The switchblade still dripped black blood when Marcus finally caught his breath. His lungs burned as if he had swallowed embers. The grunts of the mutant beasts echoed a few blocks away, but the hooded man—Kain, as he had introduced himself—didn't seem willing to stop.
"Faster, damn it!" he shouted, dragging Marcus into a narrow alley between two collapsed buildings. "They can smell fresh blood from a mile away."
Marcus stumbled over a decomposing corpse. The body was unrecognizable, but the fine wristwatch exposed on the bone still worked. How does anything still function in this place?
Kain stopped abruptly, shoving him against the wall. His blue eyes—cold as ice—scanned the street.
"Two minutes. That's all we have." He took a deep breath and pulled out a bottle filled with a strange liquid. "On my signal, you run toward the building with the red sign. Understood?"
Marcus didn't have time to answer.
A howl tore through the air.
Two monsters rounded the corner, moving like spiders, their limbs grotesquely disproportionate. Kain didn't hesitate. He hurled the bottle toward the aberrations. It shattered on the ground, and the strange liquid ignited instantly, engulfing them in flames. Their bodies writhed, burning.
"Now!"
Marcus ran. His feet pounded against the cracked asphalt, each step a knife digging into his exhausted muscles. The red sign—Grand Hotel Imperial—hung from a single hook, creaking in the breeze like a sinister warning.
Kain overtook him, kicking in the rusted door.
"Inside. Now!"
The interior was pitch black, thick with a stench worse than the outside—a mix of mold, urine, and something sickly sweet that made Marcus gag.
"What is that?" he asked, covering his nose.
"Human flesh." Kain flicked on a flashlight, revealing piles and piles of gnawed bones in the corner. "The first months were hell. Survivors eating each other."
Marcus fought the urge to vomit.
Kain grinned, revealing teeth too sharp for an ordinary man.
"Welcome to the new world, kid."
He led Marcus to a basement where someone—maybe him?—had set up a makeshift fortress. Empty food cans were stacked in towers, homemade weapons lay scattered, and a city map covered in red marks hung on the wall.
"Sit." Kain tossed him a half-empty water bottle. "Drink slow. If you puke, you don't get more."
Marcus drank while studying the mysterious man in front of him. Kain was lean but wiry, his muscles defined under a battered black jacket. Circular scars dotted his skin—too perfect to be cigarette burns.
"Who are you?" Marcus asked. "Military?"
"Ex-doctor." Kain wiped Marcus's blade with a dirty rag. "Worked in the city's virology lab. Until the day this plague spread. I have my doubts it was an accident."
Marcus's eyes widened.
"On purpose? Why would anyone want to end the world?"
Kain laughed, a humorless sound.
"You really think this shit was a coincidence? This virus was engineered. No question. And we're the test subjects."
"By who?"
"The Pure." Kain lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard. "A cult of fanatics. Believed the world needed to be 'cleansed.' Only the virus... changed. Got out of control."
A chill ran down Marcus's spine.
"Why did you save me?"
Kain locked eyes with him.
"Because you're on their list."
"What list?"
Before Kain could answer, a noise echoed outside.
They had barely settled in when heavy knocking shook the door.
Kain killed the flashlight in one smooth motion.
"Not. A. Sound," he whispered.
The knocking continued. Three hits. A pause. Two more.
"Code," Kain murmured, relieved. "Stay here."
But Marcus didn't obey. He followed silently to the ground floor.
The door was slightly ajar. Outside, three figures in filthy rags clutched machetes. Not mutants—humans.
"Kain." The leader of the three nodded. "You got our payment?"
"Here." Kain tossed a backpack full of cans. "Now get the hell out."
The man opened the bag and grinned, revealing rotten teeth.
"Not enough."
"That was the deal."
"Now it's double." The raider raised his machete. "Or we take the new guy, too."
Marcus froze. How did they know about him?
Kain sighed.
"Last chance. LEAVE."
The leader spat on the ground.
"Here's my answer, you son of a—"
The gunshot was deafening.
The raider's head exploded in a spray of dark red, splattering the walls already stained with past horrors. Marcus felt something warm and wet hit his face—human blood, not the black ooze of the infected.
Kain was already moving before the body hit the ground.
"Fall back!" he ordered, shoving Marcus behind a pile of stacked furniture.
The other two raiders reacted with animal speed. One swung a rusted machete that glinted in the dim light as it arced toward Kain's neck.
Marcus moved on instinct. His body acted before his brain could process the danger. He grabbed a broken iron bar from the floor and—
CRACK
The sound of metal meeting skull echoed through the room. The iron bar vibrated in his hands. The man's caved-in skull seemed to grin at him—first human kill, but not the last.
The raider dropped to his knees, eyes rolling back. The third man froze, staring between Marcus and Kain with fresh terror in his eyes.
"You..." He choked, pointing a trembling finger at Marcus. "You're Subject NINE."
Kain didn't hesitate. Another revolver shot. The last raider fell backward, a perfect hole between his widened eyes.
The silence that followed was worse than the gunshots.