Once again, it was dark. It was the first thing Evan realized as he opened his eyes. As if the act was useless, nothing around him was discernible. But he definitely had his eyes open. He pinched his cheeks just in case. Yes, he was definitely awake.

"Is anybody there?" he asked nobody in particular. Having had the basics drilled into his heart since a long time ago, he knew better than to raise his voice to catch anybody's attention. Still... it was too dark, too quiet... as if there was nobody alive around him.

He tried to recall what had happened, but his mind was still in a state of stupor. A cloud of mist obscured his thoughts. All he knew was that something wrong had happened. And as he tried to move his head, the sharp pain that followed gave him a hint as to why he couldn't think straight. He gently reached for his head and felt a massive lump on his right temple. It hurt. There was also something sticky adhered to it. He gave it a sniff and the smell of blood and iodine solution immediately assaulted his nose.

It seemed as if he had hit his head. Or maybe, someone had hit his head.

That only meant trouble. He did not need to rely on a fully-functioning brain to figure that out. His body, heavy from fatigue, refused to budge despite his best efforts. But after a while of trying, he managed to turn around and...

"Mold?"

The unique, familiar smell of unwashed sheets jogged his memories. As his hands sunk into the material he quickly recognized the feeling. He was on a bed. Upon realizing it, his body immediately gave up on moving. It let the exhaustion wash over his entire being.

But that didn't stop him from thinking.

Where was he? Did they make it? Is everybody fine? Why is it so dark?

"What happened?"

There was no way they were wiped out if he was able to waste around on a bed. He imagined that the group made it to their destination, where he collapsed due to exhaustion and was carried to bed. He probably got the bump on his head from falling down. That was the only thing that made sense, he tried to convince himself. But at the back of his mind he was still anxious. He needed answers.

But then he heard the sound of a rusty hinge. The door to the room was opened, but there was still no light. He felt a presence enter the room. Though it created no sound with its footsteps, the old floorboards gave their position away. He fought between the idea of asking who this person was or if he should keep quiet. He immediately dismissed the idea that it was Violet, since that woman had completely forgotten the meaning of subtlety. Worst case, it might be an undead... but it was very unlikely since they weren't the kind of creatures who could wander around in silence. But just in case he tensed his body, ready to react to whatever may happen.

The footsteps stopped, beside him.

"Oh. Awake."

A window opened. Evan caught a glimpse of the night sky. Despite the time, the meager moonlight was still able to provide enough illumination to the room. He immediately recognized the woman with excessively long hair.

"Io?"

She brought her face close to him without a word and then palmed his forehead.

"Not hot. Good."

Pain flared up from his temple and caused him to wince slightly. Io had deliberately touched the lump on his head, probably to check the wound. She felt at it for a few seconds before nodding to herself in a satisfied gesture.

"Healing. Good."

"Where is everyone?" he managed to ask. But Io ignored him and walked to his feet. It was only at that point that he noticed that he was barefoot. Without asking, she grabbed his left ankle. A fresh sensation of pain shot through his leg from it. Being caught off-guard, he barely managed to stop himself from yelping.

"... Still hurt. Not good."

Did he also twist his ankle? As Io said, that wasn't good. If anything, that was a complete disaster. Any impairment to his mobility would affect their pace as a group. He couldn't be endangering everybody.

"But. No problem. Still good. Need time."

With that, Io turned to leave. But before she did, Evan managed to call out to her through the turmoil he was experiencing. She stopped in her tracks, but did not turn to face him. He waited in vain for her to say anything before deciding to take the initiative.

"What happened? Did we make it?" he asked. He then paused, as if hesitant to speak further. Io did not reply and simply waited for him to continue. "Where's Violet? And Frank? Are they... alright?"

They were a set of simple questions that took a lot out of him to say. Io was at the lead, and Evan followed them from the rear. Violet was right behind Io, followed by Frank. It wasn't a stretch to say that they were located at the safest positions in that formation. They should be fine if Evan was still alive. But still, Io did not answer. She simply stared at the open door and bided her time.

Then, in the silence that permeated the air, he heard Io sigh. That simple gesture caused his heart to stop beating.

She then looked him in the eye and answered.

"Mm. They made it."

"We didn't."

Utter chaos.

Those were the only words Evan felt apt to describe their mad scramble.

The flashlight Frank carried swung wildly, despite his best efforts to keep it trained forward. The undead swarmed them from every direction, their arms reaching but ultimately failing to scratch their skin through their thick clothing.

Violet barked orders to Frank and Evan continuously, notifying them about undead she had to let pass, or obstacles they had to get through. Frank, who did not have much luxury to swing his weapon, was forced to dodge everything and yell at Evan about it. Io, well, she simply announced what she was doing. And Evan; he simply ran. There was nothing else he could do. Having to step around encroaching undead while jogging with several bags under his arms cost him too heavily.

The cacophony of orders, exclamations, curses, undead groans, the sound of flesh tearing, bones breaking, concrete chipping, fabric rubbing, people panting, water running, bodies dropping, metal clashing... there was no order, no rhythm, no tune between what was fed through their ears and through their eyes. If this had been any other time, they would have been torn apart already. No plan could have had the requisite amount of foresight needed to address the mayhem that faced them. It was humanly impossible. That is, if it had been any other time.

Evan struggled to jog at a brisk pace. He tried his best to move his body as fast as he could, as nimbly as he could. Though the undead could only limp towards them, they were never too far away for comfort. There were simply too many of them. Quantity was a quality of its own.

But surprisingly, everything had been going relatively smoothly. Despite the frantic yelling, the panicked movements, there had never been a time when any of them had been in deep shit. Well, deeper than where they were currently in any way. That was because even though there was an unimaginable amount of undead that stood in their way, barely any of them managed to threaten the group.

It was all thanks to Io.

She maintained a consistent pace, leaving a trail of headless undead behind her. Every swing of her blade, an undead fell to the ground. Each incapacitation was done so swiftly that even the undead, who felt no pain, were left in such a stupor that they were able to go past them without being grabbed by their intact arms.

"Blade, broken. Swapping," she calmly announced, releasing the grip on her last curved sword on her left and pulling another weapon out. All in all, she had gone through three weapons already; two weapons had broken on her right hand and the other on the left.

"Weapon count?"

"One, right. Two, left."

Violet had been carefully keeping track of Io's remaining weapons. Depending on which side still had more, she would focus her attention on the other in order to lessen the burden there.

An assortment of weapons were fastened to several locations on Io's body, from her back to her thighs and sometimes even sewn on her waist garment. Two of them were combat knives and one was an actual sword with particularly high quality. There were already quite a few empty sheathes on her body by then, and she hasn't had the opportunity to remove those from herself. At the present, she was wielding a thin sword on her left, and a cleaver on the right. But regardless of what she used, all of them turned into highly effective weapons.

