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ONE

THEO

DILAPIDATED

Day 453

The cold November wind whips across my face, lashing at my skin and stinging my eyes as we approach the small town near Rolling Hills. The air feels sharper here. Kenji, Adrian, and I all are in sync as we push our horses as fast as they can go, hooves pounding the cracked pavement beneath us.

As we cross into what looks like what used to be the main street, we slow the horses to a trot. I circle my head, scanning for any sign of Farron or EJ, but the town gives us nothing. There is no movement, and I assume there is no sound based on Kenji and Adrian’s lack of reaction. My eyes continue to dart around, and I take in our surroundings.

The buildings that line the street look like they’re barely standing, their windows shattered, glass glinting like jagged teeth in the fading light. Old signs hang crookedly from rusting chains, moving in the wind. A faded diner logo flutters above a door that's barely hanging on its hinges, its once-vibrant red now peeling and sun-bleached into an ugly brown. Abandoned cars, their tires long deflated, sit in disarray along the street, some crashed into one another. Vines have crawled up from the cracks in the pavement, twisting around streetlights that no longer serve a purpose.

Dried autumn leaves flutter down the street, catching on a broken bench that’s been overtaken by nature. The bench is warped and splintered, with weeds creeping over the wood like the town itself is being swallowed whole.

The street is lined with skeletons, a sign of the people now long lost to infection and fate. The lack of rotten, decomposing flesh indicates that it’s been a while since anyone or anything was in this part of the town. My eyes dart from building to building, searching the shadows, but the town is still—too still. Every corner and alley feels like a trap as the smell of decay lingers in the air, faint but ever-present.

We’re alone.

Or, at least, we seem to be.

I move forward toward an old church with once-white shutters falling off the windows. The front doors are large and wide open, and although there’s no sign of anyone there, I’d rather check and know for certain that Farron isn’t inside. Suddenly, I see Adrian and Kenji seize up, coming to a full stop on their horses, their eyes blown wide open.

My head snaps toward Kenji, whose hand shoots up to his mouth before moving outward in a frantic motion, his jaw slacks as he makes the sign for scream . The pit of my stomach drops with a cold, sinking realization. I jerk my head in a sharp nod, signaling I understand and will follow. Without hesitation, Adrian and Kenji dart off to the left, horses galloping toward a new street lined with dilapidated homes. I follow close behind, my heart slamming against my ribs, the sickening churn of worry for Farron threatening to eat me alive. Has there been another scream? Any noise at all? I don’t know. All I can do is keep up, trusting that Adrian and Kenji will somehow lead us to our girl.

As we push forward, the street widens, opening up to a larger building. The sign hanging from its frame reads ‘North Star Hospital.’ Like everything else in this town, it’s a husk of its former self. But, unlike the skeletal homes, the hospital’s brick walls seem to have endured the test of time. The structure looms ahead, casting long shadows across the ground, creating an unsettling stillness. Adrian and Kenji skid to a stop, their bodies going rigid. They exchange a quick, tense glance, and then their eyes shift to me.

“Noises inside,” Kenji tells me as he inclines his head toward the building. “Maybe Farron, maybe something else.”

I clench my jaw and nod in understanding, dread coiling tighter around my chest. We move cautiously around the side of the building, scanning for the entrance. As we round the corner to the front, my eyes lock on EJ, standing alone near the doors—no Farron in sight. A new wave of panic crashes over me. Without thinking, I grip the reins tighter and urge my horse forward, barreling past Adrian and Kenji. I dismount in a rush, the machete strapped to my back already in hand, its blade flashing in the sunlight as I unsheathe it. My hands tremble slightly, but I steady them. I may not be as skilled with knives as Adrian and Kenji, but I can hold my own.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing them both readying their own weapons. We’ve done this countless times and know the drill by now. I step aside, letting Kenji take the lead as we slip through the hospital’s entrance, and Adrian falls in line behind me. Being in the middle is my best bet—if anything happens, I rely on their hearing. They’ve always told me I’m not a liability, but in moments like these, when every creak and shuffle could mean the difference between life and death, it’s hard not to feel the weight of my silence.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifts, and we are all on even higher alert than before. The air is thick and oppressive, as if the darkness itself is pressing down on us. There’s no power, and despite the broken windows scattered along the walls, the place is a maze of shadows. The light from outside barely reaches in, pooling in isolated patches that illuminate little. Kenji turns to us again, his eyes sharp and alert as he locks gazes with me and then with Adrian behind me, making sure he has both of our attention.

“We’ll move quickly but quietly. The noises are all coming from the hallway to the right. It sounds like zombies, so stay alert.”

I give him a curt nod, my grip on the machete firm. Adrian signals his readiness too, and with that, Kenji moves forward, his footsteps deliberate and careful. I watch his every move, mimicking his caution, stepping lightly to avoid any loose debris or dried leaves that might betray our presence. We pass by room after room, our eyes darting in and out of the doorways, scanning for threats. No zombies yet. No people, either. The more that time stretches, the more suffocating it becomes.

