Chapter 83: Finally Understood
"You’re going to watch," I continued, my eyes still glued to the man who was hanging from the rafters of my porch roof.
My voice stayed even enough that if you didn’t see what was going on, you wouldn’t think that it was a threat.
Just to be clear, this was completely, 100% a threat.
I had tried to use my words earlier today, and apparently, no one was listening. So I was going to... enhance... the lesson as it were.
"You’re going to stay right there, and you’re going to see what happens when someone decides to leave." I didn’t pause for dramatic effect. I was just done talking.
Of course, no one argued.
One of them swallowed, the sound so loud I could hear it from here and I could hear uneasy shifting as people tried to back away. "1, 2, 3, all eyes on me," I said, and the movement stopped.
While I had been addressing them, the man hanging in front of me was already fading fast. These people really weren’t cut out to survive anything, let alone an apocalypse.
His breathing had already changed. Each inhale was too sharp, then too shallow, his chest pulling against the strain in his arms. Sweat gathered along his temples and slid down his face in thin lines. His eyes followed me without blinking, fixed on the knife in my hand.
At least he was smart enough to be afraid.
And that was all I needed for my point.
"What none of you seem to understand that if you live alone, you die alone. If you live together, you die together. Me? I was more than happy to live alone and die alone. But all of you came to my house and made it all about us."
The man whimpered as I stepped forward. "The moment you decided that your life was more important than mine, you made a mistake. You decided that you had had enough and wanted to leave. You left the door open, inviting any and all zombies, serial killers, and God knows what else into my house to kill the rest of us."
There was a slight sound behind me as the remaining survivors finally understood what I was going on about.
"You don’t get to kill all of us simply because you were weak and scared."
I brought the knife up and placed the edge against his upper arm. The pressure was light at first, enough for him to feel it, enough for him to know what was coming. Then I pushed forward and drew the blade down in a single, clean motion.
The skin opened without resistance.
Blood surfaced immediately, gathering along the line before spilling over and running down his arm. He jerked against the rope, a sharp sound breaking out of him before he could stop it. His hands flexed uselessly, his weight shifting as his body tried to pull away from something it couldn’t escape.
I stepped back half a pace and watched.
The blood fell in steady drops, darkening the wood beneath him. It didn’t rush. It didn’t spray. It moved at its own pace.
Behind me, someone else made a gagging sound.
I didn’t turn, but it was quickly cut off.
I stepped forward again and made the second cut lower, across his forearm. This one went deeper. The blade slid through with controlled pressure, opening the skin cleanly and exposing the layers beneath. Blood followed faster this time, dripping from his elbow in a steady rhythm.
His breathing broke and his head dropped forward, then snapped back as he forced himself to stay conscious. "You need to stay awake," I reminded him. "Sleeping through lessons is a no-go."
The smell reached the porch a second later, and it wasn’t the smell of fresh human blood. Instead, it carried into the yard and settled into the air like a blanket of rot over everything.
The first sound came from the darkness. A faint, almost non-existent moan, the faint brush of feet on gravel. The nighttime zombies were almost a completely different creature from the daytime ones.
I didn’t know why, and I didn’t care.
All I needed to know was that they were much deadlier under the cover of darkness.
The humans around me started to move slightly, which made the zombies pick up their pace. Here was the secret to surviving the night... one that I had learned by mistake in my last life.
Zombies had shit vision... they relied on their ears at night more than their eyes. If you just stood still... if you didn’t make a sound... they walked right past you.
But I didn’t know anyone else who knew that secret.
Then again, maybe I was the only one crazy enough to let the zombies come right up to me, breathe on my face, and not twitch.
The man in front of me, with one with his blood dripping onto the wooden floor, looked at me. Then he turned his head just enough to understand what was really going on.
The look of fear was priceless.
When no one else moved, the zombies froze, too, and I placed the knife against his chest.
I drew another long, shallow cut from shoulder to sternum. The blade parted fabric and skin together, leaving a clean line that widened as blood followed. It spread across his shirt, soaking through and running downward in uneven paths.
He tried to speak again but he kept his mouth shut, his eyes going from me to zombie, from zombie to me as if he was trying to figure out which one wasn’t as much of a threat.
"That’s better," I praised him, and my voice made the zombies increase their speed. They weren’t quite in the front yard yet, but they could easily run that distance in a few seconds if they wanted to. heard it.
The man’s shoulders had started to drop despite the rope holding him in place. His arms trembled under the strain, his fingers twitching without purpose. Blood covered his skin now, running from multiple points, each cut adding to the total without overlapping the others.
He wasn’t dead.
Not yet.
I adjusted my grip on the knife and stepped closer. This time, I wasn’t playing around.
I chose the spot along his side, just above the hip, where the flesh was thicker. I pressed the blade in and cut deeper, separating muscle from muscle with controlled pressure. The resistance lasted a moment before it gave way.
His body reacted instantly.
A sharp scream tore out of him before cutting off into a broken breath. His head dropped forward, then jerked back again as he fought to stay conscious.
I finished the cut and stepped away.
Blood followed in a heavier flow now, pooling beneath him and spreading outward across the boards. It reached the edge and began to drip down onto the ground below.
The response was immediate.
Movement surged from the dark.
More bodies pushed forward, drawn in by the fresh scent. Hands reached up toward the porch, grasping at the air, at the wood, at anything they could reach. Their movements were slow, but they didn’t stop.
I crouched and cut a piece free from the edge of the wound.
It came away cleanly.
He didn’t scream this time.
He didn’t have the strength.
I stood and walked to the edge of the porch. The nearest one had already reached the railing, its hands dragging across the wood as it tried to pull itself closer.
I dropped the piece.
It didn’t fall far.
The reaction spread through them immediately. Heads turned. Bodies pressed forward. The sound shifted, rising slightly as they focused on the source.
I stepped back.
The man was fading.
His breathing had slowed into something shallow and uneven. His eyes struggled to stay open, rolling slightly before fixing back on me with effort.
"You opened a door at night," I said.
My voice stayed level.
"You made a choice."
His lips moved.
No sound followed.
I watched him for a moment longer.
Then I turned to the others.
They stood where I had left them.
Pale. Silent. Watching.
Good.
I faced him again.
"This is the cost."
His body sagged further.
The rope held.
The blood continued to fall.
Outside, the dead gathered.
Inside, no one moved.
No one spoke.
They understood.
And that was enough.
Walking inside, I closed the door behind me and locked it.
It was time for bed.
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