Translucent droplets cascaded from the silver showerhead, crashing onto Merek's skin in a constant rhythm.
The water was neither warm nor cold—just enough to wash away the grime, the blood, and the stench that clung to him like a second skin. Around him, the muffled sounds of other survivors echoed faintly through the partitioned stalls of the high school bathroom.
Hushed murmurs, the occasional sigh, and the slapping of water against tile created a symphony of temporary peace in a world gone mad.
It had been three days since they'd claimed the gym as a sanctuary. In that time, no one had dared to leave. The air outside was thick with death and danger. Plans were being made, of course—there were always plans—but Merek hadn't attended any of the meetings.
He could barely walk without pain screaming through his thigh and chest, both still wrapped in the white bandages Felicity had secured.
The truth was simpler and more humiliating: he stank.
Even his own nostrils had rebelled against the scent. He'd become a pariah in the gym, not because of his chilling undead aura, but because of the foul odor wafting off his body like a toxic cloud. People didn't hide their reactions. They gave him a wide berth. Even Yuki—who lacked facial expressions entirely—had taken to standing slightly farther from him. Merek wasn't sure how, but he knew she was judging him.
So here he was. Standing naked beneath a stream of water with bandages wrapped around his chest and thigh. The grime peeled away slowly, as if reluctant to release its hold on him. His light brown hair, now darker and soaked, clung to his forehead and cheeks. The sharp scent of disinfectant soap filled the air, mingling with the distant scent of wet concrete and mildew.
With closed eyes and a slight tilt of his head, Merek let his mind drift, sorting through the last three days. Most of his time had been spent honing his telekinesis, working to master its finesse and control rather than relying solely on instinct. In between, he'd studied armour schematics, hoping to craft a higher-tier set for Yuki. Her current armour was rated D—too weak. Every time she engaged in battle, she sustained damage, and he had to patch her up. He needed better for her.
She deserved better.
And then, inevitably, his thoughts returned to Lucas—the boy who called him brother in this world. Merek didn't have a sibling back on Earth, but the bond he'd inherited in this new life, the echoes of love and trust, had etched themselves deep into his soul. Lucas had saved him more than once. And now, Merek had to live up to that loyalty.
The water stopped. He reached for a towel and wrapped it tightly around his waist. His breath fogged slightly in the cooler air as he stepped out of the stall, water dripping from his frame. But the moment he turned, his steps halted.
Standing a few feet away was Felicity.
A white towel clung to her flawless form, hugging her hourglass figure with effortless grace. Her legs were long, powerful, and toned from disciplined training. Droplets of water slid down her shoulders, racing past her collarbone and disappearing beneath the towel. Her wet hair framed her elegant face, sapphire eyes unreadable.
Merek's jaw tightened, and he quickly turned his head, awkwardly adjusting his towel.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, voice lower than usual. "This place is for men."
Felicity gave him a sidelong glance, her expression cool and unbothered. "The women's showers were full."
"But—" He paused, turning just enough to catch her gaze from the corner of his eye. "This is the men's section."
She raised a brow slightly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Does the world's order still matter?"
Without another word, she walked past him and out of the bathroom, leaving behind her faint scent and a sudden chill that wasn't from the cold air.
Merek let out a sigh, running a hand through his damp hair before pulling on the gray top and black pants Professor David had given him earlier. His wounds still ached, but the bath had done wonders. He felt human again.
Moments later, he was summoned to a meeting at a deserted corner of the gym's auditorium. Professor David stood waiting. Beside him were Felicity, Nero, Tevin, and Fred—the five strongest individuals among the thirty-two survivors holed up inside the school. As Merek entered, all eyes turned to him.
David looked around, the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. "We've run out of food," he said bluntly. "By tonight, there'll be nothing left but water."
A heavy silence followed.
"We need food—and we need to check if the school bus is functional. It might be noisy, but we can't stay here forever. There are too many of them out there. Walking to the White Camp is impossible without losing half our number."
"The school has a large cafeteria," Tevin said. "It's in the eastern wing."
He learnt this little detail from a cousin of his that attended the Emerald High School, a high class boarding school with thousands of students!
David nodded. "Exactly. We'll move in teams. One to secure the cafeteria. Another to check the bus. Time is not on our side."
Everyone agreed. Hunger was already gnawing at their stamina. Without sustenance, even the strongest would falter. A vehicle, even a noisy one, might be their only hope to escape the growing horde outside.
The only real worry now… were the mutated zombies.
"Felicity, Tevin, and Nero. You three will go."
Professor David's voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. Nero gave Felicity a brief nod, quiet and focused, while Tevin responded with his usual nonchalance, shrugging as if they were being sent to fetch groceries and not risk their lives among the undead.
A voice cut through the air.
"What about me? Why wasn't I included?"
Merek stepped forward, his damp hair still clinging to his temples, eyes sharp and unwavering. A flicker of pain crossed his features as he shifted his weight—his thigh still throbbed—but he didn't back down.
Professor David met his gaze, his expression softening. "You're injured, Merek. You can't—"
"I'm going."