Finally, after what could have only been a minute or two but feels like a lifetime, we reach the end of the hallway, where faint shadows dance across the floor from a room ahead. The three of us instinctively shift into position, prepared for a fight, expecting to be greeted by zombies. But what I see makes my blood freeze.

Farron.

She’s in the center of the room, the light from the broken windows silhouetting her, her wild curls framing her face like a dark halo. Her chest heaves with ragged breaths, and her hands—coated in slick, black blood—grip an IV pole. She’s bashing it over and over into the skull of a downed zombie. Around her lie more bodies, fresh kills, the foul blood still pooling beneath them. I feel a surge of pride mixed with horror. She fought them off—alone. But the way her arms keep moving, almost mechanically, the way her eyes are distant and unfocused… It’s like she’s not even here.

She doesn’t seem to realize that anyone else is here with her.

Kenji takes a slow step forward, his hands raised in a gesture of peace, his lips moving as he gently calls her name. I can’t hear him, but I see the moment her head snaps up. Her arms are raised, the IV pole held high as she prepares to swing again, this time at us. Her eyes are wide, wild , filled with something dark and untamed. Recognition flickers across her face in the next heartbeat. She stops mid-swing, her shoulder slumping and arms drooping down, the IV pole clattering to the ground. Her chest heaves, and she looks between the three of us, confusion and surprise warring in her expression.

Her hand trembles as it rises to push a few stray curls out of her face, smearing streaks of thick, blackened blood across her temple and tangling in her hair. I squint, stepping closer to better see her lips so I can figure out what she’s saying. My heart pounds harder as I close the distance, determined to understand her, to help her. Holden.

I glance over at Adrian, and we share a look—his eyebrows knit together in concern, the same question in his eyes. Why is she saying his name? Adrian sheathes his combat knife without a word and moves forward, his hands gentle as they take hold of hers, both of them coated in the blood of the undead. Her eyes snap up to meet his, wide and full of some unspoken fear. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but the way his lips move slowly tells me he’s trying to ground her, to pull her back from whatever place her mind wandered to.

I turn to Kenji for interpretation, my eyes tracking the fluid movement of his hands as he translates. “Farron, there’s no one here. Holden’s not here, okay? We can quickly work through the other hallway to double-check, but then we need to head back home.” I shift my gaze back to Farron, and I see the tears welling up in her eyes, her lashes wet as she blinks rapidly to keep them from spilling over. She gives a tight nod, her lips pressing together, clearly struggling to keep it together.

Adrian, never breaking his calm, reaches into his pants and pulls out an extra combat knife, holding it out to her. She takes it with shaky hands, the blade catching a flicker of light from the broken windows. The three of us share a look, our shared worry for Farron no longer necessarily about her physical safety but about her mental health right now. The cracks are showing, and it’s clear that Holden has lodged himself in her mind once again.

“Let’s run through the other hallway and check, then get the hell out of here,” Kenji tells us. “Then we can get home and figure it all out. Theo, keep Farron in the middle with you, okay?” I nod, stepping forward to take Farron’s hands. They’re sticky, cold, and trembling. She looks at me, her eyes still glassy, and I guide her to stand beside me. With a final glance between us, we fall into our formation again, with Kenji taking the lead, me and Farron in the middle, and Adrian guarding the rear. We move swiftly and cautiously, heading toward the other side of the small hospital.

The hallway on the other side is just as bleak as the last, each room hollow and empty, devoid of any life—including Holden. The tension builds with every empty space we clear. We’re almost done when we reach the room labeled Cafeteria . The door groans and scrapes against the ground as we push it open, the vibrations felt through the floor, revealing overturned tables and a chaotic mess of chairs. It’s clear the place hasn’t seen life in years, but we can’t afford to overlook anything.

We spread out, moving through the cafeteria to cover the ground quickly. My eyes sweep the room as I make my way to the right side, where a door stands partially ajar, likely leading into the kitchen. My hand lingers on the doorknob for a second too long, a strange sense of foreboding settling in my chest, but I push it aside and open the door.

The force with which it bursts open takes me by surprise, slamming me backward as a mass of rotting bodies surges out. I hit the floor hard; the breath knocked from my lungs. For a split second, panic threatens to paralyze me, but survival instincts kick in, and I scramble to my feet, sprinting back across the room toward Farron and the others.

My breath comes in ragged gasps, adrenaline coursing through my veins as the three of them all rush to check on me. It takes a moment for me to realize that Farron is signing only, which means the guys must be really stressed if they haven’t realized that same thing.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I tell them, waving them off as I turn to face the horde that’s now stumbling through the door I just opened. My heart sinks. “But I fucked up. I didn’t know there was anything behind that door, and now they’re blocking our exit.”

The other three turn their attention back that way too, and I see the moment it registers for all of them. It’s not just a couple of zombies. At least a dozen of them are filling the space now, their decaying bodies shuffling forward, blocking the way we came in, cutting off our escape route.

We’re trapped.