CHAPTER 3(iv)
Scarlett's POV – Present
There's something about the quiet that's too quiet.
I keep my blade close—habit now. Not fear. That passed days ago. What's left is instinct. Steel doesn't shake in your hand when it becomes part of you.
The office smells of dust, coffee gone sour, and people too tired to care. Most try to sleep, but I watch the door, watch the windows, watch the ones pretending not to look scared.
Then the shouting starts. Two floors down.
"They're leaving! Just like that?"
"They'll get us killed!"
The voices climb. Accusations. Begging. Cowardice masked in anger.
I hear someone mention me.
"She's the one with the blade. Thinks being quiet makes her dangerous. I call it hiding."
Someone laughs.
Another voice cuts in. "You'd shut your mouth if you saw her fight."
"I saw it. Just flailing with a knife, pretending she's not scared like the rest of us."
My grip tightens.
Then there's movement.
Fast.
Grey.
He doesn't speak. He doesn't warn.
He walks past me—just a glance—and my blade is in his hands.
He moves with it in stride, walks straight into the noise. The idiot who called me out doesn't see it coming. Grey moves like shadow—low, sure. The blade sinks into the man's friend's eye before the others even react.
Then chaos.
Someone lunges. Jane screams—then throws a sharp kick into the man's ribs, knocking him back. Luke tackles another, fists flying. I snatch up the leg of a broken chair, gripping it like a club.
The man who insulted me rushes, but I swing. Wood cracks against his shoulder. He stumbles back into a desk.
It's over before it spreads too far. Blood and bruises. A few of theirs hit the floor. The rest back off.
Everyone's watching now. Silent. Breathing hard. Ashamed or afraid, I can't tell.
Grey hands me the blade.
No words.
Just blood.
---
Luke's POV – Present
Later that night, we hear them.
A group of five. Office people, probably. Whispering plans. They think they can make it out two blocks down. Less infected there, they say. Streets might be clear.
They go.
They scream.
Two blocks isn't far when the city's this quiet.
We listen to them die. One by one.
No one tries to help.
No one speaks.
Jane sits beside me, knees to her chest. Scarlett leans on the window ledge, eyes unmoving.
"You okay?" I ask.
Jane nods. "No."
"Same."
Scarlett glances back at us. Then away.
"You think they ever had a chance?" Jane whispers.
"No one does," I say.
Then: "Grey thinks we're all dead already. We're just choosing when."
Scarlett hums, almost a laugh. "He's not wrong."
Jane sighs, brushing hair out of her face. "You think we'll get to one of those safe zones?"
"Honestly?" I shrug. "Not unless we move smart. Fast."
"Then we should stop fighting each other," Jane mutters, glancing toward where the earlier brawl took place. "That was reckless."
"But it needed to happen," Scarlett says quietly. "Or people would keep testing us."
The radio hisses. It's past four when it crackles again.
The voice is calm. Confident.
"We repeat: Safe sectors have been confirmed and are being reinforced. Former hotel zones are being repurposed into containment and shelter facilities. If you can reach Sector 9, 11, or 14, medical support and security are guaranteed. We advise coordinated movement. Avoid isolated routes. This is not the end—this is the response."
A few cheers. Most just stare.
One man slams his fist against the wall. Another cries into his sleeve. A woman prays.
I look at Scarlett. Then at Jane. Then toward the far side of the room where Grey stands, arms folded, looking out the shattered blinds.
He doesn't turn when the woman approaches him.
She's tall. Clean enough to still care about appearance. Her voice is honey with a bite.
"You're the quiet one," she says, smiling. "Dangerous's always quiet. You're dangerous, aren't you?"
He doesn't respond.
She touches his arm. "You guys moving tomorrow?"
Grey looks at her hand. Then at her.
Then says, "Don't."
She laughs, a little embarrassed. "Okay, rude."
He walks away.
Scarlett watches it all without blinking.
We sleep in shifts. I take second watch with Blair.
By dawn, the hallway's full of tension. Some people glance at us with fear. Others look like they want to follow.
Scarlett adjusts her pack. Jane secures her boots.
"You ready?" I ask.
Scarlett nods. "Always."
We push open the office doors. The city breathes out dust and silence.
We don't look back.