaizen raised his long knife in his right hand, while his left arm hung almost useless due to the deep wound reopened by the axe hours earlier. Lira stood beside him, gripping the axe with both hands. Her body trembled from cold and exhaustion, but her eyes burned with hatred and desperation.
"Don't run," Kaizen said in a low, hard voice. "If you run, they kill you first. Fight at my back."
The first dog leapt straight for Kaizen's throat. He twisted aside with difficulty, but its claws struck his wounded shoulder. Pain exploded through him, nearly blinding him, yet he drove the knife into the side of its neck. The blade sank deep, thick black blood spilling over his hand. The dog collapsed, twitching—but two more attacked immediately.
Lira swung her axe with all her strength. It struck one in the back, breaking bone with a dull crack. The creature howled, then spun and sank its teeth into her leg. She screamed, but raised the axe again and brought it down on its head until the skull split open, spraying pus and brain across the dry ground.
Kaizen fought with cold brutality. He stabbed one in the eye, then ripped the blade free and dragged it across another's belly. Mutated gray entrails spilled onto his feet, stinking of rot and radiation. Teeth pierced his right thigh, and he slammed his knee into the dog's chest until ribs snapped, then stabbed its throat twice in rapid succession.
Blood poured from his wounds—old and new—soaking the ground and making his footing slick. Exhaustion weighed on him, hunger twisting his stomach again. But he did not stop. Stopping meant becoming food.
"Stay close!" he shouted at Lira as she struggled against two at once.
She struck one in the shoulder, but the other leapt onto her back and bit into her shoulder. She cried out and fell to her knees. Kaizen hurled his knife. It buried itself in the dog's side. The creature howled and staggered. Kaizen rushed forward, yanked the blade free, and ended it with a stab through the eye.
Seven dogs lay dead now. The rest circled more cautiously, growling with distorted voices. The smell of blood filled the air, driving them madder.
Then—
They attacked all at once.
Three leapt onto Kaizen. One clamped onto his injured arm, and he felt bone strain under the pressure. He roared in anger, slashing wildly. He severed one's ear, then drove the blade into another's gut. Blood and pus sprayed across his face. The second locked onto his leg, and he stomped it hard until it yelped. The third lunged for his neck—but Lira struck it from the side, shattering its spine.
Lira bled from several wounds now. Her face was pale, her breathing broken—but she did not retreat. She raised the axe again and struck down a dog creeping behind Kaizen. It dropped dead, but the axe stuck in its bones.
"Pull it!" Kaizen shouted.
She tried—but another dog attacked, biting deep into her thigh. She screamed and fell. Kaizen rushed in, stabbing the creature repeatedly in the neck until it stopped moving. Then he tore the axe free and handed it back.
"Up! Stay down and you die."
She forced herself up, blood pouring from her leg. They fought side by side—Kaizen stabbing and tearing, Lira swinging with what strength remained. Blood coated them both. Pus clung to their ragged clothes.
Finally—
The last dog fell.
Silence.
The entire pack lay dead—twisted bodies in pools of black blood.
Kaizen stood there, gasping, his body shaking from pain and exhaustion. He looked at Lira. She sat on the ground, pressing her thigh wound with trembling hands. Tears streamed down her blood-covered face—but she did not scream.
Kaizen dropped beside her. He took a clean strip of cloth and bound her wound tightly. Then he treated his own shoulder and leg. The bleeding was heavy. His vision blurred.
"We die if we don't find a place to treat this," he said calmly. "Infection kills faster than blades."
He scanned the area. The small valley he had aimed for was near. He stood with effort and helped her up. She leaned heavily against him. He did not complain. She was useful—for now.
They reached the valley after an hour of painful movement. Black shrubs grew between the rocks, and a small stagnant pool sat nearby. Kaizen tested the water with cloth. It didn't discolor much, so he boiled some over a small fire made from dry wood.
"Sit."
Lira sat. He tore her shirt around the thigh wound. It was deep—flesh torn open. He cleaned it with boiling water. She screamed from the pain. Then he crushed leaves from the black shrubs and applied them. They burned—but prevented infection.
"You live at least two more days," he said, binding it.
Then he treated himself.
His shoulder was worse—flesh open, bone partly visible. He cleaned it with difficulty, nausea rising from the smell. He applied the leaves and bound it tightly.
They sat beside the small fire, eating from the stolen cans. The cold meat tasted metallic—but it was better than hunger.
Silence stretched.
Then Lira spoke.
"I was with them… the Flesh Eaters. They took me two months ago. Killed my family in front of me. Used me… every night. I thought about dying every day. When I saw you kill him… I felt hope for a second. But you don't believe in hope… do you?"
Kaizen looked at her coldly.
"Hope kills faster than radiation. I saw my father sell me for bread. I saw my mother dragged away screaming. I saw men kill brothers for boots. There is no hope. Only calculations. You are useful because you fight. If you become a burden… I leave you."
She smiled bitterly.
"I know. This world doesn't forgive weakness. But I'll stay useful. I'll fight. I'll steal if needed. I'll kill."
Kaizen said nothing.
He believed her.
He saw the same darkness in her eyes that lived in his.
They slept in turns. Fever crept in. Wounds throbbed.
At dawn—or what passed for it—
Kaizen woke to footsteps.
He rose instantly, knife ready.
Three men approached. Axes. Sacks.
"Thieves," one whispered. "They robbed the camp."
The fight began immediately.
The first swung at Kaizen. He dodged barely, then drove the blade into his stomach and slit his throat.
The second charged Lira. She struck his shoulder, shattering bone. He fell screaming. She crushed his skull.
The third circled—smarter. He smashed Kaizen's back with a metal pipe. Kaizen fell face-first, vision gone white. The man raised the pipe—
Lira jumped him from behind.
Bit his neck.
Stabbed him with a small knife.
Again.
Again.
Until he stopped moving.
She stood over him, shaking, blood on her mouth.
Kaizen looked up from the ground.
"Good," he said simply.
She helped him up.
They took weapons. Food. And something else—
A small pouch of white powder.
Medicine.
"This will help," Lira said, applying it to their wounds.
They sat again by the pool.
Light crept over the horizon.
"Where now?" she asked.
Kaizen looked west.
"The Towers. Metal. Food. Maybe shelter. But long road. They'll hunt us."
Then, coldly:
"If you slow me… I leave you."
She looked at him.
Then smiled.
"I'll do the same."
Kaizen laughed—a short, rough sound.
"For once… that's fair."
They stood.
Kaizen carried the bag.
Lira took the axe and knife.
They walked west—bleeding, broken—but alive.
In the distance, faint shouts rose.
The hunt had begun.
Kaizen didn't look back.
He walked.
And the woman who had been a stranger yesterday walked beside him.
In this world—
Alliances are born in blood.
And they die in blood.