Brooke and I ran out of the tunnel, weaving around cars. The sprint was fast, the speed of a cruising dirt bike with twice the flexibility. We could make it to Emily in three minutes. Assuming, of course, there weren't any obstacles. There was.

  We had just run past the 5th Avenue underpass when the trouble began. Right on the other side was Union Station, the home of Seattle’s light rail and bus network. On the top of one of the rain shields, there was a purplish pelican the size of a pterodactyl. It had a mean ‘ol beak—five feet long, curved and snappy—which held a living woman inside it. I had seen the woman before: she was one of the people with rope burns on their hands after I yanked the library’s door open. Her eyes drifted over to us, and she muttered, “Help me.” Then, her body flew into the air as the pelican threw her like a piece of popcorn, opened its beak, and swallowed her whole.

  Brooke stepped back, gripping her katana in a bold stance. I glanced at her, surprised she didn’t lock up or give in to her wounds.

  “I’m going to try to shoot it,” I said. “If I comes toward us, protect me.”

  “Wait,” she hissed. “What if it’s evolved? That bullet won’t touch it.”

  “Oh, it’ll touch it. I didn’t get a gun to kill humans.” I pulled down the sniper’s bipod and lay on the ground. I put my eye to the scope, expecting my high Perception stat to make aiming it effortless. I was wrong. The only thing it did was slow the circle of green, brown, and white blurs!

  “Kyyyle,” Brooke said, voice elongated in my heightened perception. “It-It’s moooving.”

  I finally adjusted my scope and saw it. The pelican’s wings jerked twice (still a fuckin’ pelican, I thought) and released a low, grahk sound as it angled its beak and flew at us.

  “Shit!” I muttered, pulling the trigger twice.

  To my shock, I landed a lucky shot. The bullet went through the pelican’s chest and right out its back, blasting a forty-foot streak of blood into the air. The bird squawked in pain, but the bullet didn’t do squat to stop it. It occurred to me that bullets were meant to mushroom and get stuck in the body, but my bullet flew right through! The only thing it did was piss it off and draw its attention away from Brooke.

  I rolled to my feet as Brooke swung her katana vertically in anticipation of the bird’s attack. She was too slow to hit it, so I purposely jumped toward her executioner’s swing, leading the bird right to it. Sure enough, the bird followed me—right to its death. I dodged at the last moment, and Brooke’s katana, sharp as a laser cutter, cleaved right through the creature’s neck. I got the chime as the bird’s headless corpse rolled past us.

  You have contributed minorly to the death of Level 24 Purple Long Beak

  I laughed, impressed by the teamwork. I turned and saw Brooke’s lips trembling. “I-I leveled up,” she muttered.

  “I bet you did,” I said. “Good job.”

  “Wait… you’re happy?”

  I slung my rifle over my shoulder and paused. “Uh… yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Brooke didn’t answer. She looked aghast, confused—lost. I wasn’t sure why that would be a problem, but then I remembered what she said to me right before Edgar bashed her brains in.

  (“They didn’t let me level up, and started beating me when I was exhausted and wanted to rest.”)

  “Oh…” I said. “Uh, yeah. This is normal. So long as you’re with me, I’ll help you level up. If I thought you’d kill me, I’d’ve just killed you.”

  Brooke stared at me, folding her arms uncomfortably—unsure what to say.

  “Come on,” I said. “My friend’s just down the street. I know she’s still alive, but I’ve got a bad feeling she’s with people, and well…”

  Brooke’s body tensed.

  “Yeah, exactly. Let’s go.”

  —Emily—

  Emily watched the baseball bat crash into Tom’s skull. Brains shot out of it like a dropped tomato, creating a squid shape of blood and matter on the kitchen floor. This was not what she expected when she got a notification stating that a party of “Chosens” was coming to save her. Yet that’s exactly what happened. A party of four came, a woman and three men, and the group took off, only for a sea of zombies to push them to a restaurant on Lane Street. Now, she was stuck in the kitchen, watching her rescue team kill each other.

  David did the killing. He was an Asian man, probably Korean—not that it mattered. It was just a firm identifier, like his diamond stud earrings, and the bone-carved baseball bat that he had bashed Tom’s brains in with. David was 22. David killed people.

  “If anyone tries that shit again…” David said slowly, turning to Brian and Vicky, the other two members. “I’ll kill them.”

  “Was that seriously necessary?” Brian asked. He was 6'3" and super hairy. He was like a bear—and he was furious.

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  “Of course it was!” Vicky snapped. She was thirty-six. She had two children and a smoking addiction. She was on David’s side.

  “I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Brian said.

  “I don’t remember asking for yours,” David interjected. He knocked the tiles twice with his baseball bat. He turned to Brian, diamond earrings glinting in the thin light filtering from the kitchen door’s window.

  Emily fell to the ground, heart rattling. David turned to her and back. “Is that understood, Brian?”

  Brian nodded, fire axe swinging beside his boots like a clock’s pendulum. He tapped the weapon twice on the tiles and said, “Yeah. I understand.”

