Chapter 10 #2
“Panicking for nothing?” Lionel’s voice rose, scraping rough against his throat. “Staying here isn’t going to save us, Mads. We were going to have to leave eventually anyway. What do you want? For us to sit in this room and just wait around to die?”
He saw the way Mads’ jaw tightened, the muscle ticking under pale skin. Even his neck strained with the effort to hold something back. “Then give me a moment to get ready,” Mads said finally, the words sharp, “and I’ll come with you.”
“No,” Lionel ground out. He shook his head hard, hands clenching at his sides. “I’m going to scout out there alone. I’m not risking you coming along.”
“I won’t get hurt,” Mads shot back immediately, eyes flashing. “I’ve been handling myself just fine—long before you ever came into my life!”
Lionel slammed his hand against the doorframe, the echo loud in the frozen apartment. “I can’t afford to lose you right now!” The words ripped out of him before he could stop them, ragged and raw.
Silence crashed down between them, heavy and absolute. Even the snow seemed to fall quieter for a breath. Mads’ eyes widened slightly, his lips parting like he didn’t know how to respond.
Lionel dragged a shaking hand through his hair. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I can’t… I can’t have you getting hurt. I don’t know what I’d do if one of those things got you. So please. Just stay here. Let me do this. I’ll only be gone a few minutes.”
Mads studied him for a long time, his stare so steady it made Lionel’s stomach twist. Finally, he exhaled, shoulders slumping just a fraction. “Fine,” he murmured, his voice tight with something Lionel couldn’t quite name.
Lionel couldn’t bring himself to look at him again.
He just swallowed, throat bobbing painfully, before turning and heading for the door.
Each step felt like it was being ripped out of him, but he tightened his grip on the mallet and pulled the door open.
He checked each way before sliding out of the apartment.
It had been a long time since Lionel heard anything at all—no echoing screams, no heavy bangs or doors slamming, none of the sickening scrapes of claws against walls that had haunted the first hours of this nightmare.
The silence was almost worse. The hallway ahead of him looked unchanged from when this all began: faded carpet, dim lights flickering weakly overhead, the same dark smudges on the wallpaper.
No new bloodstains, no toppled bodies. It was like nothing had moved through here in ages.
But that made him uneasy in a different way. He couldn’t help imagining what might be lurking out of sight, just waiting for him to drop his guard.
Lionel moved from apartment to apartment, one hand tight on the mallet he carried, the other testing each doorknob with careful pressure.
Each time a knob refused to turn, he exhaled in a shaky mix of relief and frustration.
It meant nothing was coming out after him—but it also meant he was finding no new shelter, no backup supplies, no people.
He went on like this until he realized how far he’d gotten from the snow-chilled apartment where Mads was waiting. The thought of something slipping past him, finding its way to Mads while he was gone, made his chest seize. So he crossed to the other side of the hall and worked his way back.
Finally, he gripped a handle that gave way easily under his hand.
It turned with a faint click that was almost deafening in the quiet.
Lionel froze, swallowing hard as his pulse raced.
Anything could be behind this door—a monster curled up and waiting, human bodies already stripped to bone, or maybe…
maybe someone alive. He didn’t even know what he hoped for.
He pushed the door open slowly. Silence met him, heavy and complete.
Lionel stepped inside, his shoulders tense and the mallet lifted high.
Each cautious step was deliberate as he swept through the apartment, eyes darting to corners and shadows.
The kitchen was a wreck—cabinet doors hung open at crooked angles, boxes and cans littered the floor, some of which had burst open and were molding.
Someone had already looted the place, maybe in a panic.
In the bedroom, the closet doors stood wide, empty hangers swinging faintly. No bodies, no creatures, no signs of a struggle.
By the time he reached the living room, Lionel’s arm had grown tired from keeping the mallet raised, and he slowly let it lower to his side. He turned in a full circle, taking in the emptiness. Just another ordinary apartment caught in the middle of something that was anything but ordinary.
