CHAPTER 36: BARNEY’S BETRAYAL

Rosalia — POV

A sharp breath of relief escaped my chest the instant my eyes found the two lying sprawled on the cold floor, unconscious and tangled beside each other like so much refuse.

Their heavy Bodies slack, seemed almost peaceful now, stripped of the cruelty they had so freely thrown at others.

Honestly, they deserved every second of it.

I swear, there wasn’t an ounce of sympathy left in me for people like them.

People who lived off torment, who could smile while taking advantage of the helpless.

Calling them human felt like an insult to the word itself.

They’d crossed too many lines for pity, and in the world where survival was based on brutality, monsters like them didn’t need redemption.

They needed silence.

Oblivion.

The kind that came with unconsciousness... or worse.

"Let’s get out quickly before the zombies come back."

My voice was too steady. I was holding myself together because if I let the disgust swirl any further it would become rage.

"Trash, they got what they deserved," Henry scoffed from aside, his disdain sharp enough to slice through the stale and suffocating air of the room.

And finally—finally—we were outside of the suffocating space.

The hall seemed wider than it had, a musty stink of disinfectant mixed with rot wafting by. The kids followed behind, their little feet faltering, but compliant. They still held tight to each other’s hands in an unbroken chain, small fingers interlaced as if to let go would be to allow the world to swallow them whole. Their fear was clear, shaking beneath their skin, and yet faint, tenuous smiles hung on their lips.

Poor kids.

Being stuck in a room for days on end, with the groaning undead surrounding them outside, while their parents’ killers lurked in the same space as them. The mental toll was unbearable. I could only dare hope that the kids wouldn’t take profound scars from this and that their minds wouldn’t crack under the strain of all they endured.

Our formation must have looked just ridiculous from afar: awkward, imbalanced.

A long, uneven line, moving forward; and we linked together in a way that from a distance resembled elementary school children crossing the street, shuffling ahead with slow, cautious steps.

But our luck held.

Most of the zombies instinctively chased after Frederick when he diverted them. It left the hospital eerily quiet, as if the undead took the noise and mayhem with them.

Coming out, we saw only a few stragglers-cum-zombies, detached, distracted, and aimlessly adrift like dust in the wind.

They didn’t even glance our way.

It was so easy.

Too easy.

We managed to get away without fighting, without a scratch, without even having to run.

Henry, predictably, had begun rambling, unable to contain his incredulity.

"It’s like a walk in the park. Seriously, is this the same apocalypse that was kicking our asses for days? I mean, damn, if I had this kind of power, I’d walk around without fear, just—"

"Shut up."

Cassel didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. One sentence was all it took to cleave Henry’s chatter in half.

"Let’s get to the car. We need to meet up with the others before the rain starts."

I tilted my head up toward the sky—the eternal red sky with no sun, glowing faintly like a wound that never healed. Today, the clouds were thicker than usual, pressing down over us like a suffocating blanket.

They swirled in a grotesque mixture of dark red and dirty brown, heavy with the promise of rain.

Rain, in this world, was never a blessing.

Not anymore.

At the start of the doomsday apocalypse, it wasn’t toxic enough to turn them into zombies in an instant, but it carried enough poison to weaken, sicken, or corrode the body slowly. For adults with strong abilities, it was survivable.

But for the four children walking with us... and the unconscious patient we carried... it was a death sentence.

We could not afford a single drop.

We made our way back the way we had come, dodging tipped-over chairs, overturned carts, and smudges of blood that’d browned on the tile floor.

The entrance wasn’t that far. The jeep, our only vehicle, should’ve been right outside. Barney was supposed to be waiting, too.

But as we approached the entrance...

There was nothing.

No familiar structure of metal.

No sign of the jeep.

No large shape of Barney is leaning impatiently against the car.

He was gone.

And so was the vehicle.

"Damn it," Henry snapped, his voice tightening like a rope around my throat.

"Where is that idiot? How could he leave his post like this? Does he want to die?"

Cheerful and easygoing, Henry took his responsibilities seriously, almost obsessively so.

He demanded competence from everyone around him. It was what made him such a terrifying and effective vice president under Cassel.

Few dared disappoint him.

I watched Henry’s anger build, then let my gaze drift to the empty road.

Barney...

Had he finally shown his true nature?

If he had schemed something-betrayed Cassel again-then the removal now would be far easier than dealing with him later.

A traitor could destroy an entire team faster than any zombie.

"Boss! Henry! You finally came!"

Frederick burst out of a small convenience store, panting heavily.

"Boss, I couldn’t find the car anywhere. Barney’s gone. No signs of a fight or a break-in. I... I think he drove off on his own."

A heavy silence settled upon us.

Even a fool would know that this was not some stupid mistake.

Leaving us stuck in a zombie-infested zone, miles from shelter, with children and an unconscious man to defend... this was not an accident.

It was betrayal.

A premeditated attempt at putting us into lethal danger.

"It’s fine. I can—"

Cassel didn’t finish.

Because suddenly the earth was shaking—low, rumbling, steady. Engines boomed down the narrow alley, louder by the second.

A sound of thunder approaches.

Cassel’s voice cut off mid-sentence. His eyes sharpened.

Every head snapped toward the noise.

Our jeep rolled towards us—slow, smooth, familiar.

But behind it...

Two huge armored vehicles followed, swallowing up what little space the alley had left.

Their dark frames shone bright with malice, their engines purring like hungry beasts.

A cold chill rippled through the air.

Frederick brightened instantly, hope exploding across his features. "See! It must be Barney! I told you he wouldn’t—"

"There’s something wrong." Henry’s voice was low, dangerous—a blade sheathed in ice.

Cassel’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening like the sky above us.

"Put the patient down. Move the kids back. Alex—guard them."

Alex didn’t waste any time. He gathered the kids to him quickly, pushing them all behind a broken wall half-swallowed by vines.

Their eyes were wide, their breathing shallow, their tiny hands clutching each other harder than before.

"Don’t move," Cassel told them, his voice unyielding. "No matter what happens."

Then he stepped forward.

The engines cut off.

A silence pressed upon the street, a weight drawing out the air from my lungs.

Cassel raised a hand.

Henry and Frederick moved in, close and ready, their muscles taut as drawn wires.

The door of the jeep opened with a slow, cruel click.

Barney stepped out.

He smiled.

Not relieved.

Not guilty.

Not apologetic.

But with a sly, venomous grin that twisted his features into something ugly, something revealing.

The armored vehicles had flanked the jeep, like wolves circling their prey. Their doors swung open in violent synchrony, and out came men—ten at least, maybe more. Shadows masquerading as humans, armed with rusted blades, iron rods, pipes, and a few tight-gripped guns. Heavy, thunderous steps slammed against the ground.

A gang.

Organized.

Prepared. And here for us.

Cassel didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

He just stared at Barney with a stillness so cold, it froze the space around him. The air vibrated with tension: thick, suffocating, inevitable.

Barney stretched his arms out in a mockingly casual gesture, his grin widening.

"Yooo~ Boss, you finally came out."

That challenge just hung in the air, crawled under my skin, tightening around my chest like a noose. The moment before violence—the moment when the world held its breath—stretched into something long, suffocating, endless.

And then the world seemed to fall silent, waiting for the first spark that would ignite the storm.