Undead Hearts

Rebuild of honor

The apartment lay still in the aftermath of the battle, an eerie silence broken only by the faint sounds of the wind slipping through cracks in the walls. The stench of gunpowder lingered, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Their home, once a safe haven, was now scarred by the chaos of the attack. And in the middle of it all lay Bastian, his body unmoving, a devastating reminder of how quickly things could unravel.

Aiden knelt beside his friend, his hands stained with blood as he gripped Bastian's shoulder, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. His tears dripped onto the floor, mixing with the dust and debris that covered everything. He sat there, shaking, unable to speak, unable to move. His mind was a storm of grief and disbelief, the loss of Bastian like a physical wound. He could hear the others moving around him, but he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge them.

Jared stood by the shattered window, staring out into the night, his face expressionless but his posture rigid with tension. His hand hovered near the rifle slung over his shoulder, but he didn't move to grip it. Brittany stood beside him, her arm resting lightly against his. She wasn't crying, but her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes dark with a deep, quiet sadness. Neither of them spoke.

Sarah sat on the floor near the couch, her knees drawn to her chest, her face blank. She blinked slowly, her gaze unfocused, as if she were somewhere far away. Her fingers idly twisted the ends of her hair, but she didn't cry either. Like Jared and Brittany, her grief was something internal, something she wouldn't—or couldn't—express outwardly. Instead, she remained silent, letting the weight of everything settle inside her.

Kim, on the other hand, stood off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression neutral. There was no visible sorrow, no tears, no flicker of emotion in her eyes. She was still, almost unnervingly so, her mind processing the events around her but not in the same way as the others. The emotional gravity of the situation seemed to slip past her. Her focus was elsewhere, on the immediate, practical details, not the overwhelming sense of loss that gripped the rest of the group. To her, Bastian's death was a fact, not something she fully grasped on an emotional level.

Zain, pacing near the door, was the only one who showed any outward frustration, his brow furrowed, his hands clenched into fists. He muttered under his breath, his thoughts a tangled mix of anger and grief. Every step he took was a struggle to keep himself from unraveling.

"We can't stay here," Zain said after a long stretch of silence, his voice tight with emotion. "This place isn't safe anymore. We need to find somewhere else before they come back."

Aiden looked up, his face wet with tears, and shook his head. "No," he said, his voice hoarse. "We're not leaving. Bastian... he died protecting this place. We owe it to him to stay and rebuild. This was our home."

Zain stopped pacing and turned to Aiden, his eyes narrowing. "Aiden, think about it. They found us once. They'll find us again. We're vulnerable here."

Jared, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice low and even. "Aiden's right. Leaving now doesn't feel right. We've put too much into this place. If we leave, it'll be like admitting defeat."

Brittany nodded in quiet agreement, her hand slipping from Jared's arm as she glanced toward Bastian's body. "We've fought harder for this place than anywhere else," she added. "It was our home. We can make it safe again."

Sarah remained silent but gave a subtle nod, her hands still twisting strands of her hair. Her gaze flickered briefly to Bastian, and then back to the floor.

Kim remained expressionless, her eyes darting between the others as they spoke. She knew something important had happened, something that mattered deeply to everyone, but she couldn't quite connect with the gravity of it the way they did. Her mind was clear, but her feelings—whatever they were—stayed locked behind a wall she didn't know how to breach. She only knew one thing: leaving didn't make sense to her.

"We have supplies," Kim said flatly, her voice calm and detached. "Materials in the storage room. Enough to rebuild the defenses."

Zain ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but outnumbered. "You're all seriously going to stay here? After everything that just happened?"

"We're staying," Aiden said firmly, his voice gaining strength. He wiped at his face, determination replacing the sorrow in his expression. "We rebuild. For Bastian."

With the decision made, the room grew quiet again, but the air had shifted. The crushing weight of Bastian's death still hung over them, but there was now a purpose to their movements. Rebuilding wasn't just about survival—it was about making sure Bastian's sacrifice meant something. Leaving would have felt like betrayal. Staying, fortifying, was the only way they could honor him.

Zain let out a heavy sigh, clearly displeased but unwilling to fight the group on this. "Fine," he muttered. "But we do it right this time. No half measures. We turn this place into a fortress."

The next few hours passed in a blur of activity. Jared, Zain, and Aiden worked tirelessly to shore up the apartment's defenses. They scavenged whatever they could from the lower floors—metal scraps, wood planks, anything they could use to reinforce the windows and doors. Zain rigged makeshift traps around the building, his engineering skills finally put to use, while Jared and Aiden inspected the perimeter for weak spots.

Kim, who had little interest in emotional processing, focused on the logistics. She went through their supplies, organizing tools and materials with meticulous precision. To her, the task at hand was simple: fortify, rebuild, survive. Emotions weren't part of the equation, though she was vaguely aware of their importance to the others.

Brittany, Sarah, and Kim worked on the interior, repairing what they could. Brittany was methodical, keeping herself busy to avoid dwelling on the loss. Sarah, though quiet, worked efficiently, her hands moving automatically as she helped Kim patch up the kitchen and living room. She wasn't sure how to feel, so she focused on the practical.

By the time night fell again, the apartment was transformed. The windows were barred with metal and wood, the doors reinforced with heavy materials scavenged from nearby buildings. Their home had become a fortress, as strong as they could make it.

Jared stood by the now-secure window, staring out at the darkened city. Brittany stood beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. They didn't speak, but the silence between them was comfortable, an unspoken acknowledgment of what they had accomplished together.

Aiden approached, his face still drawn with grief but his eyes resolute. "I'm ready," he said quietly. "Let's bury him."

The group gathered in the back of the building, beneath a patch of sky where Bastian had once liked to sit. The ground was soft, and together they dug a grave. Aiden knelt beside the body, wrapping Bastian in a blanket with trembling hands.

Lily placed a small token beside him, a bracelet she had been wearing. "You're still with us," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Kim watched silently, her arms folded across her chest. She understood that this was an important ritual for them, but it didn't stir the same feelings in her. To her, it was a necessary task, a logical part of the grieving process.

As they covered Bastian's body, the reality of his death finally began to sink in for all of them. But there was also a strange sense of peace. They hadn't just survived—they had rebuilt. Together.

"We'll keep fighting," Aiden said softly, looking at the others. "For him."

And with that, they turned back toward their fortified home, ready to face whatever the world threw at them next.