Her arms traced beautiful curves across the damp air, with each swing precisely striking a neck even through absurd angles. The way she twisted her body, shifted her balance, and launched her attacks on top of maintaining a consistent jogging pace under an erratic source of light exemplified just how excellent her martial ability was. As blood was spilled, bones were shattered, flesh was shredded, the undead fell one after the other, splitting the waves of undead that crashed against them. Never in Evan's life had he seen such a display.

Was that perhaps why Violet was so adamant about recruiting her? If they managed to get out of the city alive, then the addition of Io to their ranks would bolster their effectiveness as a group by miles, and would also open up innumerable possibilities.

"Sword, broken. Swapping."

The sword on her left snapped upon meeting with the neck of an approaching undead. Without missing a beat, she pulled out a knife from her thigh and stabbed the same zombie before severing what flesh and bone remained on it with a kick. Using the momentum her body had built, she swung her cleaver and beheaded another undead before thrusting her other leg forward to fell a group before her.

"Down."

"Got it!"

Violet came in and cleaned up the mess, crushing the heads of all the undead that fell with precise hits using her sledgehammer.

Truly outstanding.

Without paying attention to Violet, Io continued to march forward. As the minutes passed, Evan realized that the exit was within sight. To his surprise there was still sunlight at the end of the tunnel. He thought that they would take far longer to reach it due to something unexpected, and for a while he thought that more time had passed than what actually did.

Inadvertently, he exclaimed "there's the end!" from excitement, which caused Frank to try and peek above the horde.

But, much like what she did to Violet, Io ignored him and kept swinging her arms, never losing a beat. Violet, on the other hand...

"Nice! Good job, everyone! Especially you, Io!"

She had put her constant stream of orders and demands for updates to congratulate everyone with a bright smile. All of that was delivered while she continued smashing the heads of the undead around her.

"Let's celebrate once we get back to camp. It's been a while since we’ve had a drink. I'll get some of Mark's hard stuff from his secret stash. He won't mind!"

Io remained silent, entirely committed to her role as the one on point. The two had very different characters, that much was apparent. However, it made her a really... awkward companion to say the least.

"Knife, broken. Swapping."

Another weapon reached its limit as its blade snapped with a crisp ping. Evan managed to catch a glimpse of it and saw that the entire piece was already rusted beyond belief except for the edge, which looked clean and sharpened. Out of curiosity, Evan took the first opportunity to observe Io's held weapons and saw that those, too, were quite badly corroded. Not only that, but they were heavily worn down.

He remembered the previous night. All Io had on hand to maintain her weapons was a sharpening stone that should have already been thrown out.

Perhaps, did she not know how to maintain them beyond filing the blunted edges?

"Knife, broken. Swapping."

"Io, how far are we?"

"Not far. Stairs, on right. On exit."

As they approached the end of the tunnel, the number of undead in their way started to decrease; fortunate, as Io was down to her last two weapons. Back when they first made their escape, they had to fight particularly hard right as they went out of the room, but afterwards they were able to maintain a relatively uniform speed. As they expected, the straight path a distance away from their room was completely crowded with undead, with barely any space between them. The "alternative", on the other hand, was relatively... "decent". Yes, their frantic fight for survival counted as decent when the other choice basically meant running into a meat grinder.

"How is it behind, Evan?" Violet asked in a manner that seemed like she was making small talk. Amazingly, despite the rigorous activity they've subjected themselves to, she didn't seem winded. "Frank, check our six for a bit. There's enough light from outside."

Another zombie had its mouth caved in with a thrust of her sledgehammer. After confirming a lack of undead in the immediate vicinity, she then signaled Frank that it was OK.

In unison, Frank and Evan turned their sights to their rear with the flashlight as assistance.

There, barely a few meters behind them, a thick, wriggling mass of undead shambled in pursuit. There were quite a number of them which had their jaws smashed in from being hit by Violet, but none of them were the headless victims created by Io. Despite still being able to move without their heads, lacking eyes prevented them from following.

"Fuck, there's so many of them," Evan couldn't help but remarking. He regretted looking back. It was unsettling to know that he was being followed by zombies that could reach him within just a few paces. But they were traveling at a pace that only barely outpaced them, so as long as they did not slow down a beat they should be fine.

"They won't be able to catch us once we jump over that broken bridge, so it's fine."

"Knife, broke. Last weapon."

And right as Violet assured them, Io declared that she was down to her last weapon. It raised serious alarms across the remaining three, palpable through how they all accelerated their pace ever so slightly in what may have been panic.

"Will we make it, Io?!"

"Mmm... Yes. No problem."

Unlike Io's swords, Violet's weapon of choice was much, much more durable. It was also far better maintained. She had found it when they raided a hardware store for tools, and according to the label, it had a rubber handle with a steel core. It had been her main weapon for a couple of years and had never failed her yet.

There would be a real danger if Io's last weapon, a sword with a dark hue, breaks. It was far too dangerous to engage the undead using one's bare hands. Any wound they made, even a scratch, could become a source of infection. Even if the odds were slim for insignificant wounds, taking risk after risk was never a good idea.

Eventually they reached the end of the tunnel, which was a great relief for everyone. But they could not relax just yet. As the great outdoors came into view, they quickly saw where they were supposed to go. Io couldn't describe it properly, but it looked like they came out into what used to be a train station, and following the broken bridge that was easy to spot, their target should be the station's elevated security room.

But between them and their destination was a short path flanked by a wall to the left and a concrete incline that led to a dried-up river on the right. In order to get to the base of the elevated passage, they would have to take one flight of stairs that lead to the platform, then another to get to the bridge itself. The issue was that the first was oriented towards the direction where their pursuers would come from.

"Holy shit, look over there."

Frank called out to him. He pointed towards the right and...

There was a massive horde of undead. Though they were relatively far off, they had clearly spotted them and were making their way over with slow, clumsy steps. Despite not posing any danger to them, just the thought of that many undead closing in was enough to seriously undermine their spirit.

He glanced at his rear again. The undead were still on their heels. Could they go any faster? No, they couldn't. Despite the reduced number of enemies ahead of them, the much narrower path restricted Io's mobility. Perhaps she was being careful not to strike the concrete wall with her sword, but her movement looked severely inhibited.

Violet was slightly less affected. She was able to continue using her weapon to thrust with and push any stray undead down the incline. However, because of the narrow pathway, the undead were forced to face Io. That gave Violet much less things to do. She must have realized it as well, glancing repeatedly behind while briefly pausing as if entertaining the idea of switching places to the rear. They hadn't planned that far, hence the hesitation. In the end, she decided against it, which was ultimately the correct choice.

It was the one time they faced a truly desperate situation.

"Up!"

