Chapter 85: Ethan?

"Squeak!"

The answer was immediate. More than a dozen Golden Snub-nosed Monkeys burst out of the ruins. One dropped from a broken balcony. Another crawled from under an overturned car. Two leaped off the Museum wall. Several carried steel bars. Others came with nothing but blood on their claws. In seconds he was surrounded.

"Damn it."

He drew the sword in one motion. A monkey lunged. He stepped aside. The blade flashed. Blood sprayed the pavement. The monkey went down with its throat open. A second came from the other side. He turned and cut across the neck. Two down. Three more were already on him.

He caught a steel bar on the flat of the sword.

Clang.

A kick took him from behind. He stumbled. A stone hit his shoulder. Another took his ribs. They were fast, and they were not reckless. One distracted. Another took the blind side. A third waited for the recovery and struck. Every opening he made, another body filled. He cut one across the arm. It shrieked and fell back. Another took its place.

They’re trying to wear me down. ℴ

Then a flute. Soft. Almost beautiful. His face darkened. He knew that sound. A second later the dead moved. Hundreds of zombies came out of the western side of the Museum, pouring through the collapsed wall. Some crawled the rubble. Some climbed broken windows. The flute kept playing somewhere past the plaza.

He gritted his teeth. "Max." Of all the people who could have walked into this. He backed off the monkeys as the horde rushed the building. "Of course you had to join the party."

Monkey troop on one side. Zombies on the other. Him in the middle.

Something moved behind him. Fast. Instinct screamed. He turned too late. Three Speed Zombies came through a shattered window, bodies already committed before their feet hit the floor. One went for his throat. He twisted. A bone blade passed an inch from his neck. He swung and forced it back. Another was already behind him. He felt it a fraction late.

The blade tore across his back.

Shrak.

Pain blew through him. A chunk of flesh peeled. His legs nearly went. "Hngh." He stumbled, one hand on the wound. Warm blood poured between his fingers. The monkeys were still closing. The zombies were still coming. His Space energy was almost gone. He had been fighting too long.

Another Speed Zombie lunged. He barely cleared the claws. No. Not another second. He forced what was left into the ability. The air distorted. He vanished.

He came back inside the Survival Space and his knees buckled. Elena was already running. "You’re hurt!" She stopped when she saw his back. Ugly. Deep. Blood down his side, and in places the tear went to the bone. Her face tightened. "That needs treatment now."

The women moved. Gauze. Bandages. Aria stared at the wound and did not speak. Ethan did not answer them. He pulled a reddish Core from storage and swallowed it. It dissolved. Warmth spread. His reserves started to climb. Not fast enough. He took a black Core and swallowed that too. The difference was immediate. Energy surged. Space energy came back. The pain dulled. The bleeding slowed. He exhaled, lowered himself to the floor, and looked at the screen.

Outside, the monkeys had already pulled back. The three Speed Zombies had not. They were searching. Searching for him.

A golden blur dropped through the broken dome. Ethan’s eyes narrowed. The Golden-Winged Corpse. She landed in the first-floor hall, and she was not what she had been. Skin almost human. Golden wings unfolded, each feather catching the moon with a metal sheen. The red glow at her fingertips was brighter. Stronger. Much stronger.

Her eyes crossed the hall. The three Speed Zombies froze. Then all three made the same choice. Run. They sprinted for the broken entrance. She smiled. Not a human smile. No warmth. Only amusement. Her wings snapped open.

Whoosh.

She shot forward. One zombie managed three steps. A golden blur passed it. A fingertip bone blade punched through the chest. It froze. She pulled her hand free, took the head in both hands.

Crack.

The skull shattered. A red Core flew out of the wreck. She caught it in her mouth and swallowed it whole. The other two did not wait. They hit a nearby alley and vanished between the buildings.

She did not chase the two that got away. She turned her head instead, slow, like the alley had already stopped mattering. Her eyes settled on the Museum counter.

Ethan’s blood went cold. That was the spot. The Survival Space sat on that counter, folded into a place no ordinary eye should have been able to find. She was looking at it anyway. Not at the wreckage. Not at the blood. At the exact place he was hiding.

A strange smile. The wings moved, gentle, feathers ticking against each other. She descended. Soft. Almost graceful. Glass cracked under her bare feet and she did not seem to notice. She crossed the ruined hall without hurry. Her feet touched the counter. Then she looked straight at the fold in the air where he was.

For several seconds nothing happened. Dust drifted. Somewhere outside, a bat shrieked and was cut off. Inside the Space, nobody breathed right.

A woman’s voice came through the ruined Museum. Cold. Clear. Completely human.

"Ethan."

He froze. The name hit harder than the blade had. No. Not the name he used in his own head when he was alone with the system. She had used the name of the body he had inherited. She knew who that body had been. She had said it to an empty counter, in a hall full of dead glass, as if he were standing on it.

Elena’s hand stopped halfway to the gauze. Aria looked at the screen, then at him. Neither of them spoke.

The voice came again. Closer, somehow, though she had not moved. "Come out."

The Survival Space went silent. Lana made a small sound and Elena pulled her in without looking away from the screen. Ethan stared at the golden wings, the almost-human face, the smile that had no warmth in it. For the first time since the apocalypse started, hiding in here did not feel like safety. She could speak. She knew the name. She could find him through the Space.

If an S-rank zombie, or a King-rank animal, could sense the Space by perception alone, then the refuge had a crack in it. He needed to be stronger. Or he needed a way to hide the Space from senses like hers. Until then it was not a fortress. It was a room with a door someone else could see.

She was still smiling. One hand rested on the counter, fingers light, red glow faint at the tips. She did not strike the wood. She did not have to. The question was no longer whether she knew where he was. She did. The question was why. What the Golden-Winged Corpse wanted from the man who wore Ethan’s body, and how long she was willing to stand there and wait for him to answer.