It had been hours since the last time they ran for their lives. Now it's daytime.

  Now, they were resting in an old, abandoned house in Brooklyn. They were safe. ...at least for the moment. The quiet felt strange. John sat against the wall, his mind busy, thinking about what to do next. Mark laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. He was thinking about his parents. How he treated them before everything changed.

  After a long silence, John finally spoke up. “Do you think... all the other military safe zones are... overrun too?” His voice was soft, worried about Amy.

  Mark didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know there was a safe zone in Brooklyn until now.”

  John sighed, the weight of worry on his shoulders. “I just hope Amy’s okay.”

  Mark turned his head toward John, trying to comfort him. “She will be. The military’s strong. They won’t just fall. ...Right?”

  John nodded, but doubt still clouded his eyes. “We’re not sure... but if we want to find out, we have to survive first.”

  Mark took off his watch. It was a gift from his father. He stared at it, holding onto it like a lifeline. “My dad... he was a good man. Family came first for him. My mom, though... she had a sharp tongue. Always talking.”

  John chuckled softly, understanding. “Sounds like you had a good family.”

  Mark smiled a little, the memory bittersweet. “Yeah. My mom would make this terrible meatloaf. My dad would pretend to eat it, then say he had to go to the bathroom. I always knew he was just going to spit it out.”

  John laughed, shaking his head. “Sounds like my dad. They were like cats and dogs. My dad would lie on the couch all day, and my mom would yell at him. I’d just watch and laugh as he cleaned the whole house after she told him to.”

  Mark’s chuckle faded, and the smile slipped off his face. “Yeah... parents are the best. I miss them.”

  John's expression softened. He could feel the weight of Mark’s pain. “It’s okay... We’ll make it through this. Your parents would be proud of you.”

  Mark’s eyes filled with tears, and his voice cracked. “I know... but I wasn’t always a good son. I didn’t always appreciate them when I should have.”

  The words seemed to break something inside him. “I just hope they knew how much I loved them... I never showed it enough. I regret it all...” The regret hit him hard now. With his parents gone, there was no one left to talk to, no one left to guide him, no one to help him make sense of it all.

  John stayed quiet, listening closely, letting Mark say what he needed to say.

  Mark wiped his eyes. “When I cried, my mom would always ask me what was wrong. My dad... he’d know what to say. He’d take me anywhere I wanted to go, just to make me feel better.”

  The room was still for a moment, as Mark’s words hung in the air. John sat beside him, offering his presence. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could give.

  Mark’s voice was quieter now. “I wish I could’ve told them how much they meant to me. I wish I had been a better son. But it’s too late.”

  John gently put a hand on Mark’s shoulder, a silent promise of support. He didn’t need to say much more. Sometimes, just being there was enough.

  “...”

  A moment of silence stretched between them before Mark finally spoke. “You better find your daughter, man...”

  His voice was steady, sure. “I’ll follow you. Forever.”

  John looked at him, surprised, but then his lips curled into a small smile. “Thanks, Mark... That means a lot.”

  Then... footsteps. Fast. Desperate. Coming from outside.

  John and Mark exchanged glances. They both grabbed their weapons, moving toward the window.

  A woman, wearing a big backpack, was running down the street, two men right on her heels.

  “We gotta help her,” John said, already reaching for the door.

  Mark nodded. “Yeah. Agreed.”

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  “Keep running, you bastard! I’ll take everything from you!” one of the men shouted as he chased her.

  “We had a deal!” the woman shot back.

  “Stop, or I’ll shoot!” the man threatened, but she knew better. A gunshot would bring the Undead.

  Then... a third man stepped into her path. A suit. A gun. Aimed right between her eyes.

  She skidded to a stop, breathless.

  “I swear, we’ve been good to you, Ash…” His voice was low, calm, but dripping with quiet aggression. “Hand over our supplies.”

  “No,” she snapped. “You said you were a man of your word. You said I’d get half.”

  His expression darkened. “Right. But you compromised the whole operation.”

  “Just shoot her already!” one of the pursuers growled.

  The man in the tux scoffed. “Shut up.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  Two quick shots. The pursuers dropped, dead before they hit the ground.

  John and Mark had been sneaking up behind the pursuers, weapons raised... but now they just stood there, frozen.

  “Uh…” Mark muttered.

  The man in the tux turned his gun on them. Ash glanced their way, wary.

  John swallowed hard. “P-put the gun down… We were just trying to help her.” His voice wavered, but his eyes stayed locked on the man’s.

  “She your business?” The tuxedo man’s gaze was sharp, searching.

  John hesitated. Just a second. “...Yes.”

  The man smirked. “Bullshit.” He cocked the gun, finger tightening on the trigger, aiming at John.

  And then...

  “REEEEEEEEEAAAAAGHHHHHHH!!”

