They burst through the heavy fire door and onto the open roof, the sudden expanse of the twilight sky stark against the claustrophobic darkness of the stairwell. The remaining survivors barely a dozen of the forty who had started the run collapsed against the gravel-strewn concrete, drawing in ragged, sobbing breaths.
Julian was the last one through. He slammed the heavy metal door shut, throwing his weight against it as he slid the rusted security bolt into place. The metal rattled violently almost instantly, heavy thuds vibrating through the steel as the things threw themselves against the other side.
The second the bolt clicked, Julian didn't check the lock again. He didn't look at the other kids crying on the gravel. He turned instantly, his eyes scanning the roof until he spotted Ryker, and then he was moving.
Before Ryker could even register the movement, Julian closed the distance. His large hands came up, his palms cupping Ryker's face, his fingers pressing firmly into his jawline.
"Ry," Julian breathed, his voice rough and uneven as he forced Ryker to look at him. His thumbs brushed quickly over Ryker's cheekbones, his hands slightly trembling against his skin. "Are you alright? Did you get hit on the steps? Look at me, are you hurt?"
For a second, Julian just held him there, his grip a fraction tighter than it needed to be, his chest heaving as he stared down at him. It was a brief, intense beat where the rest of the screaming world seemed to fade into the background for him, his focus narrowed entirely to the space between his palms.
"I'm fine," Ryker muttered, his voice flat.
He pulled back, and Julian let his hands drop, though his fingers lingered in the air for a split second before he turned away to face the rest of the group, his leadership persona snapping back into place.
Ryker stepped away, his gaze drifting down to his own feet.
He didn't think about Julian's hands, or the sudden, frantic weight of them against his face. He didn't care. All he could actually feel, pulsing through the sole of his right foot, was the phantom sensation from the stairwell.
He rolled his ankle slightly, testing the weight of his boot against the gravel, the memory of that crunch burning itself permanently into his mind.
Across the roof, the tall basketball player the one who had violently cleared his path on the stairs was pacing like a caged animal. His jersey was damp with sweat. He was breathing through his teeth, staring at the bolted door as if he expected the steel to melt. Ryker couldn't remember his name ,Marcus, maybe? It didn't matter.
"They're gonna get through," the athlete said, his hands white-knuckled around a baseball bat, his voice rising to a frantic pitch. "The lock's rusted! Look at it shaking! We need to block it with something. Help me move these HVAC units!"
"Shut up and breathe," Julian commanded, stepping into the center of the gravel roof. His voice had that familiar, authoritative weight, though the paleness of his face betrayed him. "The door is solid steel. They can't turn the handle. We have the high ground, the radio is broadcasting on loop, and help is coming. We just need to hold tight and keep watch on the edges."
Ryker watched the display from the shadow of a rusted water tank, a faint, imperceptible curl touching the corner of his lips.
He looked over at the athlete, whose hands were shaking so violently he could barely hold his weapon. Then Ryker looked down at his own hands. Dead steady. His pulse had slowed down to a rhythmic, almost hypnotic throb. He felt like the only sober person in a room full of thrashing, blind drunks.
"Hey."
Julian's voice broke through his thoughts. He had walked over, his massive frame blocking out the fading twilight, searching Ryker's blank face for a crack, a sign of trauma, anything.
"You're being quiet," Julian said softly, dropping his voice so the others wouldn't hear. He stepped closer, his shoulder brushing against Ryker's. "You went totally rigid down there, Ry. I thought... I thought I lost you for a second. Don't do that to me again."
"I was just processing," Ryker said, keeping his tone perfectly level, mimicking the expected shock of a survivor.
Julian exhaled a ragged sigh, leaning his weight against the water tank beside Ryker. His hand moved, his knuckles brushing against Ryker's coat sleeve, an anchoring gesture he didn't even seem fully aware he was doing. "I shouldn't have laughed in the gym. You were right. If we left them... if we just ran..." He choked on the words, looking back at the dozen sobbing students. "But I couldn't do it. I can't just let people die."
"I know," Ryker murmured.
Suddenly, a sharp, ragged gasp cut through the quiet night air.
Every head on the roof snapped toward the far corner.
It was the cheerleader. Ryker remembered her face from the pep rallies, but her name was completely gone from his head. She was slumped against the brick parapet, her head tucked between her knees, her entire body shuddering. But it wasn't a sob. It was a wet, rattling wheeze.
"Hey," a girl nearby whispered, reaching out a hand. "Are you okay?"
"Don't touch her," Ryker's voice cut through the air like a razor blade.
The entire roof went dead silent. Julian blinked, looking from Ryker to the girl in the corner.
"What are you talking about?" the athlete snapped, stepping forward aggressively. "She's just having a panic attack, man, leave her alone."
"Look at her collarbone," Ryker said, his voice entirely devoid of panic, flatly analytical. He didn't move from his spot in the shadows. "The fabric of her hoodie is torn. Right where she was packed into the bottleneck."
Julian's chest tightened. He took a cautious step toward her.
"Look at me, can you lift your head?"
Slowly, the girl raised her face.
