𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 𐂃

Chapter 54

"No. Where are you going?" Hailey shook her head frantically wanting to cry again now that the implications of her actions slowly began to trickle through. "We need to find mom and daddy and make sure they're okay first."

"Hailey-"

"We need to stay together!" Something burned inside Hailey before she made sure she garnered her sister's attention. "it's family first! Then we help the others." Debating her sister's words, Cristine eventually nodded and the two burst off together in the direction of the chaos. Cristine barked at the people without weapons to go inside. It was an infiltration of infected. Not just any infected. All the walking corpses were their own. What the fuck happened?! People were getting eaten and put down by their own left and right in the midst of the violent anarchy. Most of the turned donned militia gear and Cristine paled when she saw the dead faces of the new recruits she helped train. Cristine slipped her blade from her hip and sunk it through the skull of an infected coming for them without hesitation. The body stiffened and Cristine glared into the lifeless eyes and watched the body drop to the ground with a loud thud. Her eyes flared with ire.

"Cristine! Hailey!" The sisters turned in the direction of the familiar voice and sprinted in the direction of Alicia, Madison and Dolores.

"Alicia! Madison! Dolores! You okay?" Cristine was relieved to see alive faces between the chaos. Hailey tearfully went to embrace her mother tightly. Dolores was a bloody mess, frazzled but uninjured.

"We are. Have you seen Nick?" Madison asked, distraught by everything and looking for her son. This was an attack on them, but how were so many of their own hit like this?

Shaking her head, Cristine looked around. "No we haven't. What's happening?"

"Mom, where's daddy?" Hailey asked, but Dolores shook her head, indicating she had no clue either. The five women ducked in reflex when more gunshots sounded, fearful of stray bullets hitting them.

"We stick together. Let's find the others. Back's against each other and don't break the circle," Madison ordered, gun ready in her hands and fired a bullet in the center of one's skull. They tacitly formed a circle line between themselves. Cristine glowered when the one she hit went down like a ragdoll, milky eyes rolled in the back of it's skull. She moved without thinking about menial things, breaths coming out in pants from the adrenaline and exertion, body wet with perspiration. She glanced at Hailey and Dolores, sure they never left her sight. It was dark, people were running around without purpose or direction, and they were putting their own down as if they were rabid animals.

The night was bloody, chaotic and long.

-

Cristine's blade felt unbelievably heavy. Clenching the hilt in her palm until it hurt, the splintering pain on her bones cleared her mind. She exhaled and slid the silver of the blade into the pliable spot near the nape and pushed it in deep. Blinking, she stared at the spilled blood, the red spot blotted out over the makeshift pillow and announced, "I got another one!" Sniffing, she wiped her nose in the crook of her shoulder and raised her arm, signaling their cleaners to come and collect the corpse. Cristine stepped back and rolled her shoulders and neck back and forth before her eyes moved to survey the dozens of improvised beds stationed outside the overcrowded infirmary that housed their poisoned people. Most victims were part of the militia, hooked to IV's and pumped with antibiotics to relieve the pain. That wasn't even taking into account the wafting fermentation of decaying corpses of the ones that didn't make it. It was a medic's worst reality.

"Medic!" Cristine almost jumped, but her body burst into action, sprinting to the source of the sound as her boots heavily pounded on the dirt. Within her vision, she sucked in a cuss and demanded space from the people surrounding the convulsing young woman who went through a sequence of bodily convulsions. "Give her some space and don't touch her. She needs to go through it." Cristine looked at who she presumed to be the woman's parents, who were frightened and powerless to help their child. "Emma will be fine," Cristine assured them in a certain tune before she pressed her hand between her back and shoulder to position her on the side to clear her airway and loosened her collar and space for her to breathe. Cristine then cushioned her head and began to count the length of the seizure, which passed the one minute mark.