After the last soap suds drifted into the drain, Noah twisted the handle, shutting off the water. The steady stream gave way to silence, broken only by the occasional drip echoing through the steamy bathroom.
He slid the shower door open and stepped onto the chill of the bath mat, the cool floor cutting through the residual heat of the steam. Droplets of water rolled from his skin, tracing over the definition of his shoulders and back before pooling around his bare feet.
Reaching for a nearby towel, he draped it over his head and began drying his hair before working his way down the rest of his body. The residual heat of the shower seeped deep into his muscles, unraveling his tension and bringing a quiet calm to his restless mind.
Noah wrapped the slightly damp towel around his waist and stepped over to the sink.
He picked up his toothbrush and squeezed a generous amount of toothpaste onto the bristles, Levy's words echoing through his head.
He brushed slowly and thoroughly, making sure to clean every tooth before working the brush across his tongue. The cool, minty toothpaste coated his mouth, leaving behind a refreshing sensation that momentarily distracted him from the day's exhaustion.
When he finished, he leaned over the sink and spat the remaining toothpaste into the drain before rinsing both his mouth and toothbrush.
He set the toothbrush back in its holder and stared at it for a brief moment.
Noah wiped the last traces of moisture from his face with the towel before hanging the towel back up and leaving the bathroom.
As he stepped through the door, the warm air gave way to the cooler temperature of his bedroom.
He walked over to his dresser and pulled open the top drawer, retrieving a pair of black sweatpants and a fitted black undershirt. After dressing, he ran a hand through his still-damp locs, making sure the ponytail was secure before letting out a quiet breath.
The fresh clothes felt noticeably more comfortable than the bloodstained ones he'd worn throughout the day. For a brief moment, it almost felt as if he was getting ready for bed after an ordinary evening.
Noah found himself drawn toward the window once more. Carefully, he peeled back the curtain just enough to look outside.
As his vision adjusted to the abyss below, his breath caught in his throat.
The road outside was swallowed by a light fog that rose just below the second floor. Between the dim, flickering glow of the dying streetlamps and the sheer tide of walkers moving through the haze, he could barely make out what lay ahead.
They wandered between abandoned vehicles, spilled into front yards, and clogged the intersections as far as his eyes could see—which wasn't far because of the obscurity. Every few seconds, another figure would emerge from a side street or stumble out of a neighboring house, joining the ever-growing horde.
"..."
Noah stood there in silence.
99%...
The voice from earlier echoed through his mind.
At first, it sounded insane, but now, staring at the sea of shadowed bodies shambling through his neighborhood, he realized the voice hadn't been exaggerating.
If anything, it might have been understating it.
Even with his enhanced Strength, Agility, and Constitution, getting caught in a horde like that would be suicide. He could cut down dozens of walkers without much effort, but eventually his stamina would give out, his movements would slow, and all it would take was one mistake.
One bite. One second of carelessness.
Even he would die.
Noah stood there in silence for a moment before urging the curtains closed.
*******
Downstairs, Levy sat alone in the living room with his phone resting loosely in his hands.
The living room was illuminated by a single lamp tucked into the corner, its warm glow doing little to push back the darkness gathering outside the boarded windows.
The screen had long since gone dark. There was no signal, no messages, no missed calls—nothing. Even so, he found himself opening his contacts every few minutes, his thumb lingering over familiar names before locking the phone again.
His mind kept drifting back to his family who were still overseas.
Normally, the distance had never bothered him. Modern technology had made it easy to stay connected. A video call every weekend, the occasional text throughout the week, holiday visits whenever schedules lined up—it had always been enough.
Now, that same distance felt incredibly vast.
If the voice that had spoken across the world was telling the truth, then whatever had happened here had happened everywhere. The thought settled heavily in his chest. He wanted to believe his family was safe, that they had found shelter or escaped before things spiraled out of control, but every time he pictured them, another image forced its way into his mind.
The walkers.
The first time he'd driven the scissors into one of their heads.
Would they be able to do what he did?
Even now, he could still remember the resistance. The sensation lingered in his hands no matter how many times he washed them, as though the act itself had left behind something water couldn't remove.
Logically, he knew he'd done the right thing. Those creatures weren't people anymore. They didn't think, didn't speak, and showed no trace of the classmates they'd once been. They were predators wearing mutilated—yet—familiar faces.
Knowing that, however, didn't make taking a life feel any more natural.
He doubted it ever would.
