Cherie’s mind went blank.
Not confused.
Not overwheld.
Blank.
For a mont, it felt like her brain simply refused to process what her eyes were seeing.
Hale.
And Isabella.
Together.
Alive.
The sight rooted her to the floor harder than any punch ever could.
After Hailey, after Texas, after everything that had happened since the world ended, she had convinced herself so doors stayed shut forever.
So people beca mories.
So families simply stopped existing.
Yet there they were.
The constant beeping of the machine beside Naomi seed to fade into nothing.
The quiet conversations between nurses disappeared.
The sll of disinfectant vanished.
All of it drowned beneath the simple fact that they were here.
"Cherie."
The voice sounded distant.
Like soone speaking underwater.
"Cherie?"
A little closer this ti.
"Are you okay?"
The world abruptly returned.
The beeping machine.
The fluorescent lights.
The sll of dicine.
The weight in her stomach.
Everything ca rushing back.
Cherie blinked.
Then realized both Isabella and Hale were staring at her.
"I—"
Nothing ca out.
Her throat felt strangely tight.
She cleared it.
"Yeah."
The lie sounded weak even to her.
"Yeah, I’m okay."
Nobody believed it.
Especially Isabella.
Isabella had always been good at reading people.
Sotis annoyingly good.
Her eyes moved across Cherie’s face carefully.
Studying.
Not judging.
Just trying to understand.
And that sohow made it worse.
"You look different."
The words were gentle.
Still, sothing twisted painfully inside Cherie’s chest.
Different.
That was one way of putting it.
The girl standing here now wasn’t the sa girl from Texas.
Wasn’t the sa girl from months ago.
Hell, she wasn’t even the sa girl from a few weeks ago.
"What happened?"
Cherie forced out a laugh.
A weak one.
"Life happened."
The joke landed like a dead bird.
Nobody smiled.
Nobody laughed.
The silence afterward made her wish she’d said nothing.
Hale’s eyebrows furrowed slightly.
He still hadn’t spoken.
Still hadn’t looked directly at her for more than a second.
Isabella frowned.
The concern on her face only grew.
An awkward mont stretched between them.
Not long.
Just long enough to beco uncomfortable.
Then Isabella spoke again.
"Do you want to sit down?"
Cherie nodded.
Honestly, if Isabella had tried hugging her right now, she probably would’ve thrown up again.
Not because she disliked her.
Quite the opposite.
Because she wasn’t sure she’d survive sobody being kind to her at the mont.
She sat carefully in the empty chair nearby.
The tal legs scraped quietly against the floor.
Nobody spoke imdiately.
Naomi remained unconscious.
Bandages wrapped around her head.
The steady rise and fall of her chest was the only indication she was still here.
Cherie found herself staring at her.
Not because she wanted to.
Because it was easier than making eye contact.
Easier than explaining herself.
Easier than confronting everything she’d beco.
At least Naomi was asleep.
She didn’t have to look disappointed.
Eventually, Isabella broke the silence.
"So..."
Cherie looked up.
Isabella gestured toward Naomi.
"You two already ran into each other?"
A humorless laugh escaped Cherie.
"Unfortunately."
Isabella blinked.
"Unfortunately?"
Cherie rubbed the back of her neck.
"Yeah."
Her eyes drifted toward Naomi again.
"Sa thing with Adrian."
That got a reaction.
A noticeable one.
Isabella’s eyes widened.
Hale finally looked directly at her.
Only for a second.
But it happened.
"...you found Adrian?"
Cherie nodded.
The guilt arrived instantly.
Like it had been waiting.
Patiently.
The mory surfaced before she could stop it.
I wish Vivian killed you that night.
The words still felt fresh.
Still hurt.
Still managed to sink their claws into her whenever she wasn’t paying attention.
"...yeah."
Her voice ca out quieter this ti.
"We found each other."
Found each other.
Lost each other.
Hurt each other.
The details felt impossible to explain.
Isabella leaned forward slightly.
"Then where is he?"
Cherie hesitated.
"Not here."
"What happened?"
Cherie scratched at her eyebrow.
A nervous habit.
One she’d never managed to break.
"I don’t know."
The honesty surprised even her.
"I genuinely don’t know."
Isabella frowned.
"I would’ve thought you’d be together."
So would’ve Cherie.
The thought almost made her laugh.
Instead she looked away.
Toward the opposite wall.
Toward literally anything else.
"We..."
Her voice stumbled.
"We got separated."
That wasn’t really the truth.
Not the whole truth.
But it was the closest thing she could manage.
"It’s complicated."
Isabella’s expression softened.
"Complicated how?"
Cherie opened her mouth.
Closed it.
How exactly was she supposed to explain this?
How did you summarize months of mistakes?
Months of resentnt?
Months of grief?
How did you explain becoming soone you barely recognized?
"Well..."
She tried again.
"There were these guys that—"
A scream cut through the infirmary.
Every head turned.
The sound echoed violently through the hallways.
Then ca another.
And another.
Voices overlapping.
Boots hamring against tile.
Shouting.
Chaos.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Hale was already standing before the second scream finished.
Alert.
Focused.
Dangerous.
The sa way he’d always been.