  That scream.

  Ash’s eyes widened. “No, no, no!” She bolted.

  “Hey!” The tuxedo man spun, chasing after her.

  John barely had time to react before another scream split the air... closer this time.

  “RAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!!”

  It came from the rooftops.

  Mark stiffened. His breath hitched. His mind flashed back... The Echo Team, the helicopter, the first day in Brooklyn. The blood. The chaos. The horror.

  John's chest tightened. His body refused to move.

  Mark grabbed his shirt. “John! We gotta go!”

  More footsteps. Fast. Aggressive. Coming straight for them.

  John yanked at him harder. “JOHN!”

  But Mark was frozen, trapped in the past.

  And the nightmare was closing in.

  "JOHN!!"

  “John!”

  John jolted awake, his eyes heavy with sleep. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on his room.

  “Huh...?” he mumbled, his voice deep and groggy. “What...? What is it, Juliana...?”

  A burst of laughter of a little girl cut through his confusion.

  “Hahaha! You thought I was mom!” Amy giggled, poking him in the chest.

  John blinked, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Come on, sleepyhead! It’s morning already! You’re gonna be late for work, and you won’t be able to drive me to school!” Amy’s voice was sweet but firm, like she was trying to sound strict, but John could only find it adorable.

  John chuckled softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah... I’m getting up.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he swung his legs off the bed. It was just another day.

  "JOHN, COME ON, MAN!"

  "WAKE UP! JOHN!!"

  "REAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

  "So, how was school?" John asked, still half-dazed, as he moved around preparing breakfast.

  "Good! My teacher gave me a star for scoring the spelling bee a perfect!" Amy replied, her voice sweet and proud.

  "JOHN!!!"

  "Oh, you got a perfect score?!" John said with pride, smiling at Amy.

  "Yep! I knew you'd be surprised!" Amy chuckled, clearly delighted.

  "Whoa! My little girl is so smart!" John beamed, running toward Amy and lifting her up into the air, spinning her joyfully.

  "But... Dad...?" Amy’s voice faltered, a hint of something heavier in it now.

  "Can you promise me one thing?" she asked, her eyes wide as she looked up at him.

  "Yeah, anything for you, honey," John replied, his smile still on his face, unaware of the shift in tone.

  "Can you..." Amy hesitated, her words trailing off.

  "Can you.."

  "WAKE UP!" Mark's voice cut through, suddenly harsh as he shook John’s shoulders, pulling him from his dream-like state.

  They were in the rowhouse. Mark had pulled John inside when he was still in his dream-like state, slamming the door shut and quickly barricading it. Outside, the sounds of the Undead grew louder, more frantic, as if they were closing in on the house.

  “Huh…?” John mumbled, disoriented, blinking rapidly to clear his head.

  Mark, his face tense, replied urgently, “We don’t have much time. We need to get out. We’re trapped!”

  John snapped to attention, his mind clearing as adrenaline kicked in. He stood up quickly. “Let’s go to the second level!” His voice was sharp, no longer groggy. The sound of glass shattering echoed through the house, the Undead were breaking in.

  Without wasting another moment, they both ran for the stairs, barely making it up as the door to the rowhouse shook violently from the force of the horde outside. At the top of the stairs, John grabbed a cabinet and shoved it in front of the door, trying to buy them some time.

  “We need to figure this out, NOW!” Mark shouted, pacing as panic set in.

  John's mind raced. He ran to the window, peering through the gap in the blinds. His stomach dropped when he saw what awaited them outside.

  The street was swarming with hundreds of Undead, packed together like a flood of rotting flesh, blocking the way out and focusing on the door of their rowhouse. He stepped back from the window, horror written across his face.

  “Shit…” His voice faltered, but he quickly recovered and turned toward Mark. “We’re surrounded…”

  Then, through the chaos, something caught his eye. He squinted... ...there, moving behind the horde, was Ash. The same woman they had seen earlier, sneaking past the masses of Undead, moving with purpose.

  “Hey! We need help!” John shouted, his voice desperate. He pressed his hands against the window, trying to make himself heard. “Please! We’re desperate!”

  Ash briefly glanced up at him. For a moment, she hesitated, eyes flickering between John and the horde, but then she continued her slow walk, slipping further into the sea of the Undead.

  “Please!” John’s voice cracked as he pleaded with her, his hands trembling against the glass. “I beg you!”

  Ash stopped. For a moment, John thought she might relent, that she might come to their aid. But then she let out an exasperated sigh, her gaze narrowing at him. She rolled her eyes and, without a word, continued to walk away from the house, the last thing he saw was Ash killing an Undead that spotted her, and after that... she disappeared.

  The Undead reached the second level.

  Mark’s voice cracked with panic. “John...? We can’t get out of this…”