"We don't know how long this ammo will last us, but one thing we do know—it works against the zombies! Everyone, arm yourselves!" Brandon instructed the crowd.
"Where are you?" Samantha muttered as she searched aimlessly through the gun shop while others scrambled to grab firearms. Her face was still stained with zombie blood, and several people avoided her involuntarily due to her disturbing appearance.
"Samantha!" Flynn appeared with two pistols in hand. "What are you doing? We need to gear up! That door could break down any second!"
"Where are you?"
"Do you just want to thank him? You can't do that if you're dead. Take this." Flynn offered her a pistol, already loaded.
Samantha ignored him, eyes scanning her surroundings still as if in a trance. "Where… where are you…"
Flynn sensed it—this wasn't just gratitude. Something deeper was driving her. But survival came first.
"I'll help you find him later, I promise. Just… take the gun for now."
"What's that door…" Samantha mumbled under her breath, walking toward a door at the back of the shop—the restroom.
Flynn sighed and followed her.
—
"Are you sure? It sounds like she's calling for…"
"It's not me," Liam said flatly, eyes fixed on Lydia, who was having a panic attack in the corner.
"Caitlyn."
"Y-yes?" Caitlyn flushed. Liam rarely said her name, let alone called for her.
"Do you love me?"
Her face reddened even more. Liam's voice was quiet enough that Lydia didn't hear, still panicking.
"Wh-what?"
Liam didn't repeat the question. He simply stared, his usual expression unreadable. Caitlyn, flustered, instinctively used the shotgun in her hands to shield her face.
"That's… that's kind of sudden…"
He remained silent, waiting.
"I… I do. I do love you."
"What would you do for me, Caitlyn?" Liam stepped forward, his shadow falling over her.
"Huh?"
"Do you trust me? No matter what I do?"
"O-of course. Of course I do."
"What if I'm a killer? Would you still feel the same?"
That question froze her. Fear flickered in her eyes—but was quickly swallowed by adoration.
"I… I… probably…"
"If I tell you I'm killing for a good reason, would you believe me?"
"If… it's a good reason, then… I guess I would."
"What if I killed someone right in front of you?"
Caitlyn's heart pounded. She glanced around. The only other person nearby was Lydia.
Her friend—although Caitlyn never fully realized that affection was one-sided.
She hesitated. Liam could see it.
He gently took her hand. His touch was soft, his warmth spreading up to her wrist—something from a dream, coming right after a nightmare.
"Why Lydia?"
"Do you not trust me?"
No emotion showed in Liam's eyes. Just the same empty gaze Caitlyn had fallen in love with—and that same gaze was captivating her again.
"I do trust you…"
"Can I borrow those scissors you found earlier?"
He was serious. Caitlyn had suspected it, but now she knew. She hesitated again.
"…um…" She looked down.
Liam leaned in closer, tightened his grip, his face just inches from hers. When she looked up, she saw something new—tears falling from his eyes.
"It's real… I'm gonna die…" Lydia sobbed in the corner, fingers tangled in her hair.
A shadow fell over her. She looked up—and was greeted with terror.
"Liam?" she asked with a trembling voice. "What are you doing?"
He stood over her, scissors in hand, his grip tight and purposeful.
"We're sorry, Lydia…" Caitlyn murmured, turning her back.
"Wait—WAIT!"
Liam grabbed Lydia's wrists with ease. She kicked at him, flailed desperately, but it was no use.
"NO!" His hand lifted her chin, exposing her throat—readying the fatal cut.
"PLEASE! NOOOOO!"
Liam said nothing. His eyes betrayed no emotion. He placed the blade to her neck and slit it cleanly, without hesitation.
It was the perfect place for him to complete his mission—until the door creaked.
On the other side stood a face both familiar and dreadful. After years of searching for one another, neither of them wanted this reunion.
He had longed to see her mature face—but not like this.
She had wished to find his deepened voice—but not like this.
Her face was stained with blood. His hands were soaked in it.
Time froze. The game was over. Their vision blurred. Slowly collapsed to the ground.
The night had ended.
—
Time froze on the other side of the game too.
Tentacles were mere inches from piercing Jason's eyes before everything stopped.
He was the only survivor aboard the ship, and soon, like the others, he drifted into unconsciousness.
A massive spotlight shone down on him. A helicopter hovered overhead.
Inside it stood the same man in the same formal suit, observing.
"This could use more work," he commented.