Chapter 1
On the thirtieth day since the red mist descended, Claire Winters took the last combat squad with her.
Before leaving, she stood at the entrance of the safe house, the churning blood-red mist behind her.
Her long hair was whipped wildly by the wind. Even disheveled, she looked far too beautiful to belong to this apocalyptic world.
She looked at me and said, "Alex, hold the fort here."
I nodded.
She added, "I'll come get you in three days at most."
At that moment, I believed her.
Because she was the captain, the strongest ice-type awakener in the squad, and the person I've been into for seven years.
And me? I was just the guy handling logistics in the safe house.
I couldn't breathe fire, shoot lightning, or smash a zombie's head in with one punch.
But I could fix the wiring, count the supplies, and take apart a broken water purifier and put it back together.
The squad called me the Warehouse King.
Sometimes, Claire would say, "Without Alex, we wouldn't have survived this long."
So when she told me to wait, I waited.
On the first day, the red mist pressed right up against the safe house walls. I patched up three cracks all by myself.
On the second day, the underground pump blew out. I spent six hours soaked in infected water, and something unseen left a gash on my left arm.
On the third day, Claire didn't come back.
I kept telling myself that she must be trapped out there somewhere.
By the seventh day, she still hadn't come back.
There was enough food in the safe house to last me two months, but every night, I'd go to the monitoring room and stare at the abandoned road outside.
I kept thinking that any second now, she'd emerge from the mist with her squad, that familiar frown on her face, ready to give me hell as usual. "Alex, why do you always look like such a mess?"
On the fifteenth day, I finally managed to fix the broken long-range communicator.
In the electric hiss and crackle of static, I heard Claire's voice.
"Captain Winters, are we really not going back to the safe house?" someone asked.
Claire paused, silent for a moment.
I held my breath, clutching the headphones so tight that my knuckles went white.
Then I heard her say, "The red mist is too thick. Going back is too risky."
That person asked again, "But Alex is still in there."
Silence fell again.
This time, her voice was soft, but it cut through me like a knife. "He's got no combat skills. Bringing him along would just be dead weight."
Someone else laughed over the comms. "Yeah, he's more useful guarding the supplies anyway."
I sat in the monitoring room, not moving at all.
The wound on my left arm had started to rot, black veins snaking their way up toward my shoulder.
I glanced down at my arm and let out a bitter laugh.
It turned out that I wasn't the one Claire was coming back for. I was the mutt she left behind to watch over her stash.
That night, I logged into the safe house's main control system and entered the highest admin password.
The squad roster flashed onto the screen.
Claire's name was right at the top, with S-rank access.
She had the run of the entire safe house, could use any med pod she wanted, and always got first dibs on shelter spots.
I was the one who gave her the access.
I stared at her name for a long time, and then hit delete.
The system: [Are you sure you want to remove all access rights belonging to Claire Winters?]
I clicked confirm.
The system: [Fingerprint access removed.]
[Iris access removed.]
[Voiceprint access removed.]
[Captain status removed.]
[Current highest admin of the safe house: Alex Warren.]
At that moment, all the lights in the safe house flickered.
And from that day on, my left arm stopped rotting.
The black veins dug deep under my skin, etching themselves into a web of fine, intricate patterns.
Whenever I touched the safe house walls, I could hear the hum of electricity, the grind of gears, the thrum of pumps, the whir of cameras, and the click of machine guns.
They felt like a pack of sleeping beasts, their quiet breaths echoing in my head.
*****
Three months later, Claire came back.
She returned with only two people at her side.
The squad that once had twenty-seven members was reduced to only three.
She stood at the safe house entrance, covered in blood, her face pale. Out of habit, she pressed her palm against the scanner. "Open the door."
A red light flashed. [Unauthorized personnel. Access denied.]
Claire froze, and then leaned in for the iris scan.
The system: [Unauthorized personnel. Access denied.]
Finally, Claire looked up at the camera and said, "Alex, it's me."
I sat in the control room, watching her on the screen.
She looked thinner, more battered than before, but when she called my name, it was like she expected me to answer, no questions asked.
Like the moment she showed up, I was supposed to open the door for her.
I pressed the comms button, my voice calm. "Who is this?"