Alive

13

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~~~~~~⚫️Chapter 13⚫️~~~~~~
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I stared at him, breath catching in my throat as his gaze met mine. His eyes were a dark, impenetrable black, but for a split second, a flash of brown glimmered in my mind—warm, familiar, a shade that made my heart skip in recognition. Images began to surface, fleeting memories I couldn't hold onto. A party, the feel of his hands on my body, his breath warm against my neck. A thrill ran through me, sharp and intoxicating, and I staggered back, trying to make sense of it all.

He said nothing. Just turned his back and started walking.

Instinctively, I followed, my bare feet scraping across broken asphalt and shattered glass, too numb to care. He moved with lethal grace, each step radiating restrained violence, his jaw tight, brow creased into a permanent glare. His broad shoulders shifted under the dark fabric of his jacket as he walked in silence, his muscles coiled tight like a predator barely holding itself back. I kept glancing up at him, unable to look away.

And then I noticed it—everything else noticed him too.

The city was decaying around us. Buildings hunched like bones, glass shattered like ice across the sidewalks, and trash blew through the streets like ghosts. But it wasn't the ruin that made my skin crawl.

It was the way the infected moved.

Zombies—dozens of them—lined the alleys, slouched between cars, dragging broken limbs and twitching, gnashing teeth. They were everywhere... until he passed by.

They scattered.

One by one, they pulled back like shadows fleeing the sun. I watched in disbelief as the snarling monsters, who minutes ago had been tearing at each other, suddenly cowered away. Their empty eyes flicked toward him in something disturbingly close to fear. None of them came near. Not one.

I stumbled as I walked behind him, unable to keep my eyes off his strange, flowing hair—white as bleached bone, long and messy, fluttering like silk in the dusty wind. It looked wrong on someone like him, something too pure, too soft. But on him, it only made him more haunting.

He didn't say a word. Just kept walking, boots crunching over the rubble until he reached a towering skyscraper. The glass façade had shattered, leaving jagged teeth framing the entrance, but the inside was empty. He stepped over the broken doors and disappeared into the shadows.

I hesitated at the threshold, but a cold wind and the sound of distant growling pushed me forward. I followed him into the gloom, my breath catching again as the building swallowed me whole.

Inside, it was dark, but not silent. The creak of steel, the moan of the wind through broken windows—it all echoed like ghosts whispering in an abandoned cathedral. He led me up a winding staircase, his steps soundless compared to my clumsy ones. Then he turned sharply and entered what looked like an old office space. Desks lay in splinters, chairs upturned and forgotten. The carpet was stained, but near the windows, a single patch of floor was clean, cleared of debris like someone had bothered to make it livable.