What a day, huh?
My eyes flickered to Lila as I watched her talk about something. Some exhibit, some theory about how the infected used to behave, maybe something about solar panels. To tell the truth, my mind was else where.
I still enjoyed myself nonetheless. More than I wanted to admit.
I don't even remember how we got on the rooftop in the first place, our legs swinging off the edge as we watched the dying sun. I missed days like this, and I knew i probably wasn't gonna get another one in a long time.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Lila asked me with a smile—this soft, sideways curve that made her eyes crease in the corners. I suddenly snapped out of my trance.
"Uh…nothing."
No, there was something. Something I couldn't put my mind on for a while. So much death has happened around the both of us,
Despair should've been eating us alive. Hell, it was eating me alive.
Yet, she was happy.
"I'm just…having a hard time figuring you out, is all."
Her feet slowed, then stilled completely. A brow arched.
"Meaning?"
"I mean— 1 minute you're all happy and affectionate and the next you're ripping out someone's throat…"
The way Lila looked at me made my words die in my throat. Damn it, I hope I didn't kill the mood.
"What I'm trying to say is…how can you be like this when everyone around us is dying? Aubrey, your parents, your friends, my friends…they're—"
Lila offered me a warm smile. I stopped speaking. Her eyes slowly drifted to the sunset as she talked without looking at me.
"The truth is…when I'm with you, I feel like I could do anything. Survive anything. It's like you're my light source to keep going."
My cheeks slowly began to burn a crimson red upon hearing her words. Her eyes drifted back to me.
"Maybe that's your superpower, Adrian."
I let her words settle in the thinning air.
You're my light source.
Me.
The guy who could barely keep his hands from shaking.
I had been using her to survive—clinging to her, leaning on her, hiding behind her strength. She was the reason I was still breathing, and yet…
she said that.
My chest tightened. Before I could even process how the hell I was supposed to respond to something like that—
Lila suddenly rose to her feet.
"Come on, let's go."
Her voice cut through the moment like a clean slice.
The warmth of the sunset felt instantly colder.
I pushed myself up and followed, brushing the dust from my jeans. The rooftop door was cracked open behind us, the museum below humming with artificial quiet. Our footsteps echoed in sync as we headed inside.
"Where exactly are we gonna go now?"
My voice didn't sound like mine—half-curious, half-afraid of the answer.
Lila didn't turn around.
"We're gonna leave Chicago."
I froze mid-step.
My eyes widened, breath catching in my throat.
Leave Chicago?
Leave all of this?
The crazy infected, the bodies, the chaos—they all felt stitched into the city's skin. Leaving almost sounded like… hope.
She finally glanced back at me over her shoulder.
"New Jersey was where you wanted to go, right?"
Her tone was soft.
Too soft.
Like she had been holding this up her sleeve, waiting for the exact moment to pull it out and hand it to me like a gift.
She was planning all this? Damn it, im such an asshole.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came.
Nothing.
Just a stunned breath as I nodded slowly, as if any sudden movement would shatter the moment.
Lila smiled faintly—almost like she was proud of herself.
"It should take us about twelve hours."
The hallway lights flickered again—warm gold, cold shadow, warm gold—painting Lila in shifting colors like the world couldn't decide if she was hope or danger.
She reached for my hand as we stepped outside.
And for a moment—just a moment—
I believed we could actually make it out alive.
The G-Wagon rumbled to life, its tires crunching over shattered glass as we rolled off the museum lot. For the first time all day—maybe all week—I looked at Lila and didn't feel dread clawing at my ribs.
I felt… hope.
She noticed me staring. Of course she did.
Without a word, she slipped her fingers through mine, warm palms grounding me like an anchor.
Hyde Park's ruins blurred past us—burned houses, overturned cars, stray fires licking at the pavement.
We were almost out.
Almost—
The engine sputtered.
A cough. A choke.
Then the G-Wagon lurched to a complete stop.
"Oh, come on," I muttered, slamming my head back into the seat. "Give me a fucking break."
Lila forced a nervous smile and turned the key again.
The engine clicked.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing.
A cold weight dropped into my stomach.
"Lila…?" I started.
But something hit the car.
Hard.
A metallic CRACK shattered the window beside her, spraying glass across her lap.
"What the—?"
Before she even recoiled, a hand shot through the broken window—holding a syringe.
A needle jammed into her neck.
My heart stopped.
"LILA!"
Her eyes went wide.
Then unfocused.
Her body slumped sideways, sagging against the seatbelt as her hand slipped out of mine.
No.
No, no, no—
I scrambled back, breath trapped in my throat, panic slicing through every nerve. I didn't even get the chance to scream.
Because my window exploded next.
Shards peppered my face, burning like hot sand. A shadow leaned in—faceless, gloved with latex, breath sharp and quick.
"Don't—!"
I couldn't even finish.
The needle punched into my neck, cold liquid flooding in like ice. Propofol, maybe.
My limbs dissolved into mush.
My vision blurred into smeared colors—red, black, gold.
Through the distortion, I saw Lila's still form.
I saw hands grabbing her.
Grabbing me.
Lila was unconscious.
I was seconds behind.
As everything went dark, one single thought throbbed through my skull:
I probably wasn't waking up after this.