Hugo sat on the edge of his couch, running through the events of the past hours in his mind. The makeshift barricades he had built were out in the corridor. The weight of exhaustion still pressed on him, but for the first time in days—maybe weeks—he felt a sliver of trol over his situation. Both stairwells were blocked. The zombies wouldn’t be able to pour in from every dire like before. He had carved out a piece of safety for himself.

  And now, it was time to push forward. He ched his fists, steeling himself for what came . He had been avoiding it, but there was no point in deying anymore—he o take care of the two zombies in the apartme door. He khere was food in there, supplies he desperately needed. If he could clear it, that would be another safe space he could use.This time, he was fighting on his own terms. He grabbed his knife and the pan, gripping them tightly. The pn was simple—trap them, take them out o a time, ahings quiet. No unnecessary risks. No reckless moves. Just methodical, trolled a. Stepping into the hallway, he approached the door to the apartment. It was closed, just as he had left it. His fiightened around the handle. He forced himself to breathe slowly, in and out, steadying his hen, with deliberate slowness, he pushed the door open. The stench of decay hit him immediately. The apartment was dim, dust swirling in the weak light from the windows. His eyes flickered across the space. He could hear them before he saw them—low, slow movements, the shuffle of feet dragging across the floor. One was he kit, its back turo him. The other was deeper inside, partially obscured by a wall. Good. He could work with this. He moved in carefully, positioning himself between the first zombie and the door. He tightened his grip on the pan and exhaled sharply. ation. He lunged forward, swinging the pan with all his strength. The metal ected with the back of the zombie’s skull with a siing crack. It stumbled forward, arms filing, but he didn’t give it a ce to recover. He followed up with another swing, sending it colpsing onto the floor. It twitched, but he was already on top of it, driving his knife down into its skull.One down. The sed zombie let out a sharp, inhuman scream and turned, barreling toward him. Hugo barely had time to react before it smmed into him, knog him back. He gritted his teeth, grappling with its weight as it cwed at him. Its fingers raked against his arm, tearing through his sleeve and scraping across his skin. Pain fred as he shoved it off, rolling away before it could pin him. Ign the sting in his arm, he got back to his feet just as the zombie lunged again. He sidestepped, bringing the pan up in a brutal arc. The impact sent the creature stumbling, giving him just enough time to drive the ko its temple. The zombie jerked ohen crumpled to the ground.Silence filled the apartment, except for his ragged breathing.He had do. Hugo took a step back, panting. His arms trembled, not just from exertion, but from the lingering adrenaline flooding his system. He had won. He had actually do.Then, he felt it. The sting on his arm. The unmistakable warmth of blood seeping into his sleeve. His breath hitched as his mind caught up to what had just happened.Scratched. It look like he couldn't get out of it even after retrying. It was the sed time, at the same pce. What where the ces? His stomach twisted. He had seen enough movies to know what this meant. His pulse pounded in his ears as panic took hold. Was he ied? Was this it? Was he going to turn? No. No, he couldn’t let himself spiral. He o act—fast.He tore off his sleeve, iing the wound. It wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t nothiher. His hands shook as he rushed to the bathroom, frantically searg for anything he could use. Water. Soap. Alcohol. Anything to it. He turned on the faucet, but nothing came out. Of course—the water was long gone. Cursing, he grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the et, hesitating only a sed before p it over the wound. A sharp, searing pain tore through his arm, but he ched his teeth and powered through it. He had to make sure it was ., he ripped a strip from his already torn sleeve and ed it tightly around the wound. It wasn’t much, but it was something. His mind still raced. He needed antibiotics. Something to fight iioore through the medie et, searg through old pill bottles, hoping for anything useful. He mao find some antibiotics. There was no i anymore, so he couldn't check exactly what they were for, but the name ended in "-yne," and that was close enough for him. He had no choice but to take the gamble. There was still more to do, but for now, he had to focus. He had won this fight. Now, he o make sure he survived long enough for it to matter. He went back to the kit, his adrenaliill high but his focus sharper. He methodically searched through the ets, grabbing the same food he had found st time—s of soup and beans, a jar of peanut butter, stale crackers, and a couple of instant noodle packets. He stuffed them into his backpack, ign the growi. Food meant survival, and he wasn’t about to waste a sed trip. As he opehe et uhe sink, his eyes settled on a red toolbox, slightly rusted but intact. His heart leapt as he pulled it out and flipped