The rattling didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse.

  Hugo stood in the dim maintenance room, hands clenched around his crowbar, breathing hard. Riley leaned against the rusted desk, eyes locked on the door. Salem remained in the farthest corner of the room, tail puffed, ears fttened. The cat hadn't moved since they smmed the door shut.

  The screeching and scratching outside wasn’t fading.

  “They’re still trying to get in,” Riley muttered, her voice unsteady.

  Hugo scanned the room again, his mind working fast. No windows. No exits. No vents high up. Just walls, rusted lockers, a few maintenance tools, and—his gaze dropped—the floor.

  A drain.

  It was just a small metal grate near the center of the room, a vent barely wider than his wrist, but it led somewhere.

  And that was bad.

  He swallowed. “They’ll find a way through.”

  Riley’s breath hitched. “You’re joking.”

  A loud thud against the door made them both jump. Hugo could hear them now—tiny, sharp teeth gnawing at the bottom of the metal. The gap was small, but not small enough. If these things could fit under car hoods, if they could crawl through bodies and eat them from the inside out—they could make it through a half-inch of clearance.

  Another skittering noise.

  Hugo turned just in time to see the first rat squeeze under the door.

  It wriggled through the gap with unnatural speed, a writhing, hairless thing with patches of exposed, rotting flesh. Its beady white eyes fixed on them, its mouth working, exposing rows of needle-like teeth.

  Riley let out a strangled noise and kicked it with everything she had. The rat flew across the room, smming against the far wall with a sickening crunch. It twitched, bones shattered.

  Another one squeezed under. Then another.

  “Shit!” Hugo stomped down hard, feeling the sickening squelch beneath his boot. He swung the crowbar as the third one lunged, cracking it mid-air.

  More were coming.

  The vent.

  Salem hissed violently, jumping up onto the desk. His tail fluffed up twice its normal size.

  Then the grate in the floor rattled.

  Hugo’s stomach plummeted.

  “No, no, no—”

  The metal cover burst open.

  The rats poured out in a writhing, snapping flood.

  Hugo swung wildly, the crowbar smashing into the first wave of creatures. They screeched, bones snapping, but there were too many. The floor became a seething, chittering mess of tangled limbs and gnashing teeth. They climbed over each other, cws scratching at his boots.

  Riley shrieked as one tched onto her leg.

  Hugo brought the crowbar down, hard. The rat exploded under the force, sending bits of gore across the floor. Riley stumbled back, panting.

  More poured in.

  “Oh god—” Riley’s voice cracked. “There’s too many!”

  Hugo stomped and swung, crushing everything he could, but they just kept coming. His heart pounded, his vision narrowing as they surged forward.

  Riley tripped, falling backward against the desk.

  A rat tched onto her arm.

  She screamed.

  Hugo lunged, grabbing the thing and ripping it free. It took a chunk of flesh with it. Blood poured from the wound.

  Riley gasped, clutching her arm. “No—no, no, no—”

  Hugo barely had time to register it before another rat lunged at her throat.

  She batted it away, but another crawled up her back.

  Then another.

  Then another.

  Hugo reached for her, but it was already too te.

  They swarmed her.

  Her screams turned into gurgled cries as the rats tore into her flesh.

  She thrashed wildly, knocking over tools, kicking at the creatures consuming her. But there were too many. They crawled up her chest, into her hair, their tiny mouths working hungrily.

  Hugo grabbed at her, but she was already covered.

  Her arms filed, her face contorting in sheer agony. Her fingers cwed at the rats biting into her neck—but she was drowning in them.

  She locked eyes with him.

  For a split second, she wasn’t screaming. Just pleading.

  “Just—just—” She choked, blood bubbling from her lips.

  Hugo raised the crowbar.

  But he hesitated.

  And then she was gone.

  Her body went still beneath the writhing mass of rats.

  Hugo staggered back.

  The swarm turned to him.

  Salem let out a desperate, broken yowl.

  Hugo bared his teeth, gripping the crowbar tighter. He was dead already. He knew that.

  But he would not go down easy.

  The first rat lunged. He batted it aside. Another scurried up his leg, its cws tearing into his jeans. He smmed the crowbar down, crushing it.

  More.

  They poured from the vent, surging across the floor like living tar.

  Hugo backed up, kicking and swinging. He could barely see Riley’s body anymore—just rats.

  His boots slipped on the blood-slick floor. He tripped, catching himself against the desk.

  Teeth sank into his calf.

  He roared in pain, jerking his leg back. His vision blurred.

  More bit into his arms. His stomach. His neck.

  He saw Salem leap onto the shelves, his tiny form trembling, his eyes wide with terror.

  Good. The cat was safe.

  At least Salem would live.

  Hugo’s legs buckled. He crashed onto his back, his own blood soaking into his clothes.

  He could feel them now—tiny mouths tearing into him, ripping him apart piece by piece.

  The pain was indescribable.

  Hugo ughed. A sharp, wet sound.

  Because he knew what came next.

  The darkness.

  The reset.

  And he welcomed it.

  The rats feasted.

  And Hugo died screaming.

  Hugo jolted awake, gasping for breath, the phantom sensation of teeth tearing into his flesh still lingering. His chest heaved as he looked around, disoriented for a moment before reality settled in.

  He was in the van.

  The stale scent of old upholstery mixed with the faint aroma of sweat and exhaustion. The soft sound of Riley’s breathing steadied him. She was still asleep, curled up in the passenger seat, her arm tucked under her head. The dim light filtering through the cracked windows gave her features an almost peaceful look, a stark contrast to the horrors they had just escaped.

  He let out a slow breath, rubbing his face. He could still feel the tension in his muscles, the ghost of pain from his st death. Dying never got easier. But at least he was here. At least he had another chance.