His thoughts drifted upstairs to Noah.
Compared to what Noah had gone through, his own discomfort felt almost insignificant. Noah hadn't just fought strangers. He'd been forced to face his own father, and afterward bury both of his parents before the day had even come to an end.
Levy couldn't imagine carrying that kind of weight.
He rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes, listening to the muffled groans outside the boarded windows. Somewhere beyond them, thousands of walkers wandered through the city, each one a reminder of how quickly everything familiar had disappeared.
He was wondering what kind of people they would become if this were only the first day, when the creak of footsteps on the staircase pulled him from his thoughts.
Levy opened his eyes and looked toward the hallway just as Noah descended the stairs.
"You clean up pretty quick."
Noah's gaze drifted over the fresh clothes Levy was wearing.
"You changed already?"
Levy looked down at himself and tucked away his phone into his pocket.
"Oh, these?" He tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt, with a small grin. "I always keep an extra set of clothes in my bag."
Noah paused midway down the stairs, tilting his head with curiosity.
"Really?"
"Yeah." Levy rubbed the back of his neck, looking faintly sheepish. "I know it sounds kind of strange."
He let out a quiet laugh before continuing.
"A few years ago, I was watching one of those survival shows. One of the guys kept talking about always carrying a spare change of clothes in case something happened. Didn't matter if you got caught in the rain, fell into a river, or just ended up covered in mud. Dry clothes could make a bigger difference than people realized."
He shrugged.
"For some reason, that stuck with me."
Noah leaned against the doorway, listening.
"I started throwing an extra outfit into my backpack whenever I left the house. Never really had a reason for it." Levy smiled to himself. "Honestly, I thought it was just one of those weird habits I'd picked up from watching too much TV."
His eyes dropped to the clean clothes he was wearing.
"But..." The smile turned wry. "I guess this is the first time it's actually paid off."
A faint smile found its way onto Noah's face.
"I'd say it has."
Levy chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"If the world's ever put back together..." He glanced toward the ceiling as if trying to remember the man's name. "I owe that survival guy a thank-you."
The faint smile lingered on Noah's face for another moment before his eyes drifted to the clock hanging above the television.
It was getting late.
As much as there was to think about, tomorrow would demand far more from them than today ever had.
He pushed himself away from the doorway.
"I actually came down to show you to the guest bedroom."
Levy looked over, surprised.
"Oh shoot, you've got a guest room?"
Noah nodded, then raised a brow at him.
"You said that as if I was gonna leave you down here or something."
Levy scratched the back of his head.
"Something like that."
"Nah," Noah said. His gaze shifted to the framed portrait hanging on the wall, his voice falling to a quiet hush. "My mom taught me better."
"What was that?"
Noah glanced back at him.
"Nothin'. Come on, room's upstairs."
Levy rose from the couch, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders before following Noah toward the staircase.
"Thanks."
The second floor was noticeably quieter than the first. Their footsteps were softened by the rugs lined down the hallway as they made their way down, passing Noah's bedroom before stopping in front of a closed door farther along.
Noah turned the knob and stepped aside.
"This is the guest room."
The room was modest but well-kept—mainly by his father.
A neatly made full-sized bed sat against one wall, accompanied by a wooden nightstand and a small dresser. Moonlight slipped through a narrow gap in the curtains, giving the room a soft silver glow.
"My parents always kept it ready in case family visited," Noah said, his voice quieter than before. "It hasn't been used in a while, but everything should still be clean."
Levy stepped inside, taking a slow look around.
"It's more than enough."
Noah gave a small nod.
"If you need anything, my room's just across the hall."
Levy leaned his backpack against the dresser before looking back at him.
"Thanks... for letting me stay."
Noah shrugged.
"You scratched my back, I'll scratch yours."
Noah stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him to give Levy some quiet space
He quietly retreated to his own room and closed the door behind him. He didn't bother to turn on the light. The moon hung high above the neighborhood now, its pale glow slipping through the gap in the curtains and spilling across the hardwood floor.
With a weary sigh, he let himself fall backward onto the bed. The mattress sank beneath his weight, its familiar softness welcoming him in a way it never had before.
He interlinked his fingers behind his head and stared blankly at the ceiling, trapped in the noise of his own thoughts.
Eventually, the sheer weight of the day caught up to him. The noise in his head dimmed to a hazy blur, slipping away thread by thread until exhaustion took over completely, sinking him into a deep, heavy, dreamless sleep.