Io exclaimed through gnashed teeth. As they started to ascend the stairs that came up to the platform, several undead meandered their way and came upon them from above. Violet managed to react in time and pushed one of them away. But there were more than one of them.

A zombie fell on top of Frank. Violet screamed at him, but was unable to assist due to having her own enemy to deal with. Then another. Evan tried to help, but not a moment had even passed before another undead fell on him too. He tried to wrestle with it, fighting for his life, but the supplies strapped onto him weighed his arms down. It was also difficult to deal with dead weight. He looked around for help and saw that Violet had jumped up the platform to deal with the others. Frank, still struggling, was on the verge of being able to shake off the undead on top of him. Evan, however, couldn't. He wasn't as strong as Violet nor as skilled with his hands as Frank. All he could do was hold the zombie, who had managed to grab onto the straps on his back, away from his flesh.

It'll be okay, he thought. As long as he could hold out against that one undead, Violet would be able to take care of the remainder and help him. That, or Frank would be able to get rid of the one on his neck.

But then he felt something wrap around his ankle. A floating sensation overtook him as the pavement rushed towards his face.

"Evan! Shit!!"

They had relocated themselves to a living room of sorts. Despite that, the only things that were left intact were a table made of stone and three chairs. It looked like the place had once been quite decadent in the past, with a marble fireplace, a giant sofa, a large flat screen TV and even a bar. But all of those had already suffered the wrath of a decade of wear and tear... or from the deathly struggle there in the past. That was what the dried bloodstains across the floor and walls suggested anyway. A thick layer of dust also covered everything except the table that Io had wiped clean.

She sat on one of the chairs; furniture that she had dragged from elsewhere according to her. Well, it was obvious given how atrociously it matched the table. She was diligently sorting through their supplies, separating them based on whether it survived their run or not. Thankfully the only items that looked unsalvageable were those stored in the glass jars that had all been broken, and most of them contained foodstuffs that she could transfer onto other containers anyway.

Evan sat instead on the windowsill.

Both of them had spent the better part of the last hour in complete silence. But it wasn't awkward. Despite the groaning and the occasional scratching and knocking sounds that came from the nearby barricaded door, they were relatively relaxed; compared to his panicked state when he woke up at least. For Evan, it was all thanks to the sight of a small flickering light in the distance.

"They're fine, huh. We're doing okay too. And... understood."

Morse code. He had learned it during his stay with the group as a precaution for when they needed to communicate over long distances. Unfortunately he did not have anything to reply with. He swore to himself to convince the group to assign at least one flashlight per person when he got back. Despite the difficulty in obtaining batteries, it was an expense that was well worth the lives it could save.

What about phones? Well, several years of fighting tooth and nail for survival typically created a lot of broken gadgets...

He sighed with a mix of both relief and disappointment. There was nothing he could do but wait.

Below them, a massive horde of undead had gathered. They appeared as nothing more than an army of ants writhing with activity. There were far more of them than he remembered, which he attributed to their nature of crowding. According to Io, quite a lot of them had come from the sewers. Everything else either came from the city itself or from the bombed-out ruins nearby, attracted to all the commotion they had caused. There was also a sizable number of them hanging out underneath where Violet and Frank had made camp, but it was nowhere near in size compared to theirs.

"So, what now?" he asked. There was still a big issue to address, and he hoped to take care of it quickly. "You're the only one who knows where to go, but we have no way to communicate with them."

Io ignored him.

"... Do you have a flashlight? Or any way to start a fire?"

Without even acknowledging him, she continued sorting their supplies neatly on the table. Evan felt his blood pressure bubble for a moment before he forced himself to calm down.

"Io."

That was the only time she responded to him. While he knew that she was the type to not answer unless called by name, it still put him off considering they were the only ones present.

"Is there any way we can communicate with them? Or get to where they are?"

She stood up and walked over to the window where Evan sat. Then she unceremoniously shoved half of her body out, forcing Evan to make way for her, and looked towards the ground. After a few seconds of observing their surroundings, she looked at him and shook her head.

"No chance. Too many. Underground, maybe. Possible. Can go."

To say that he didn't expect that answer would be a lie, but he would have rather heard the opposite. According to Io, she managed to run to this building while carrying him. This wasn't one of her camps, but rather just a building that caught her eye because it was rather tall and within safe distance to run to. She ran up to the highest floor, decapitated the two undead residents, and then barricaded the door with the nearby shelves. There was a rooftop as well, which was unexplored. The door that led to it was accessible from where they were, but it was locked shut. Through the door, she said she could hear a few undead.

First of all, it was quite amazing to learn that she had carried him, a fully-grown man, for quite a distance while fighting off the undead. He had an inkling as to how strong she was due to his experience underground, but it was still quite shocking. He knew Violet was nonsensically strong, but to meet another one like her within one lifetime was something else.

"Do you have a plan then? We can't just move without notifying the others."

She tilted her head, a cute gesture if it wasn't for the situation, and thought. As she did, she would sometimes sneak a glance at him for some reason. Then, she faced the window and held out her hand as if holding a baseball. She repeatedly clutched her hand, imitating the motion of squeezing a stress ball. Evan watched her in silence as she continued without any idea what she was doing. It looked... stupid, yet somehow he felt that she was trying to do something. But after a while of that, she turned back to Evan and shook her head.

"... No. No plan."

Bitter disappointment and resignation was written across her face, as if she had expected her failure.

"What were you trying to do?" he asked meekly, his mood affected by her distress. Yet again she didn't reply. Somehow he felt that she wasn't deliberately ignoring him for not asking her directly like she did previously. It was more like she just didn't feel like responding. It was like a wall had been erected between them made by a tragic circumstance that Evan couldn't understand.

He wasn't unfamiliar with that kind of situation. Being a man of music, people wrestling with their emotions was something he was used to seeing. While that sense had definitely degraded over the past decade, especially if one considered the pragmatism Evan had adopted years ago, it was impossible for it to completely atrophy.

She walked away with her head hanging. Evan wanted to call out to her but was stopped by the crushing sensation of knowing he shouldn't. Instead, after glancing at the place where Violet and Frank were again, he just followed her to the table and took the chair opposite where she sat.

Another round of silence took over. Unlike earlier though, it was more awkward. The air was heavy with trepidation. Io had stopped rummaging through their supplies and instead just spent her time looking at the palms of her hands.

What was he to say in that situation?

He thought seriously about how to break the ice when...

"I'm sorry."

There was no build-up at all. She simply squeezed out an apology, causing Evan to look up towards her in surprise. He could see her clenching her hands on top of her knees while still keeping her head down. And despite the darkness of the room, he could still see her shoulders trembling.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"My fault. Was not careful. Not enough. You almost died..."

