Chapter 4: Unwanted Attachments

Chapter 5: Unwanted Attachments

The city burned, but I didn't care. Survival came first.

Zhao Yue—my new companion—was a cop, but the badge meant nothing now. What mattered was that she was tough, sharp, and had a body built like a goddess, her uniform barely containing her plump curves beneath the bulletproof vest. The way her tight pants hugged her hips with every movement was almost criminal—if laws still existed.

She followed me, though begrudgingly, staying a step behind with her hand never straying too far from her holstered gun. A habit of distrust. Smart.

"You never told me your name," she muttered.

I glanced at her. "Not important."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she let it go. Smart woman.

We moved through the ruins of the city, weaving between wrecked cars and shattered glass. The infected lurked in the distance, drawn by the fires and distant screams. Every street was a battlefield waiting to happen.

Zhao Yue stayed quiet, her breathing steady. She was trained, but not for this.

I could feel her watching me—studying the way I moved, the way I didn't hesitate. She must've been wondering what kind of man I was.

The answer?

The kind that survived.

We reached an abandoned convenience store. The windows were shattered, the shelves ransacked.

"Stay here," I ordered.

She scoffed. "Like hell."

I rolled my eyes and stepped inside. Broken glass crunched under my boots. The air was thick with the scent of spoiled food and blood.

I moved swiftly, checking behind shelves and counters. No infected.

"Clear," I called.

Zhao Yue entered, keeping her gun raised. Paranoia. Another smart trait.

We scavenged in silence. A few cans of food. A half-crushed water bottle. Not much, but enough to keep going.

Then, the sound of movement.

A shuffle near the back of the store. Not a zombie. Something else.

I signaled for her to stay quiet. She nodded.

We moved toward the noise, weapons raised. The shadows shifted.

Then, a girl stumbled forward, eyes wide with terror. She was young—maybe sixteen—her clothes torn, bruises covering her arms.

"P-please," she whispered, voice hoarse. "Help me."

Zhao Yue's grip on her gun loosened. Compassion.

I frowned. A survivor? Unlikely.

She was bait.

Before I could speak, the shelves behind her crashed down. A figure burst out—twisted, decayed, and fast.

A fresh infected.

I moved instantly.

Zhao Yue fired. The bullet hit its shoulder, but it didn't slow down.

I grabbed the girl and shoved her aside. The machete flashed.

One clean slice.

SHNK!

The infected's head rolled to the floor.

Silence.

The girl sobbed, curled up against the counter. Zhao Yue holstered her gun, but her face was pale.

She'd killed before. But this was different. Closer. Bloodier.

I wiped my blade on my sleeve. "Get up," I told the girl.

She flinched but obeyed. Terror in her eyes.

"We can't take her with us," I said bluntly.

Zhao Yue whirled on me. "Are you insane?! She's just a kid!"

I met her gaze. "She's a liability."

The girl sniffled. "I… I can help."

I ignored her, keeping my focus on Zhao Yue. "You want to protect her? Fine. But she slows us down, you deal with the consequences."

Her jaw tightened. She hated me in that moment. Good. Hate kept people alive.

I turned and walked away.

A few seconds later, they followed.

We set up camp in a half-collapsed office building. The night was quiet, but the city still breathed danger.

Zhao Yue sat with the girl, whispering soft reassurances. Pointless.

I stayed by the window, watching the streets below. More infected wandered the roads, drawn by the scent of the living.

"You don't care about anyone, do you?"

Zhao Yue's voice broke the silence.

I didn't turn. "Caring gets you killed."

She scoffed. "That's not survival. That's cowardice."

I finally looked at her. Her eyes burned with anger, but beneath it… uncertainty.

I sighed, turning back to the window. The past flickered in my mind—faces, names, all of them gone. I had cared once. And it had only gotten me killed.

Zhao Yue stared at me for a moment, then sighed. "You're impossible."

I said nothing.

For now, the real game continued.

And I intended to win.