  He didn’t understand.

  —Kyle—

  Brooke and I curved left onto Lane Street and ran down the cul-de-sac. A notification triggered when we neared.

  A fledgling is in your vicinity. Find them and take them to safety!

  I didn’t need the notification. There was a parade of zombies slapping the glass window to Kilig, a Filipino eatery I had eaten at before. That was obviously where they were.

  I handed Brooke my sniper and jumped into the mob, blending the zombies to pieces with no concern for my appearance.

  I’m coming, Emily, I thought. Just a few more minutes.

  —Emily—

  Emily turned when she heard a commotion outside. There was a collective roar of zombies and a loud crash as something hit the plate-glass door.

  David turned—and that’s when Brian attacked. He swung his axe at David’s neck, but the latter dodged. Brian tried again, but Vicky stopped him. She swung her machete into the bearish man’s shoulder. He cried out in pain.

  “You bitch!” Brian screamed. He grabbed her by the hair and swung her face into an industrial metal counter. There was a sick ding and rattle of pans as her skull made contact, and then he released her, letting her body fall limply to the floor. Worse than dying, she seized on the floor like a flopping fish.

  “Dumb bitch,” Brian said, spitting. “That’s what you—”

  A baseball bat swung at Brian’s head.

  Brian was only feigning thoughtlessness. He dodged and threw out a push-kick, stomping David in the chest.

  David slipped on a metal spoon right before the kick, so the kick sent him into the wall at a diagonal.

  Emily covered her mouth when he hit the wall with an explosion of drywall. He was dead. He had to be dead!

  Brian didn’t take chances. He rushed across the room for a killing shot. That’s when the door slammed open, flying off its hinges as it flew into the room. It slammed into Brian, sending the burly man crashing into a flattop griddle. The industrial grill crunched inward, as if to prove how powerful the impact was. It was eerie.

  Emily’s heart pounded as a man walked into the room, drenched head to toe in blood. He took note of David, who was stuck, unconscious, in the wall to his right. He turned back to Brian. “You have three seconds to explain what happened here,” he said. “I’ll count.”

  Emily’s eyes trembled when she heard the newcomer’s voice. “Kyle?”

  —Kyle—

  I turned when I heard Emily’s voice, relieved she was fine. Her clothing wasn’t torn, so the fresh blood on her was from the blood bath that was playing out when I arrived.

  “One second,” I said. “It’s still not safe.” I grabbed the Asian man stuck in the wall. “I really hate doing this to someone unconscious—”

  “Wait!” Emily cried. “He’s a good guy!”

  I turned back to her. “What?”

  “He saved me! T-That guy…” She pointed at a man with his brains bashed out on the floor. “H-He took me in here. And David ran after us. He saved me.”

  “Oh…” I put the good guy on the floor, and then pointed to the burly man groaning across the room. “Then I take it he’s a bad guy?”

  Emily swallowed. “I think so.”

  “I see…” I turned to Brooke. “I’m going to take Emily outside for some fresh air. Will you tie him up?” I glanced between the burly man and the loading door in the kitchen. I didn’t clarify what ‘tie him up’ meant on purpose. She’d understand.

  Brooke hesitated, but her eyes filled with resolv,e and she nodded. “Good call.”

  “Thanks,” I led Emily to the loading door, impressed by Brooke’s coolness. She made for a good partner. It was a shame that we were destined to avoid each other after this mission. I was also impressed with Emily. She was seventeen—but she wasn’t naive. She knew Brooke wasn’t going to tie the man up with an invisible rope we found from nowhere—but she didn’t question it. She nodded and followed after me out the door, walking into the mid-summer air.

  I shut the door, searching for words. Nothing came to mind. I was drenched in blood, and while I wanted to say that was just zombie blood, I had just killed two people and ordered the death of a third. I had lost the good person card; now, I was fighting for the good brother card—and failing.

  I sighed. “Listen, Emily.” I looked into her eyes—and saw them blubbering and spilling over with tears.

  “Wait,” I said. “I need to ex—”

  “Kyle!” Emily wrapped her arms around my gory body, wailing as she clutched my back. “I-I thought you were dead. I-I was so scared.”

  “Huh…” I laughed. “You were worried about me?”

  “Of course, idiot! Y-You… I…” She lost coherence as she babbled on. I didn’t know what to say. I felt a great pain knowing that my sister had trudged through Hell—that she was still in Hell—and that Hell was now our life. Yet… I felt great relief that Emily hugged my bloody body after I ordered a man’s death—that there were no barriers between us. I couldn’t believe it. I was afraid she’d never see me the same again—that she’d show up to family reunions and say, “I don’t recognize him anymore,” as others nodded and said, “It’s sad… so sad…” Yet that fear was unfounded. She squeezed me, bawling—showing me how much she cared. That meant more to me than she could ever understand. So I squeezed her back, tearing up the slightest amount as I let her bawl herself into a lull.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, stroking the back of her head. “I will protect you. I promise: I will protect you.”