It was his turn to tilt his head in wonder. Evan didn't think that it was her fault at all. Everything she had requested and done so far was well within the bounds of common sense. If anything, Violet had been the one acting without rhyme. He had agreed to the whole underground excursion due to sentimentality and her persistence; considerations that Io had no weight in. And at the end of the day, they had almost done what he had thought was impossible. If the world was full of people like them, would the day when the undead ceased to exist finally be within reach?

Though he knew that complete salvation was unlikely, the more he thought about it, the more confident he became of Violet's decision. Saving the world might be a pipe dream, but saving their own lives was a good compromise, and that calmed his nerves down.

"No, no, it wasn't your fault."

"It is. Long way, better. Not dangerous... Should have stopped. Could convince her..."

He was taken aback. She was suddenly being talkative even though it was on something he didn't want to dwell on. Her already static-like voice had become even fuzzier. But more importantly, Evan found himself unable to reply because he... agreed with her. If anyone could have changed Violet's mind at that time, it was her.

Well it was no use crying over spilled milk. He had already made peace with the situation and was now looking for means to move forward with. That was why having to deal with someone who didn't was troubling.

"Look, I'm not angry, and I don't think they are either. Trust me, I know those people. If you ask me, Violet might actually be itching for more since she hasn't had any good exercise lately. She's a battle maniac. What's more important is what we'll do from now on."

"... Understood. But still..."

They might not have known each other for long, but Evan had the impression that Io was an imperturbable person. She had been in the background ever since they met, so there was a chance that she was just being shy around them. Maybe she was being more open because they were alone together? If so, then did that mean she had some sort of trauma attached to similar incidents?

That would make sense. She was strong. The strong were the kind of people the weak relied on for protection. Then... did she fail in the past?

Evan wasn't used to dealing with people like her. "Men of music" might be used to seeing people drown in their emotions, but that didn't mean they were good at handling them.

"Fine, then how about this: if you get all of us out in one piece, then I... we'll forgive you. Deal?"

So he just took a page out of Violet's book and resorted to reverse-bargaining.

"... Okay."

Truly, there is nothing more expensive than something free. It was similar to how Evan felt relieved when he heard that Io would join them only after they ran an errand with her. For her, forgiveness came with a task.

Thankfully Io calmed down after that. But still it seemed like she had reverted back to her shy, quiet personality. Perhaps she felt suffocated by the responsibility? At least it was an improvement to her trembling state where she looked so small despite her strength.

Evan struggled to improve the mood. After that one exchange he realized that Io was an earnest girl, so he felt ashamed at the idea of leaving the awkwardness to fester. It was a golden opportunity to learn more about the girl who was likely going to formally join their ranks in the near future.

He decided on the easiest one to talk about.

"You're really strong. You got us through those tunnels without getting hurt at all. Where did you learn to fight?"

It also served to increase her self-confidence. Compliments go a long way especially on someone in a vulnerable state.

Io looked up at him, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She looked down again for a moment, hesitating, before she responded with a soft voice.

"My mothers... they taught me. Many things. Fighting, mostly."

"Mothers? So you had two mothers, huh?"

Same-sex couples were rather rare but had been trending since several years before the apocalypse. Evan didn't understand the politics behind it, but quite frankly he didn't care. Let people love who they want, he thought. Anyway he had already achieved his objective of making small talk, so all he had to do was follow along with the flow of the conversation and learn more.

"Two? No. Four."

"Huh?"

He couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. Four mothers? What, was it something like "the mother who birthed me, the mother who cared for me" and others? It was also possible that she had grown up with them and treated each one as a parent. It took him a good moment to recover before he felt that he could continue, but before he was able to, Io dropped another bombshell.

"Father. I also have. One."

"Lucky bastard!" he shouted internally.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing!" he stammered.

Io looked at him with confusion as he struggled to recover from all the details. Aware of this, he decided to put the thought on hold and tried to continue with the conversation while wearing the straightest face he could muster.

"So, uhh, your mothers. They must get along well if they manage to raise someone as good as you."

"No. Two of them, hate father. Hate each other, too."

"What the fuck is with your family?" he thought. He tried hard to process everything just to catch up. She had four mothers, but two of them hated each other and the father? What about the other two?

... He had a feeling that trying to understand her family situation was a slippery slope, so he decided to just force the topic away from it. He could just learn about them gradually. Honestly, it did sound like an interesting topic, but Evan felt that he deserved a break after being hit by a couple of left hooks consecutively.

"What kind of weapons have they taught you? You're obviously gifted with swords and knives, but we have an assortment of other arms at camp."

Io paused to think.

"Lots. But. Best with swords. Spears, okay too."

Evan took the bare sword Io offered to him hilt-first. Upon holding it he was shocked by its weight. It was quite heavy, even without the sheath. He guessed that it must have weighed around five kilograms or over ten pounds. In fact he almost dropped the sword when Io released her hand.

It was Io's last weapon, as she had broken all the others during their fight out of the tunnel. And as he beheld the sword in his hands, he understood why she brought it out last.

The sword was a work of art. The blade of around a hundred-forty centimeters was forged or finished in a way that gave it a dark luster, which made it shine eerily even under the meager light of the moon. On the flat face of the blade, a line was engraved along its length in beautiful penmanship: "the moon, for my flower." He had no idea what that meant, but it told him that the sword was not a prop. If it was, then the inscription would either be in fancy Latin or some other extinct language. At least that was his generalization. The blade had a single edge similar to those Japanese katanas, but instead of being curved slightly the blade instead looked like half of a European sword with a perfectly straight cutting edge and back.

"It's almost a waste to use this just to kill zombies," he thought. It looked like it belonged in a museum for blacksmiths instead.

The hilt was also a fine example of professional workmanship. The cross-guard was shaped in the form of a cross when viewed together with the rain guard and the grip. In the middle where the four parts intersected was an image of the moon in both its waning and crescent phase on top of each other. But instead of being perfectly superimposed like most depictions, they were etched slightly apart such that it appeared like there were two moons. The grip lacked the usual leather cover that Evan often saw; it was simply a tapered shaft of metal with carved patterns so it won't slide out of one's hands easily.

Strangely enough, the sword did not have a pommel. Instead the grip bulged out significantly at the end.

"Where did you get this?"

Evan handed the sword somewhat dolefully back to Io, who returned it to its plain-looking sheath. He guessed that she might have taken it from the home of a blacksmith; a vocation that had been on the decline yet still existed. Those articles would often be their masterwork and kept either in full display or under lock and key.

"Mine. Gift."

What kind of person would give a girl a sword as a gift? He shook the thought out of his head. Right, it was the apocalypse.

Anyway, the more he heard about her family the more his head hurt from all the strange information that she fed him. He thought hard about anything he could use to throw the conversation in another direction.

But then, a loud knock was heard from the nearby barricaded door. They jumped in alarm and prepared for the worst, but besides the guttural sounds that came from the undead behind it, nothing else of note happened. There were a few scratching and bumping noises that followed, but the commotion gradually died down.