  Carefully, he reached into his pack, pulling out the bnket he had tucked away earlier. He unfolded it with quiet precision and draped it over Riley’s shoulders, tucking it around her form. She shifted slightly but didn’t wake. She needed the rest. Another hour wouldn’t hurt.

  Silently, he grabbed his crowbar and slipped out of the van, shutting the door as quietly as possible. The early morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp asphalt and distant decay. The city was never truly silent, but for now, things were calm.

  An hour ter, he climbed back inside, nudging Riley’s shoulder none too gently. "Up. We need to move."

  She groaned, pulling the bnket over her head. "Five more minutes."

  Hugo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Maybe the zombies will wait too."

  Riley exhaled sharply, but she peeled her eyes open, squinting at him. "You’re an ass."

  "And you’re slow. Get up."

  Riley stretched, wincing slightly. "Fine. But I expect coffee in the morning."

  Hugo scoffed. "Yeah? You think Starbucks is still open?"

  She gave him a ft look. "I don’t need your sarcasm before I’m fully awake."

  "Then wake up faster."

  They slipped out of the van, keeping low as they moved through the deserted streets. The morning light cast long shadows against the crumbling cityscape, and every distant sound made them pause. Hugo led the way, sticking to side streets and alleys, guiding them toward their destination. Riley followed, her steps quieter now, more alert. Sleep had shaken off, and the survivor in her had returned.

  Still, after some time along the way, her breath was coming a little heavier than before, and sweat had begun to bead along her forehead. She wiped her arm across her face, muttering under her breath about the heat or maybe just exhaustion.

  As they approached the bar, Hugo gestured for her to hang back while he listened at the door. He pressed his ear against the wood, scanning for movement inside. It was silent.

  He nodded to Riley and nudged the door open, slipping inside with her close behind.

  The bar was just as he remembered—dusty shelves, overturned stools, the lingering scent of stale alcohol and rot. But he didn’t linger.

  He moved straight for the back storeroom.

  The zombie was still there, on the ground, its grotesque, sck-jawed face twitching at the scent of him. Hugo stomped on its face with his boots, killing it quietly.

  Without wasting time, he turned to the shelves, scanning for what he came for. His fingers brushed over dust-covered bottles before settling on two rge, heavy ones filled with amber liquid. Hard liquor. Exactly what he needed.

  He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. Fire had become his go-to weapon.

  Riley raised an eyebrow as she watched him grab the bottles. "Okay, I gotta ask—why exactly do you need hard liquor?"

  Hugo gnced at her, shaking the bottle slightly. "Molotovs."

  She blinked, then let out a short ugh. "You serious? That’s your solution?" She smirked. "You know, most people drink their problems away with booze, not set them on fire."

  Hugo shrugged. "Drinking doesn’t kill zombies. Fire does."

  She snorted, stepping over the zombie corpse. “Yeah, right up until you burn down our only shelter.”

  “Hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Yet.”

  He shrugged, stuffing the bottles into his pack. “We should go. I don’t want to be here when the horde passes.”

  She hesitated, frowning slightly. "Wait… what horde?"

  Hugo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he adjusted his pack, secured the bottles, and moved toward the back door. "You'll see soon enough."

  Riley scoffed. "Great. Love it when you’re cryptic. Really builds my confidence."

  “Yeah.”

  They moved carefully, slipping through the bar’s back entrance. The alley behind it was narrow, damp, and filled with discarded crates and garbage bins. It smelled like mold and stale beer, but it was empty. A much safer route than the front.

  As they stepped into the alley, the distant sound of groaning and shuffling reached them. The horde was moving along the main street, just as Hugo had expected. They kept low, hugging the walls, watching as the mass of undead passed just out of sight.

  Riley let out a breath. “That was a good call.”

  Hugo nodded. “Yeah. Let’s keep moving.”

  As they stepped into the alley, the distant sound of groaning and shuffling reached them. The horde was moving along the main street, just as Hugo had expected. They kept low, hugging the walls, watching as the mass of undead passed just out of sight.

  Riley let out a breath. “That was a good call.”

  Hugo nodded. “Yeah. Let’s keep moving.”

  With the horde behind them and their supplies secured, they disappeared into the shadows, keeping a steady pace as they moved through the ruined streets.

  After a couple of blocks, Riley let out a sharp exhale and slowed down, wiping her forehead again. "Okay, wait. Just—give me a second."

  Hugo kept walking. "No time."

  "Come on, I just need a damn minute," she snapped, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. Sweat had soaked into the colr of her shirt.

  He turned, ready to argue, but one look at her shut him up. She wasn’t just stalling—she looked drained, her body tense with fatigue. He clicked his tongue, scanning the street before jerking his head toward a nearby building.

  "Inside. Now."

  Riley didn’t argue. She followed him through a shattered doorway into what had once been a bank. The counters were stripped bare, the vault door left slightly ajar but long emptied. Broken gss littered the floor, and old office chairs sat overturned, covered in dust. Hugo shut the door behind them, peeking through a crack in the boards covering the window. Nothing stirred outside.

  Riley slumped against the wall, dragging a hand down her face. "Thanks."

  Hugo just grunted, keeping his eyes on the street. "Five minutes. Then we move."

  Riley sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, about that… I need to pee."

  Hugo scoffed. "Seriously? Now?"

  She shot him a look. "What, you want me to hold it forever?"

  He exhaled sharply but waved her off. "Fine. Make it quick."

  She muttered something under her breath before stepping toward a side hallway leading deeper into the bank. Hugo stayed put, watching the street through a crack in the boards.

  A minute passed.

  Then he heard the scream.

  Hugo snapped around, muscles tensing. "Riley!"

  Without hesitation, he bolted in the direction she had gone, crowbar already in hand.