New York, Manhattan Island. Around 7:15 in the morning.
The silence of the street was suddenly shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps, followed immediately by the guttural howls of the undead, interspersed with the panicked screams of men and women.
Liam, whose aching lip had kept him tossing through the night until he finally drifted off, shot awake. He rolled off the sofa, grabbed his gun, and moved swiftly to the window. The other two in the living room woke at the same time—Jason rubbed his eyes and leapt up from his sofa, bracing a hand on the backrest to vault over it as he asked, "What happened?"
Robby had been sleeping directly under the window, curled across two large armchairs he'd pushed together. He swung his legs off, kicked one chair aside, and stood, gripping the window ledge and peering down at the street.
"Someone made it onto this block," Robby muttered, frowning as he scanned the street below. The window gave a clear view, no more than forty meters to the ground.
"Survivors?" Jason asked, moving beside him.
"Not anymore," Liam replied. He'd joined them, standing on Robby's other side, eyes locked on the street with a heavy frown. His voice had a tight, dull edge to it. "What happened last night? Why are there so many of them?"
Jason looked down. The street below writhed with at least two or three hundred zombies, split into four or five loose clusters. Each group hunched around a central point where the undead were devouring something—or someone.
Clearly, survivors had tried to cross the street and failed. Whether they had come from nearby buildings or were just running through, it didn't matter. The only certainty was that they didn't make it. As for where the zombies had come from—maybe from nearby buildings overnight, or perhaps small groups had wandered in from surrounding streets and gradually accumulated into this pack.
"God! Help!"
From the gap between a wrecked car and a wall, a woman—mid-thirties—suddenly bolted into view, sprinting for a building with its front door left ajar. Her scream tore through the air, drawing the zombies' attention instantly. She made it inside—barely—before a zombie emerged from within, dragging her back out and slamming her onto the sidewalk. It sank its teeth into her face, tearing away a chunk of flesh.
Blood sprayed as a wave of ghouls surged in, engulfing her body. The scream ended as quickly as it had started. The only sounds left were snarling and chewing.
Liam, Robby, and Jason stood at the twelfth-floor window of the hotel, watching this all-too-familiar scene unfold again. Their faces were pale. Jason shivered despite himself. Maybe this would be the last thing he ever saw.
He took two steps back and turned away, and when he glanced at Liam's profile, he froze, frowning in confusion.
Robby noticed first—Jason's stare swept right past him. He turned to follow Jason's gaze, then broke into a restrained grin, lips twitching.
Liam felt it too. He turned to them, saw their expressions, and sighed.
"If you're gonna laugh, just do it," he muttered. He touched his swollen lip and walked toward the bathroom.
Robby's grin widened. Jason couldn't hold back. He doubled over with a snort. "Liam, I'm sorry—really—I tried, but I can't hold it in. Your lip—Jesus Christ—" He burst out laughing, grabbing the back of the sofa for balance.
Liam slammed the bathroom door behind him and flipped the light on. He looked into the mirror and sighed again. The bite from Christine had left a deep tear that he'd stitched himself, without anesthetic. He'd cleaned and medicated it but couldn't wrap it—not on the mouth. It had throbbed all night. Now it was swollen like hell.
By the time Liam came out, the others had already gathered in the living room. The screaming earlier had woken everyone, though most had watched from their own windows before coming out.
Christine was the last to appear, dragged reluctantly by Manila. She hesitated until she realized Liam only glanced her way once, then ignored her completely. That stung more than any scolding. She barely touched her food, eating in silence, occasionally sneaking glances at Liam.
"Strong," Liam said, after tossing down a piece of bread and sipping from the milk Manila handed him. "What are your plans?"
Until now, Strong hadn't been considered part of the group. He and his daughter had simply tagged along out of necessity. But things had changed—they were safe, for the moment. Now Strong had a choice.
"You're heading to the countryside," Strong said thoughtfully, chewing from a can of tuna, then looking at his daughter before meeting Liam's gaze. "Maybe we'll come with you. You've got people, and with you, I can take better care of her. And you… you're capable."
"Thanks," Liam said, noncommittal. He picked up some jerky, considered it, then handed it to Manila instead and dusted off his hands. "Introduce yourself properly. Everyone does it."
Strong glanced around. Everyone was watching. He nodded, sat up straighter, and spoke without hesitation.
"Strong. Born April 1955 in San Francisco. Graduated Yale in 1977. Originally wanted to go pro in basketball—NBA—but ended up joining the Marines instead. Enlisted at twenty-three. Served in Panama in '89, Gulf War in '90, Afghanistan in '01. Wounded four times. Eventually promoted to Colonel in '05. Retired last year. Moved to New York with my daughter. She was in high school in Manhattan."
He gave Kayleeti a quick hug. "She's my only child with my second wife. Used to be outgoing. Loved music. Had a schnauzer named Kiki. Planned to go to Manhattan School of Music after graduating. Now… well, now you see."
Clap clap clap.
Liam tapped his hands together lightly. "Welcome aboard."
"Thank you," Strong replied with a small nod.
After breakfast, everyone cleaned up and returned to the living room. Liam had said they'd make plans today.
"Do whatever you want," Liam said, walking out of the bathroom in his cleaned and dried leather jacket. "Just don't leave the building. Sleep more if you want. We're not going anywhere for now."
"I thought we—" Jason stood but trailed off at Liam's glare.
Liam licked his lip and gave Jason a look that said, Have you seen my face? Jason froze. He glanced at Christine, sitting stiffly by Laura, then quickly looked away. He slapped a hand over his forehead and muttered, "Forget I asked."
He turned, dramatically stalking off toward the bedrooms. "Auntie, I'm borrowing your room. I need a nap."
Crash!
Jason's speed took out the one surviving flower vase in the living room. It exploded on the floor.
"Ah, damn!" Jason jumped back, then looked sheepishly at everyone. "I'll clean it up!"
Shhh!
Liam raised a finger to his lips from near the bathroom door, right beside the suite's main entrance.
He'd heard something.
Thump thump thump! Thump thump thump!
The suite's door suddenly shook violently under the pounding.