"... We should probably lower our voice."

"Understood."

They returned to their seats and paused. While they could just relocate to one of the many rooms the suite had, Io had mentioned earlier that they were all reduced to scenes of carnage. The room Evan had rested in was one of the few rooms that survived. He hadn't seen any of those other rooms himself, but he trusted Io well enough to believe her.

The disturbance had interrupted Evan's train of thought and he found himself unable to continue their conversation. They spent a few, awkward moments in silence.

What should they talk about? What were they talking about earlier, anyway?

"Oh, right, her sword."

But just when he raised his head, Io thrust a pack of... something to him.

"... Dinner? Not sure. Night already. Short day."

He was surprised, for a lack of better words. She was not only earnest, but also thoughtful. However...

"Coffee powder?"

He thanked her anyway and received the package with a twitching smile. Should he return it? Should he pretend he wasn't hungry? Or should he just bite the metaphorical bullet? Unfortunately for him, there wasn't actually a choice. Io's innocent expression didn't allow for anything else but the latter choice. So, he spread the packet open with both hands and...

"Oh?"

He spotted a bottle of water beside the table. Grateful that he didn't have to spend the night licking powder from his fingers, he reached for the bottle as if it was natural. He then poured an inordinate amount of the powdered stuff into the bottle without even checking if the water inside had gone rotten.

The bitter taste should wake him right up.

He drank a mouthful and immediately recoiled. Perhaps he didn't read the fine print, because what he had was actually espresso powder.

"What the hell, don't you usually have the "espresso" on a larger font?"

There was still quite a lot of it in his mouth. He wanted to spit it out, but decided against it in the end. If they were going to stay there for a while then it would be prudent to avoid making a mess out of the already-messed up place. So he just slowly swallowed what remained.

"Food, good?"

"Y-yeah, it's good."

It would have been better if it was hot and he had some chocolate with him, but chocolate had mostly become extinct by then, and it was extremely difficult to find unopened packs of cocoa powder. Still, Io sighed in what sounded like relief. It then crossed his mind: did she prank him? Her reaction definitely suggested that she didn't, and he felt like she wasn't capable of doing so.

Did she not know what coffee was?

As he spent more time with her, he realized that she only became more and more mysterious; suspicious, really.

Io then started to grope around the neat stacks of supplies she had organized. She had grouped them in a very straightforward manner based on a universal standard that most men of boorish natures would; by their packaging.

Evan palmed his face. That couldn't be real. Upon properly adjusting to the darkness, he realized that there were foodstuffs mixed in with the hygiene products and the electronics. They were very easy to differentiate too. Most of the items had giant labels. Thus he sat there in horror as Io grabbed a box of glue and took a curious whiff.

The room may be dark, but it wasn't that dark.

"No fucking way. Is she... illiterate?"

He shook his head. The idea was too absurd to be true. However, like several puzzle pieces that had been out of reach which suddenly started assembling themselves without help, everything started to click.

Io looked very young. She looked no more than seventeen or so years old. That meant that she must have been around six or seven years of age during the first Leak, placing her at around first grade at the time. Did that mean her "mothers" did not teach her how to read, and possibly write? It also explained why she had trouble talking. If one considered how strong she was in a fight, enough that she could plow through a crowd of unflinching undead without getting hurt, then it was possible that her family spent the last decade training her, without teaching her much else.

It made sense.

"Wrong?"

"Huh?"

"Eyes, sad."

She looked at him with upturned eyes laced with a heaping of concern. The way she showed her emotions reminded him of a child. The thought that she had survived months, possibly years without knowing what coffee or glue was hit him in places that haven't felt anything for a long time.

"I'm okay," he replied, forcing a smile through his heavy heart. "Let me help."

He couldn't stand watching her continue as is. He took the box of glue from her hands and told her that it was not food. After a cursory glance around the neat stacks of supplies before them, he quickly spotted a sealed pack of hardtack and gave it to Io. Her head was bowed in embarrassment as she took it from him following a few words of appreciation. She then opened the package... on the wrong side. The sound of the plastic being pulled apart in a way it wasn't meant to resounded rather loudly against the backdrop of almost complete silence, causing Evan to frown slightly.

As he drank his excessively bitter coffee, he continued to observe her every actions, partially out of amusement. Upon getting hold of a piece of the hard ration, she stared at it for a short while before taking a bite, utterly destroying it in the process. She didn't even struggle with it, like she was just taking a bite out of a piece of crispy cracker.

"So, her jaws can crush rocks, sure," he mused.

It didn't take long for Io to give her review of the food. Her expression dropped in disappointment. That was when Evan remembered, much to his consternation, that hardtack was infamously bland; most of them, anyway. In his haste to provide her with actual food, he forgot the basic preparation for what he gave him. Or, perhaps, it was because taste had become a luxury. Maybe he had gotten so used to eating insects and berries, as well as scavenged food of questionable origins that "food prep" had become a foreign concept.

Shame burned his cheeks.

"Sorry, my bad. Give it here."

Upon receiving the plastic bag from her, he poured a generous amount of his coffee into it. Unfortunately the water bottles with the dried fruit slices were all in the bag carried by Frank, so he did not have a sweeter-tasting liquid to soften up the hardtack. While thinking of such things, he placed the bag on the table and propped it up with two cans.

Io, as if she was witnessing the start of the universe, observed his every move with wide-eyed wonder. She continued to observe the bag even after he had placed it on the table. It was quite the mortifying experience, really. He wanted to ask her to stop staring, but her face radiated the kind of pure, childish curiosity that he found it rather difficult to contest.

"Here, what?"

"I'm softening it up and adding flavor."

"Flavor? Okay..."

Her gaze intensified after he answered her, and for a moment he was worried that she might bore a hole through the plastic with her eyes.

After a while of waiting he deemed that enough time had passed for no particular reason. Perhaps he had found his fill of watching Io act like a cat.

He gave the bag to Io, who held it in her hands carefully like it was the Holy Grail. Upon his urging, she took one of the soaked hardtack and bit into it.

Her eyes visibly widened.

"This. Coffee?"

"Oh, yes it is. Why?"

"... Tasty."

Her bites were small. Io relished each moment she spent chewing the still-hard biscuit. Often her shoulders would tremble meaningfully. It was the first time Evan had seen someone so happy eating bland food soaked in bitter, years-old coffee. Even after she finished with the hardtack, her delight didn't wane at all as she started slowly sipping what liquids remained in the pack. Watching her was almost therapeutic.

"Here, you can have mine if you want."

"Mm... Can't. Yours."

"Don't worry, I'm already full."

Of course he wasn't. But he didn't care. Not anymore.

Io looked up at him from a bowed head. She meekly reached her hands out and received the bottle from him.