Unfortunately, there was nothing about this place that seemed safer than their snow-buried hideout—no extra padding on the walls, no fortifications, no untouched rooms that said the creatures hadn’t found their way in.
So with a heavy breath, he slipped back out the door, easing it shut behind him until the latch clicked quietly into place.
The hallway waited, dim and patient, as if nothing had happened at all.
Gripping his mallet tighter, Lionel moved on, determined to check a few more doors before he let himself head back to Mads.
It wasn’t long before he found another apartment that was left unlocked.
This one, though, was in much better order than the previous one.
Lionel frowned as he took in just how untouched it was.
When he opened the cabinets, food still lined the shelves; the foyer closet was filled with coats and extra bedding, and the living room looked as if it were just waiting for its owners to return.
Lionel pushed open each bedroom, checking around and scowling deeper as he found more of the same.
There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what parts of the building were left untouched versus those that were ransacked versus those that were affected by time and sudden weather changes.
Lionel wondered if this apartment had always been unlocked, or if it had opened just for him.
Just as he was about to leave to tell Mads he had found somewhere that the creatures didn’t seem to know about, he heard a soft sound.
He froze in place, not even blinking as he strained to listen. It wasn’t anything concerning—nothing he would have thought twice about two days ago—but in this apartment that had appeared to be empty, it made a shiver run down his spine.
Lionel turned his head slowly, eyes locking on the closed bathroom door, which he could have sworn was open when he had taken his look around. He rocked back on his heels, debating if he should confront whatever had clicked the door shut, or if he should just run for his life back to Mads.
But he had no idea how many more doors he’d have to try before he found a place like this. So he tightened his grip on his weapon and slowly inched over to the bathroom door.
He let out a long breath as he reached toward the doorknob. It turned without catching on a lock; the sound of the metal grating was loud in the silence. Lionel’s heart was so loud in his chest, he wondered if whatever was on the other side could hear it.
He held his breath as he shoved the door in, mallet raised over his head and ready to be slammed down on the creature inside.
But his hand froze as he came face-to-face with a young woman.
Her eyes were wide, her breath quick and panicked as she stared up at him. Her entire body was trembling as she tucked herself against the bathtub. She raised her hands when he paused and sobbed, “Please, please don’t kill me!”
Lionel’s arm dropped immediately as he took a step forward.
“Are you okay?” he asked quickly. The woman’s clothes looked ragged, hanging off her body like they didn’t fit her correctly.
They looked like men’s clothes—ones she probably grabbed at random from a closet—and were covered in blood and torn in several places.
He couldn’t see any cuts on her skin, though.
“Please,” she whimpered, flinching away from him. “Don’t kill me.”
He squatted, bringing them closer to eye level as he murmured, “I won’t.” The woman didn’t look entirely convinced as her eyes scanned over his face. “I didn’t know a person was in here,” he explained. “I was looking for a place to hide out.”
“Oh,” she said.
She didn’t make any other moves, just watched Lionel with her wide eyes.
They were so dark, almost black, like her pupils were big enough that there was no room for an iris.
Her dark hair hung down in front of her face all the way to her hips.
Lionel tilted his head to one side in confusion as it seemed to shift between black and brown and almost-red—a strange combination that seemed to switch every time she moved just an inch.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reiterated, reaching out a hand. “Here, let me help you up.”
The woman’s hand was freezing cold. Lionel almost flinched away from giving her a helping hand when their skin touched, but he took her gently and pulled her up to her feet.
She was barely more than a sack of bones; he could feel the pointed edges of her body as she stumbled against him.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, helping to steady her.
She didn’t say anything as he walked her out into the apartment and sat her on the couch.
He sighed as he straightened, looking around as he debated whether he should go find Mads and bring him here or if he should stay with her.
He was worried he’d been gone for too long—he didn’t want Mads to get even angrier at him.
“What’s your name?” he asked the woman. He didn’t think he recognized her, but it was hard to tell through the dirt and blood caked on her skin.
“Please don’t kill me,” she whispered again.