A guard banged on the bars just before nightfall. "You're moving up. Level 1. Let's go."
When the door finally opened, they were moved into a new room — one with a bed, a toilet, and even curtains for privacy.
A guard stood at the door for a moment longer. "Door opens at eight p.m. for dinner in the hallway. Be back inside by nine. Anyone late gets locked out. Got it?"
They barely had time to inspect the room before medical came in with gloves and face shields. They checked temperatures and their pulses.
Malcolm's wound looked better.
Iyisha asked quietly for disinfectant and fresh wraps.
Surprisingly, they handed it to her. She cleaned and wrapped his leg, careful and silent.
That night, neither of them spoke about the girl. About the screams. But the silence pressed in like a weight. Iyisha lay awake, curled on the cot, staring at the ceiling. At some point, she heard something — a distant thump or a scream, she wasn't sure.
But her heart seized. She sat up, eyes wide, breath tight in her chest.
Malcolm stirred. "It's nothing," he muttered. "You still shaken?"
She didn't answer right away. Just nodded slowly in the dark. He didn't offer comfort but the fact that he even asked, made her feel better.
She eventually drifted off, but her sleep was broken, haunted by blood and gurgling gasps.
The next morning, they were given plain shirts and pants. Their old clothes had been burned.
Later that morning, they were brought out into the hallway for breakfast. It looked like a school cafeteria with rows of benches and plain metal tables. There was no chatter but just the clink of utensils and murmurs.
Iyisha and Malcolm received metal trays with porridge, two crackers, and a slice of preserved fruit. They found a spot to sit.
"Where you from?" a man at the next table asked.
Iyisha swallowed her spoonful. "We're just here to rest. We're travelers."
"We are too," the man said, smiling. "But this place looks decent enough to stay."
She nodded, then asked, "Where'd you come from?" — more to fill the silence than anything else.
"East," he replied.
"Really?" Iyisha perked up. That was the direction they were heading.
"Yeah," he said, voice lowering. "If you're headed that way, be careful. Hordes everywhere."
"Really?" she asked again, concern tightening her voice. "We're going to—"
"Shut up," Malcolm cut in, sharp.
Iyisha froze, realizing her mistake. She glanced at the man across from them and gave a sheepish, "Sorry."
They all continued eating. Nothing more was said. . She caught a glimpse of guards in hazmat suits dragging a stretcher with the body zipped up tight. No one around seemed surprised.
Most of their time was still spent inside their rooms. They were only allowed out during specific windows for meals, brief outdoor shifts, and temperature checks. The rest of the day, they waited.
The place reminded Iyisha too much of Redridge like the rules, the silence, and the way people avoided looking each other in the eye. It made her skin crawl. Made her feel like she'd never really left.
Iyisha spent one afternoon glancing across the room at Malcolm, who was flipping through a weathered paperback they'd been given to pass the time.
She thought back to breakfast. He hadn't said a word to her since.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
He paused, turned a page. "Don't talk to people," he said simply.
"I just... I'm sorry. I got no excuse."
A few seconds passed.
Then, still looking at the book, he asked, "You feeling better now?"
Iyisha bit her lip. That memory again of the girl's face, calling for help, mouth full of blood.
"Yes," she muttered.
"You know we're gonna see more of that," he said. "A lot more — before we reach Halstead."
She blinked at him.
"You can stop here and stay."
Her heart thudded. "What? No. I need to go to my sister."
Malcolm finally lowered the book to his lap. "You won't survive if you react like that to every death."
Iyisha bristled. "Well, I'm sorry if I cared. I'm a doctor—"
"Yes, you are," he said, expression flat. "But if I killed someone out there to keep us alive, would you stop me?"
She blinked at him, stunned. The words struck deeper than they should've. He was right.
If she wanted to reach New York...
She sighed and curled deeper into the cot. It would've been easier if he just hugged her but Malcolm wasn't that kind of man.
"I can do it," she whispered. "I promise."
Even as the words left her lips, tears welled up in her eyes.
Malcolm sighed. "Then we leave tomorrow. Remember what I told you — you become a baggage, I will leave you."
She bit her lip. "Yes. I remember."
Their third day came with a knock. They were led to another room but this time it felt different. The officer who greeted them wore the same uniform but gave a warm smile, one that didn't feel forced.
"You've completed the 72-hour quarantine. You're medically cleared. Congratulations! You've made it through, for now."
They both nodded, a little stiffly, and murmured a quiet "Thank you." The officer acknowledged it with a simple nod before continuing.
"Now, you have two options."
"First, you can officially join West Bridge. You'll get housing, a job, food rations, and perimeter security."
"Or you can leave. But if you go, you can't come back for another six months."
His eyes dropped to Iyisha's arm — the old Redridge burn. A mark of exile.
"If you stay, you'll be given a cleaning job," the officer added, then looked at Malcolm with a hint of greed. "You, on the other hand… maybe guard duty. We're always short outside the walls."
Malcolm raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.
Iyisha hesitated. She looked at Malcolm.
He gave a small nod, almost imperceptible.
She thought of the fence. The rules. The burn on her arm. "You still sure?" Malcolm asked, his voice low.
She turned back to the officer. "We're leaving."
The officer sighed. "You sure? It's not better out there."
They offered another quiet thank you as they were led toward the exit room, a wide hallway with reinforced doors and a checkpoint that marked the end of their stay.
They were handed a sealed bag with their gear, cleaned and disinfected. The officer gave a short nod as he walked them to the exit. "Your bike will be waiting by the gate. Gate closes behind you."
Iyisha breathed a sigh of relief as they got outside the gate. She slung the pack over her shoulder and mounted the bike. Malcolm eased himself into the sidecar, his leg stiff but stronger now.
Iyisha glanced over her shoulder, back at the tall fence and the guard tower.
Heat shimmered off the road ahead, empty and wide. The silence felt heavier than before.
Malcolm tapped her shoulder. "Back to the highway. We need to pick up I-70 if we're heading to Kansas."
Iyisha looked at him. "How far?"
"A long, long way. Good thing they gave us a few canned goods. We can eat on the ride, but it's not enough."
She frowned. "So we'll need to cut into towns?"
He nodded once, his expression hardening. "Yeah. Probably. Those towns will be packed with undead."
A shiver ran down her spine. "We're going farther from the safe zones."
"Exactly," he said. "No turning back now."