The roof gasped collectively, several students instantly scrambling backward over the gravel. Her eyes weren't white yet not completely but the blood vessels in her sclera had shattered, turning her eyes a horrific, bleeding crimson. A thick, dark fluid was leaking from her nostrils, and her jaw was slack, her teeth clicking together in a rapid, involuntary spasm.
"Oh god, oh god, she's turning!" the athlete shrieked, backing away until his heels hit the ledge of the roof. "Julian! Kill her! Use the bat! Kill her before she wakes up!"
"Wait!" Julian shouted, his hands raising defensively, his moral compass violently spinning out of control. He stared at the girl, his bat heavy in his hand, but his arms felt like lead. "I...I cant!"
"She's turning, you idiot!" the athlete screamed, his face twisting in an ugly, self-preserving panic. "If you won't do it, I will!"
He lunged forward, raising his hockey stick like a golf club, aiming straight for the cheerleader's slumped head.
But Julian moved faster. Driven by a desperate impulse to keep order and prevent what he still saw as murder, Julian intercepted him, throwing his shoulder into the athlete's chest.
"Stop! Stand down!"
"Get off me!" the guy roared, blinded by terror. He swung the hockey stick wildly, the heavy fiberglass blade catching Julian squarely across the cheekbone with a sickening *crack*.
Julian stumbled back with a sharp grunt, blood instantly welling from a deep gash on his cheek, sending him down to one knee.
In the middle of the exploding chaos, the cheerleader collapsed off the wall and onto her hands and knees. A thick, dark fluid leaked from her nostrils as her limbs trembled violently.
"Julian... help me," she wept, her voice a cracked, desperate wheeze. She stretched a trembling, graying hand out toward him, her fingernails scraping weakly against the gravel. "I'm normal... I'm still me. Please, it just hurts, I'm normal—"
"Stay still," Julian choked out, pressing a hand to his bleeding face. He couldn't raise his bat against her while she was still begging. "We're going to get you help, just—"
He never finished the sentence.
Right before their eyes, the girl's pleading gaze went completely vacant. The shattered blood vessels in her eyes ruptured entirely, flooding her sclera with a thick, horrific crimson. Her spine snapped backward with a sickening, wet pop. Her jaw unhinged, and a high-pitched, predatory screech tore from her throat as she bared her teeth and lunged straight for Julian's exposed neck.
Ryker moved before anyone else could even blink.
He didn't hesitate. He stepped out of the shadows, closing the distance in a single, fluid stride. With a smooth, brutal arc, he swung the aluminum bat.
*CRACK.*
The sound was deafeningly loud in the open air. The bat connected squarely with the side of her skull mid-lung, an impact so violent it instantly cut off her screech and sent her crashing sideways onto the gravel. She didn't get back up; her body gave one final, violent shudder before going completely still.
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the roof.
The remaining students backed away into the shadows of the HVAC units, their faces twisted in absolute, pale-faced horror. Even though she had turned, the sheer speed and cold, emotionless efficiency with which Ryker had ended her left them entirely paralyzed.
Ryker didn't mind the stares. He simply wiped the edge of the bat against his pant leg, his expression entirely blank. To him, it was just a problem solved.
But the silence didn't last.
A sudden, violent shadow rose from the floor.
Before Ryker could even turn his head, a heavy grip caught the front of his jacket, and a fist crashed violently into the side of his jaw.
The sheer force of the punch sent Ryker stumbling backward over the gravel, his boots skidding before he hit the rusted water tank with a heavy, metallic thud. The aluminum bat clattered out of his hand, rolling across the concrete.
Ryker tasted copper instantly. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the gravel, slowly raising his head.
Julian stood over him, his chest heaving violently, his knuckles split and dripping with a mix of his own blood and Ryker's. Julian's face was pale, his eyes wide and dark with a terrifying mix of adrenaline and raw fury. His teeth were bared, his shoulders trembling.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Julian roared, his voice cracking with a raw, chaotic emotion that tore through the quiet night air. He took a heavy step forward, looming over Ryker, his hands curling into tight, white-knuckled fists. "You didn't hesitate! You didn't even try to pull her away or pin her down! You just stood there and waited for her to snap so you could smash her head in! You didn't have to go that far!"
Ryker sat against the water tank, leaning his head back against the rusted iron. His jaw throbbed intensely from the impact, the sharp tang of copper coating his tongue. He didn't fire back with anger, and he didn't challenge Julian's gaze. He just watched him, his face a mask of flat exhaustion.
Inside, however, the last remnants of Ryker's patience dissolved.
'You survived the hallway, you survived the gym, and you're still bleeding because you couldn't hit a girl who was already dead.'
The absolute, willful ignorance required to stand in the ruins of civilization and weep over a monster disgusted him. Julian's bleeding heart was going to get them cornered, trapped, and eaten if it wasn't curbed.
Slowly, Ryker raised a hand, using the back of his sleeve to wipe a heavy smear of blood from his chin. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm that stood in stark contrast to the frantic breaths of everyone else on the roof.
"She was already gone, Jules," Ryker said. His voice was quiet, completely level, stripped of any emotion whatsoever. He looked from Julian's bleeding knuckles back up to his wild, desperate eyes. "If I hesitated for a second, she would have torn your throat out. I did what I had to do."