DONE ✔️ (UNDER EDIT)

Chapter Three.

Chapter Three.
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'...This is our last chance...'

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I drew in a sharp breath through my nose and exhaled slowly through my mouth as I approached the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Once, this penthouse had been the epitome of luxury—an expensive apartment with panoramic views of the city. Now, it was nothing more than four crumbling walls, barren furniture that screamed 'minimalism gone wrong', and a torturous thirty stories drop above the blood-soaked streets below.

I dropped my backpack by my feet, the strap hitting the cracked marble floor with a dull thud, before stepping closer to the glass. I placed one hand against it, feeling the cold, smooth surface under my palm as I scanned the city for any sign of movement.

Behind me, the sound of huffing and labored breathing filled the air, followed by the distinct booted footsteps on the glass marble flooring. River and Parker were closing in, their steps heavy as they joined me by the window. Spike, the oversized German Shepherd, trotted beside them, blood dripping from a jagged stick he carried in his mouth like a prize. He'd used it only twenty minutes earlier to stab a zombie in the leg, slowing it just enough for me to end its misery with a clean shot to the skull.

We'd heard movement in the city moments later, and instinctively taken cover in the building, waiting as a convoy of vehicles, both civilian and military, had passed by. I knew exactly where they were headed, and it wasn't to us. So, we'd climbed, pushing my already battered knee to the limit. Thirty floors up had felt like a hundred. The others had followed, no questions asked.

"Remind me again," River panted, his voice strained, "Why we did that?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. Instead, I kept my eyes fixed on the city, desperately searching for any sign of those vehicals.

"Probably just doing a sweep of the city." Parker murmured, his deep voice cutting through the tension as he stood beside me.

I heard River shuffle behind me, most likely touching something he shouldn't.

"So why didn't we flag them down for a ride back to the cabin?" He asked, his voice full of frustration, "It's what, two hours back on foot? A ride would've been nice."

I clenched my jaw, swallowing the bitterness that threatened to rise in my throat. A ride would've been ideal, but the way we'd been treated by anyone who had power in this new world—strip searched, questioned, treated like cattle—they'd never take us in. We'd be lucky if they didn't just shoot us on sight. We had minimal weapons, some food, medical supplies, and toilet paper—valuable in this wasteland, but not enough to guarantee survival.

"Because." Parker snapped, his tone final.

He crossed his arms, ending the conversation as he leaned against the window frame.