"Thank you. Very."

If Io had a tail he was sure that it would have been wagging. He made a mental note that Io liked coffee, even really bitter ones. She thanked him with a small voice and started sipping from the bottle even slower than she did earlier.

"You like coffee that much?" he asked, finally finding a topic to talk about.

"Yes. My mothers: all love it. But, hard to get. At home, doesn't grow."

Yet again, Io mentioned her mothers. It seemed like a lot of facets in her life had been influenced or directly due to her parents. Still, a place with no coffee? What, like Antarctica?

"What's your favorite food, then?"

"Mm..."

She sunk into thought, still sipping on the bottle. Her head gradually tilted to one side and then the other. The time she took made him think how hard it was to reply with similar questions. A lot of people are aware of what kind of food they really like, whereas some have difficulty weighing their options.

Fortunately for Evan, he was part of the former. He loved pizza. Unfortunately for Evan, when asked what kind of pizza, he belonged to the latter. He had no idea what to answer. He liked all of them. So... yes, he belonged to the latter.

"Pizza."

"Huh?"

"Pizza. I like."

Was it a coincidence? Perhaps. But the way Io licked her lips as she thought about the same food Evan liked told him that it wasn't. Still, pizza? Where and when did she get to eat one at such a young age? Well, it wasn't completely off the table. Some settlements, in their effort to recreate everyday life prior to the apocalypse, started to sell modern food, though only to a limited extent. For example, pepperoni became basically extinct when the plants had shut down.

Evan swallowed. The thought of eating pizza again made his mouth water. The bodies of men are notoriously honest, so he wasn't able to stop his stomach from crying out. He immediately refused the bottle Io had offered out of concern.

"What else... oh, where are your parents?"

He decided to tackle a more serious topic. There was the possibility that she wasn't alone, so he wanted to make sure beforehand. But Violet guessed that Io was, amazingly, all by herself. Considering how unreasonable her instincts were, she was likely right, though he had no idea how she reached that idea.

If she was trained by her parents to be that strong, then it was entirely plausible that they were at least as strong, if not stronger than Io was. He guessed that Violet would also go through heaven and hell to recruit them. And depending on the situation, she might even "convince" the others to track her parents down just to do so.

But the moment Io's head lowered and she stopped sipping from the bottle he realized he made a mistake.

Regardless of how strong each individual or group was, danger was still danger.

"Father, dead. Two mothers, dead. One back home. The last... I don't know. Looking."

"Do you have any idea where she is?"

She shook her head dejectedly.

"You're looking for her all alone? What about your other mother?"

"She... wouldn't. Hate each other," her shoulders shrunk further into her body as she replied. Evan remembered that she mentioned two of them didn't like the other. It just so happened that the ones who remained with her were the ones who were at each others' necks. But, he doubted that those two wanted the other dead. They were still family, at least to her.

"You? Family."

Either she didn't want to talk about her side anymore or she became curious of his own circumstances after talking about hers at length; her upturned expressions didn't show much for him to guess. Regardless, she had already thrown the ball to his side of the court, so he had to respond. It wasn't like he had anything to hide, anyway.

He removed the glove that covered his left hand, raising it to show a silver ring that adorned his ring finger.

"I have a wife... and a child. They're quite far away."

"Wife? Not with you?"

A perfectly reasonable question. After all, it's your wife. Spouses were always meant to be together, unlike their children who were expected to live on their own after they come of age. While the times have made the latter part of that statement only occasionally true, the first part was still expected of everyone.

Unless...

"Yeah. We were separated. When all of this shit came down, she was in another state visiting her parents. I was supposed to follow her a few days later."

"'Flight'?"

"Uhh, yeah, through plane. No more planes fly now, though. Our group is headed towards that direction now anyway, so I'll be able to meet her again."

The thing is, they were only headed westward. It was a decision that did not factor his circumstances. His destination only happened to be towards that direction, so the journey will take an additional few years considering their journey will require them to make stopovers on settlements, do supply runs, and other reasons. They've survived for several years together, collecting equipment and talents. They had grown strong. But that didn't mean they could survive on their own.

"She... good? Your wife, happy... How? Umm..."

She struggled to form her words. The hesitation was apparent with the trembling in her voice. It felt like there was fear in her footsteps that might trigger a landmine. But to Evan, this topic wasn't anything he disliked talking about. While he was worried about his wife and child, the circumstances that surrounded his relationship with them weren't mired in complicated feelings or grudges. So, while he did not know exactly what Io was asking, he decided to talk a little about his own family by his own volition.

"Can't say much about my child, since we haven't met yet. But, my wife... she was, how do you say this, spirited? I was the gloomy type back in college, so nobody really came to talk to me, and I always spent my free time alone until we met in class."

He started reminiscing fondly about his wife; about the time they met, when they started dating, the fights they had, the troubles they encountered, their marriage... Io simply sat in silence, listening to everything attentively. Sometimes she would raise her hand to ask questions, and other times she would mouth side comments in a voice soft enough to not interrupt him. Io was a really good listener, and Evan quite enjoyed talking with her about him.

A surprising amount of time had passed when Evan had finally finished. His parched throat ached, but it was the good kind of pain that came with the liberation of being able to talk at length about someone he had affection for. Most of the people back at camp didn't care, and while Violet did, she was the kind of person to make unnecessary and insensitive remarks just because she could. Besides, they still had some bottled water, even if the contents had an undesirable smell.

As he downed the bottle with gusto, he observed Io as she wrestled with some thoughts. He expected her to share her impressions, but what she said blew his mind.

"Your wife. Like Violet?"

He choked on the water that was in the middle of his throat, causing it to erupt unceremoniously out of his nose.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded through a clogged nasal cavity. "They don't resemble each other at all."

"Mm... Violet: outgoing. Lively. Friendly. Silence, dislike. Physical. Like wife. Yes?"

Evan's jaws hung lifelessly. The idea was absolutely outlandish to him. Even in his right mind he would deny it with all of his heart despite Io making good points.

"No way. In the first place, my wife isn't a violent battle-maniac like Violet."

He shook his head in an attempt to rid his thoughts of the absurdity. Io simply stared questioningly, genuinely baffled by his denial. But since he repudiated it so much, Io, who hadn't actually met Evan's wife yet, nor has she gotten to know Violet after such a short time together, could only accept his words despite all her confusion.

"Relationships... complicated," she muttered.

"And? What about you? Got anyone you like?"

In an effort to turn his thoughts away from the ridiculous claim Io made, Evan redirected the topic back to her. It was a casual question that most people would feel flustered asking, but since they were already on the topic anyway he felt that it was a natural follow-up. Although that was the thought, he still expected her to think about the matter, or at the very least hesitate to give an answer, but against his expectations she readily answered him.

"None."