it open. Inside, a roll of duct tape y led among a few scattered tools. Relief flooded him. "If only I had this before," he muttered to himself, gripping the roll tightly. He could have ed his arms in magazines and secured them with duct tape, given himself some prote before the fight. The thought made him grimace—he had been too careless. But now, at least, he had a ce to do better. Hugo took o look around the looted apartment before tightening the straps on his backpack. He had everything he could carry, and staying any longer was a risk. The fight had made too muoise. Stepping into the hallway, he moved quickly. The air was thick with tension. Then he heard it—the unmistakable sound of movement. Low, guttural shuffles.The zombies iairwells had stirred. His heart pounded. He stole a goward the barricaded stairwell at the end of the hall. The pile of furniture held firm, but the shadows shifting behind it told him all he o know—they were pressing against it, trying to find a way through. Not waiting to see if the barricade would st, he turned sharply toward his oartment. His pulse quied with every step. His fingers fumbled with the doorknob as he risked o look over his shoulder. A dull thump rang out from the barricade, followed by ahey were getting mgressive. Finally, the door swung open, and he slipped inside, closing it quickly but carefully. His hands trembled as he locked it. He pushed the dresser in front of the door for extra prote and pressed his back against it, listening. His ed breathing was the only sound in the apartment. For now, the barricades were holding. Hugo made his way into the bathroom, uning the crude bandage from his wound. The cut was still raw, the edges slightly swollen, but no worse than before. He pulled out fresh bandages from the first aid kit, carefully disiing the wound again before ing it up tightly. As he secured the bandage, a soft rustling sound drew his attentiouro see Salem perched on the sink, watg him with those intense yellow eyes. The cat batted at the roll of gauze beside him, then sat down, tail curling around its paws.Hugo sighed, a tired smile. "Not much help, are you?" Salem blinked slowly, then hopped down onto the floor, rubbing against Hugo’s leg before settling beside him. The warmth of the small body was oddly f. Hugo let out a slow breath, leaning against the ter. He reached into his bag, pulling out the bottle of antibiotics. With a deep breath, he popped the cap and shook two pills into his palm. Better safe than sorry. He dry-swallowed them, grimag as they went down. His gaze lingered otle. The loop seemed to reset after he slept. But what if the iion took hold in a couple of days? What if he couldn’t do anything about it? If he kept dying from iion over and over, he wouldn’t be able to reset past it.A shiver ran down his spihat would be a real nightmare. His fiightened around the bottle. What should he do now?He sat ba the couch, rubbing his temples. He needed more information about how the loop worked, but testing it meant taking risks he wasn’t ready for. His supplies would st a little longer, but eventually, he’d have to leave the building.Salem suddenly let out a small, impatient meoawed at Hugo’s leg, staring up at him expetly. Hugo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re hungry too." He stood up and made his way to the kit, grabbing one of the instant ramen packets he had looted earlier. He filled a pot with bottled water a on his gas stove, lighting the burner with a small flick of his lighter. As the water heated, he rummaged through his spice colle—one of the few forts from his past life he still had. He sprinkled in some red pepper fkes and garlic powder before dropping in the noodles. As the st filled the apartment, Salem perched himself on the ter, eyes locked o. "I don’t think yonna like this, buddy," Hugo muttered as he stirred. "Too spicy for you." He finished cooking and poured the noodles into a bowl, taking a cautious bite. The warmth spread through him, a small but necessary fort in the middle of all the chaos. Salem, unimpressed, let out another meow. Hugo chuckled. "Fine. I’ll get you something, too. But I’m not sharing my ramen."After finishing his ramen, Hugo leaned back, staring at the ceiling. His arm still stung, but nothing more. No fever, no dizziness, no growing hunger for human flesh. Two hours had passed since he’d been scratched.Wasn’t that enough time for some kind of rea?He pressed his palm against the bandage, feeling the dull ache beh. It was just a wound. It hurt, sure, but it wasn’t spreading, wasn’t turning into something worse. Maybe he had gotten lucky. Maybe the scratch hadn’t been deep enough. Or maybe—just maybe—the iion didn’t work the way movies had always made it seem.He exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers on the empty ramen bowl. He wasn’t going to get an aonight. He could sit here, stressing over it, or he could sleep and see what the m brought. He really didn’t want to have to die and redo it all again. With a sigh, he picked up Salem and carried him to the bed. The cat settled against his side, warm and tent. Hugo closed his eyes, f himself to rex. "Guess we’ll see what happens in the m," he muttered. And for now, that was enough.