Cherie’s stomach dropped.
Sothing was wrong.
Very wrong.
"Outta my FUCKING way!"
The voice bood from sowhere deeper inside the building.
Followed imdiately by crashing equipnt.
Doctors shouting.
People scrambling.
The noise was getting closer.
Fast.
"What the hell is going on?" Isabella whispered.
Nobody answered.
Because nobody knew.
—
Bill marched through the infirmary like he owned it.
People scattered before him.
Nurses.
Patients.
Orderlies.
Anyone with common sense.
Several ard n followed closely behind.
Saul.
Harry.
The rest.
All moving with purpose.
All carrying weapons.
Bill looked disgusted by everything around him.
The clean floors.
The bright lights.
The organized rooms.
The sll of dicine.
As if the entire building personally offended him.
"We gotta do this now."
His voice remained low.
But everyone heard it.
"Especially with half these idiots running downstairs trying to fix this little zombie herpes outbreak."
One of the n snorted.
Saul didn’t.
His focus remained ahead.
Bill continued walking.
"After that?"
He spat onto the floor.
"We’re getting the hell out of this dump."
Saul frowned.
"Downstairs?"
Bill ignored him.
Or maybe chose not to answer.
The result was the sa.
Saul let it go.
There were bigger things to worry about.
Like his brother.
Like Jackson.
Like getting out alive.
Harry walked silently beside them.
Arms folded.
Expression unreadable.
But Bill’s earlier words still lingered in his head.
His father.
Adrian.
Failure.
Weakness.
Every sentence had dug beneath his skin.
And he hated how much of it still bothered him.
—
Jackson was halfway through eating when the door exploded open.
The doctor monitoring him nearly jumped out of his skin.
Several tools clattered onto the floor.
Jackson imdiately looked up.
Confused.
Annoyed.
Then his eyes landed on Bill.
And everything changed.
Bill.
Saul.
Harry.
Standing in the doorway.
For a second Jackson genuinely thought he was hallucinating.
The pain dication.
The blood loss.
Sothing.
Anything.
Because they shouldn’t have been here.
Yet they were.
"Thanks for looking after our friend, doc."
Bill stepped inside.
"But we’ll take it from here."
The doctor imdiately stood.
"You people can’t be in—"
His hand moved toward a walkie-talkie.
Big mistake.
Bill punched him before he could touch it.
The impact echoed through the room.
The doctor hit the floor.
Hard.
Crying out in pain.
Bill barely acknowledged him afterward.
As though swatting away a fly.
Saul moved imdiately.
Straight to Jackson.
Straight to his brother.
"I got you."
Jackson stared at him.
Still trying to process reality.
Saul carefully removed the tubes attached to his arm.
Disconnected monitors.
Ignored the warning beeps.
"I got you, little brother."
The words hit harder than expected.
Jackson’s throat tightened.
He looked away.
Embarrassed by how much relief he felt.
Harry watched quietly.
Arms still folded.
Not saying anything.
Not needing to.
A few monts later Saul had Jackson on his feet.
Supporting most of his weight.
"Co on."
He looked toward Bill.
"We got him."
No response.
Bill was still crouched beside the doctor.
Watching him.
Studying him.
The doctor whimpered.
Bill tilted his head.
Almost curious.
"You think he knows?"
Sothing imdiately tightened inside Saul’s chest.
"Bill."
No response.
"Bill."
The old man remained crouched.
Still staring.
The doctor looked terrified.
Saul felt sick.
"Know what?" Saul asked.
"Bill, co on."
Nothing.
Then finally—
Bill stood.
The mont passed.
Whatever thought had crossed his mind disappeared.
"Let’s move."
Nobody argued.
Not this ti.
The group turned.
And left.
—
Cherie burst through the infirmary doors just in ti to see them.
At first she only recognized Bill.
Impossible not to.
The old bastard moved through the courtyard like he owned it.
Like the world had never ended.
Like rules had never existed.
Then her eyes found Jackson.
Weak.
Injured.
Being carried.
Then—
Saul.
Everything else disappeared.
The noise.
The shouting.
The distant chaos consuming the borough.
Gone.
Only Saul remained.
Sothing twisted inside her chest.
Hard.
Painfully.
She hadn’t expected this.
Not now.
Not like this.
Not after everything.
Saul stopped walking.
Just for a second.
His eyes found hers imdiately.
Across the distance.
Across the crowd.
Neither moved.
Neither spoke.
The mont stretched.
Fragile.
Dangerous.
Cherie wanted to say sothing.
Anything.
Sorry.
Wait.
Don’t go.
None of the words ca.
Her throat refused.
Saul looked like he wanted to speak too.
His mouth opened slightly.
Then closed.
Sothing flickered across his face.
Regret.
Maybe sadness.
Maybe both.
Then he looked away.
And kept walking.
That’s all.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
No final conversation.
Just walking away.
Cherie stood frozen.
Watching him disappear.
Watching the distance grow larger.
Watching sothing she couldn’t quite na leave with him.
And sohow—
Without understanding why.
Without any proof.
Without any logical reason whatsoever.
She knew.
Deep down.
With absolute certainty.
This would be the last ti she ever saw Saul.
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