She was at the prime of her life yet she didn't have anybody she particularly fancied?

To be fair, most men at that point had become degenerates; people who would muscle their way through anything and everything to take what wasn't theirs. The largest subsection of survivors could be classified as bandits, and they were mostly men. Scavengers like them had to be prepared to face them, or else know how to avoid confrontation if they didn't want to be robbed from. That was especially so for their group, as they had amassed a comparatively large amount of equipment.

Also, they had a lot of women, which made them really appealing targets.

Without much thought, he told Io about the bandit problem the world had, and immediately her face turned sour.

"Worse than undead. Humans..."

"Got that right. Undead won't point guns at you. That's why decent people like us have to stick together."

He shrugged.

"Us guys are more likely to get killed and robbed than killed and eaten. I don't know if it'll be better for the women, since bandits treat them more like commodities. So far we've been fine since we have Violet and several military types with guns, but who knows when and where we'll encounter bigger or better-equipped brigands? If that happens, well..."

He wouldn't see his wife again. He wouldn't ever meet his child. Those thoughts caused him crippling anxiety and he suddenly found himself too down to continue the conversation. But Io, who wasn't aware of his conundrum, suddenly declared:

"Decided!"

She stood up with her left fist clenched in front of her chest. It was a gesture of conviction, ruined by her right hand still holding the half-finished bottle of espresso close to her mouth. The outburst startled Evan, and he found himself pushed back.

"Will help. Your wife, we'll find."

Those words calmed him somewhat.

"Thanks. But I don't think you'll get to see them. I might have to separate with the group one day."

The group's actual destination was set to Montana, which was now called Meadow Springs, where they had heard rumors of a large settlement being built. Most settlements could only expand to a certain size due to the threat of the undead from the sky, but the rumors came with the information that the settlement was being built within its many caves. While it had been done before, with varying degrees of success, the news that arrived via hearsay was optimistic enough that many scavenger groups, including theirs, felt that it was worth checking out.

Of course, Evan didn't mention this to Io. Being prudent was a virtue. He trusted that Violet hadn't told her either. But his destination was in Utah, which was not part of the group's planned route. That was why he planned to leave either shortly before or after they arrived at the rumored settlement.

"You're being hired by the group, so you should stay with the group. There's safety in numbers. Plus, you might find a safe place to settle in someday."

"House, not looking. But... with you, can't come?"

It would certainly boost his chances of survival if she traveled with him, but...

How would Violet react? Or the actual leader? Would they be willing to let go of such a talent or two? Each one lost would be a big blow to the group. Even Julyette's death, regardless of her cowardice, was something that necessitated an immediate replacement that matched the firepower she provided. Io would be that and possibly more if she turned out to also be a good shot.

He shook his head. They would definitely not be willing. And that's what he told Io. But for some reason she had become quite adamant about it.

"No. Will help: find your wife. Find mother. Go on journey. Mothers said: journey good. See world. Three things."

Excitement aplenty laced her broken sentences. Evan found it hard to understand what she was so hyped up about. She made it sound like they were going on a picnic. He felt that he should remind her that the journey was a dangerous one, and to always doubt the intention of others. But at the same time he was relieved that she had expressly declared her intention to help him, and not just the group as a whole.

It was very fortunate that they had met her first. If a group of bandits had absorbed her into their ranks instead... The thought was enough to give him a fright.

For someone who lived in the age of mankind's decline, Io was... gullible. To put it nicely, she was naïve. Evan wasn't the kind of person who would mislead someone, especially one who Violet had vouched for. But it wasn't like he had told her everything there is to know. For instance, he had deliberately avoided talking about the people back at camp, such as their numbers and equipment. While Violet had tried to entice her with supplies and weapons the night before, she also avoided placing all of their cards on the table. Perhaps she was saving them for later use? He wouldn't know.

"Also, get husband."

"... Wait, huh?"

"Husband, good. Mothers said. Will find," she declared while looking at Evan eye to eye.

He found his jaw dropping for the second time that night. He suddenly felt unsure. His feeling that she was treating the whole expedition as a picnic seemed accurate. A facepalm wasn't enough to express what he felt.

"Okay, okay, got it."

Interacting with her was almost as tiring as doing so with Violet. He absentmindedly dismissed her and turned to look at the sky outside the window. They've been talking for roughly over an hour by then, so it was passable to refer to the time as still in the middle of the night. He was tired. He was also hungry, but that wasn't anything new.

It had been a fruitful night, at least in interpersonal relationship development. That said, there was nothing else they could do until the sun rose. He decided to turn in for the night.

"Oh, going?"

"Yeah, it's pretty late. Want me to keep watch first?"

Though he did feel tired, he knew he wasn't as tired as the hero of the day. If anything, it was a miracle that she was still able to stay awake at all. As he recalled the time when she suddenly fainted as they were running away, he couldn't help but worry. But to his astonishment, Io simply smiled and waved off his concern as if it was nothing.

"I'm fine. Still awake. You sleep," she replied as she slung her sword to her waist.

He doubted her words, but it certainly did seem like she wasn't drowsy at all. Her eyes were still wide open, and her gestures were still crisp and sharp. Even the tone of her voice suggested that she could still function normally.

Fact of the matter was that Evan had little room to argue with. If anybody else compared how they looked then it was obvious that he was the one who needed to sleep, not her.

That was why he relented. He bid her a pleasant night and went back to the room with Io waving him off.

It was then that he realized, too late, that he forgot to ask why she stayed in the city for so long.

Io sat on the windowsill, the same one Evan had been on earlier that night. Her gaze beheld the dead city below her with contempt. But, none of the open disdain she expressed was pointed to the undead horde that continued to writhe aimlessly underneath her.

The cities were no longer a place for humans to live in. An expanse of rubble and abandoned structures reclaimed by nature painted a horrifying caricature of the fall of civilization. Modernity, which used to take pride in its smooth walls and straight roads, were reduced to broken facades and weed-ridden paths.

Everything was ripe for the taking, and Io was well aware of the unethical implications of her thoughts. Still, she extended her hand, covering the scene before her, and grasped. Her goal was finally within reach. She had finally found the means to achieve it. But, as with everything, it would take time.

She clicked her tongue and grimaced.

She raised the bottle to her mouth and drank from it. Upon tasting the bitter, slightly unpleasant liquid it contained, her expression softened a little. Then, she took something from a pocket on her lower back; a box of cigarettes and a match. With practiced movements she lit a stick on her mouth and sucked out a disturbing length into ashes. She then inhaled and took a moment, letting the smoke calm her nerves, before finally exhaling deeply.

Her mothers have always told her that smoking was bad for her health. However they seemed to like it as well. According to them, it was a habit they picked up from her birth-mother, and they were reminded of her whenever they did. But for Io, it was simply an addiction.

The first stick barely lasted two minutes, and after she had finished, she threw the butt out of the window and lit another. The second cig, she intended to savor for a while longer.

Her gaze focused. At the distance, just across a dried-up river, was a lone building roughly three or four stories tall. Through the clear, slightly mottled glass she could see a small source of light swaying side to side as if trying to catch her attention. It did.

Just in case, she looked back towards the hallway, rather, towards the room where Evan slept. She sensed that he was sound asleep. That was good.

"You were right," she whispered. Her eyes went back to the small point of light in the distance. It had stopped moving, as if telling her that it was listening. She smiled, almost sarcastically. "Good man. He is."

She placed the cigarette on her mouth again and kept it there. She then covered her eyes with both of her hands and then removed it. She repeated the motion several times, with varying durations on every cycle. From the side, it would appear like she was playing peekaboo. All the while, wisps of smoke would escape her mouth before dispersing to the dark sky.

When only an inch of tobacco was left on her cigarette, she sucked what remained in one go. The ash fell upon the horde of undead beneath her like an offhand insult. She kept the smoke in her lungs for a while before exhaling it in a long, satisfying stream.

The light flashed once for the final time. As it disappeared, the world beneath her was completely enveloped in darkness again.

Evan awoke with a start.

A loud explosion drummed at his ears and forced him out of his bed. The first thing he did was to look at the sky through the open window. The sun had just risen from the horizon. It was their default time of operations when the convenience of clocks had disappeared. As expected of both of them; they were punctual and knew exactly when Evan expected them to act.

Upon realizing the time, however, panic set in.

Before he left to rest, he told Io to wake him up after roughly four hours so he could take over watch duty. The fact that he woke up at dawn meant that she had spent the entire night awake, which placed her waking hours at twenty-four. He feared that she might be too tired to continue the next leg of their run. He hoped that she might have just fallen asleep at some point. It was a fatal mistake to do so, yes, but for that one case he hoped she did.

He quickly tied his boots to his feet and slung both the rifle and his bat to his back. Fortunately, his ankle seemed much better since last night. Since tap water was also a foregone convenience, and what water they did have on hand was precious, he simply rubbed the sand off his eyes and slapped the stupor out of his face.

With the miss of not being able to take over for Io, he exited the room with a flustered expression.

On the table were the three bags of supplies he had carried through the tunnels. The items that Io had organized the night before seemed to have already been returned inside. He nodded his approval before calling out to her again.

"Io, we need to get ready. That explosion will draw the undead out of the halls, so Violet and Frank should be able to make their way here soon."

He had no idea how those two were able to create an explosive, considering they did not have anything to make one, but between Violet's street smarts and Frank's military experience, he wasn't the least bit surprised that they were able to do so.

Evan stood by the door and kept an ear open. Judging by the time of the explosion, it would take roughly about half an hour before the undead would evacuate out of the building. As such, it wasn't necessary to be so attentive early on. However, because of his role as lookout and navigator, it was a force of habit for him, and it was hard to break.

The sounds of undead engulfed the space outside the door... not.

It was silent.

That was strange. When he slept, there should have been a number of zombies crammed right next to the door that led outside. But instead he was only met with... nothing. It wasn't as if they had already moved on from their position. It was more like the building had been completely emptied.

Evan had excellent hearing, so he knew he wasn't just being careless.

Then he noticed something. The barricade had been removed from the door. Alarms rang inside his head. Immediately he called out to Io, who may have removed the furniture that had blocked the door.

Again, he was greeted by that eerie silence.

Blood drained from his face. He took off immediately, inspecting every room the floor had. Though he saw some notable things such as skeletons and usable sundries, there was no sign of the girl anywhere. Even the footprints they had left on the floor through the dust didn't help. Just in case, he also checked the rooftop. The door was open, but the undead that were there the previous night were no longer anywhere to be seen.

He rushed downstairs back to the living room, thinking that he might have just missed her. But surely enough, Io and her broken sentences weren't there to greet him.

As panic set in, the door was broken down with a loud crash. Violet and Frank, clad entirely in their gear, barged in.

"Evan! Bastard, you're safe!"

The first thing Violet did was throw herself at his chest. For a moment he felt relief upon seeing his two teammates safe and sound. It was different from just seeing signals from afar. He calmed his nerves while Violet embraced him until Frank interrupted them with a cough.

"Right! Evan, get Io and let's skedaddle."

She pulled away from him and brandished her sledgehammer, but she barely got a step in before Evan grabbed her shoulder to stop her.

"She's not here."

"Huh?"

"I can't find her anywhere here."

Evan told them a compressed version of what had happened from the time he woke up from getting knocked out to the time when they were regrouped. Violet and Frank, finding no abnormalities with how Io had acted, were at a loss about the matter.

The longer they took their time guessing what to do, the more restless Evan became. He couldn't imagine Io, despite only getting to really know her for a night, would leave without any prior notice. And if he was being completely honest, he had become quite partial for the girl's character. For sure, Violet wouldn't allow Io to slip away either.

"Will help. Your wife, we'll find."

He recalled Io's face as she declared her intentions. Though he wasn't as good a judge of character as Violet, he was sure that Io was sincere about it.

"Hmm... it is weird though," Violet suddenly murmured aloud. "Evan, you should see this."

She guided him to the hall where the smashed remains of several pieces of furniture were found scattered about, as well as the corpses of numerous undead. For a bit, Evan thought that the scene of carnage was made by Violet as they came in. However, he realized in shock that the time didn't add up.

It hadn't been half an hour since they entered the room after setting off the explosion. Plus, the furniture used to be located on the inside of the suite, not the outside. Then, there was the way the zombies were dispatched; while the intact heads and limbs were crushed, probably by Violet, all of them were dismembered in a way that reminded Evan of butchered meat.

"When we came in, all the undead inside the building were already like this."

"How about the zombies outside the building?"

"Normal. No irregular pattern. She definitely didn't go out."

There were no nearby buildings either for Io to jump to.

Then, Evan remembered. It was easy to forget Io's words because of how she spoke, but that line came back to him as if he was meant to recall it.

"No chance. Too many. Underground, maybe. Possible. Can go."

"We can check."

And that was what they did. And unfortunately for Evan, the trail of carnage indeed extended from the top floor all the way to the basement where they found a manhole. It was even opened slightly, as if inviting them to follow.

There was even an arrow, drawn with fresh blood, pointing towards it.

Everybody was disheartened. Nobody wanted to go back underground. But, they had to... right?

Violet poked her head out from the hole and beckoned at them. She volunteered to check the state underground. Since the undead couldn't climb up ladders, she was mostly safe from where she was at. And unfortunately for Evan, the look on her face screamed "good news".

"She did come here. There's a trail of mutilated undead extending towards where we're supposed to go. Come on."

It looked like they were going underground again.