Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend

Chapter 206: Alive

Lila slept soundly on my shoulder as the truck rolled down the cracked highway.

The engine groaned every few seconds like it was protesting its own existence, but somehow the rusted piece of junk kept moving.

Music played softly through the speakers.

Faint.

Distorted.

An old indie rock song I vaguely recognized.

Aubrey was singing along.

So was Hale.

That alone was weird enough to throw me off.

Hale barely talked most days.

Getting him to sing was like getting a brick wall to develop a personality.

Yet there he was, leaning his head against the window, quietly mouthing lyrics while staring out at endless stretches of abandoned road.

Under normal circumstances, I probably would’ve joined them.

I knew the song.

At least parts of it.

But every time I thought about opening my mouth, something stopped me.

Maybe it was the way Aubrey hadn’t looked at me since we got in.

Maybe it was the argument.

Maybe it was the feeling that everyone else had quietly moved back into orbit with each other while I was still floating somewhere outside the atmosphere.

Lila shifted against me.

Immediately, my attention dropped to her.

Her face was relaxed.

Peaceful.

It was strange seeing her like that after everything.

The blood.

The infection.

The way she’d cut through half the borough like a force of nature.

Now she looked completely harmless.

Like none of it had happened.

One of her hands remained wrapped around my wrist even in her sleep.

Like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.

The thought should’ve made me uncomfortable.

Instead it made my chest hurt.

I looked around the truck.

Everything seemed normal.

Or at least close enough to fool someone.

Isabella sat beside Aubrey.

Their shoulders touched occasionally whenever the truck hit a bump.

Naomi sat near the back, quietly cleaning dried blood from a knife.

Terri stared out the window.

She hadn’t said more than ten words since we’d left.

The dark circles under her eyes looked worse than before.

Every now and then her hand would twitch slightly.

Like she was replaying something.

Like she couldn’t stop replaying it.

Then there was Cherie.

She sat alone.

Not physically.

There wasn’t enough room for that.

But somehow she still managed it.

Her forehead rested against the glass.

The scenery rolled past her reflection.

Dead forests.

Burned vehicles.

Abandoned homes.

She watched all of it without really seeing any of it.

I knew that look.

People got that look after they lost something they couldn’t get back.

My stomach tightened.

These were my friends.

Weren’t they?

The thought sounded stupid the moment it crossed my mind.

Because obviously they were.

But lately it felt like everyone had gotten a different version of me than the one I remembered.

A version I wasn’t sure I liked either.

"So..." I started.

Immediately I saw Aubrey’s face scrunch slightly.

Not enough for anyone else to notice.

Enough for me to notice.

The feeling in my stomach got heavier.

"Where are we even going now?"

Nobody answered.

The song continued.

Aubrey reached forward.

Turned the volume up.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

Just enough to make sure the music answered instead.

I looked away.

"Oh."

The word came out quieter than I’d intended.

Nobody acknowledged it.

The truck kept moving.

The song kept playing.

I sank further into my seat.

For a while, nobody spoke.

The silence wasn’t hostile.

That would’ve almost been easier.

It was the kind of silence people created when they didn’t know what to say anymore.

The kind that formed after arguments.

After loss.

After disappointment.

The kind that lingered even when nobody wanted it to.

Eventually I looked toward Cherie.

She was still staring outside.

I hesitated.

Then spoke anyway.

"Cherie."

No response.

I wasn’t even sure she’d heard me.

"Cherie."

This time she blinked.

Slowly.

Then looked over.

"What?"

Her voice wasn’t angry.

Just tired.

I swallowed.

"Where’d your friends go?"

The second the question left my mouth, I regretted it.

Something changed in her expression.

Not visibly.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

The way someone’s face changes when they accidentally touch a bruise.

For a second I thought she wouldn’t answer.

Then she looked back out the window.

"They’re gone."

The response hit harder than it should’ve.

Maybe because of how simple it was.

"What do you mean?"

A small laugh escaped her.

It wasn’t a happy sound.

"They left."

I frowned.

"Left where?"

She shrugged.

"I don’t know."

I waited.

She didn’t continue.

"So they’re coming back?"

That got another laugh.

This one somehow sounded worse.

"No."

The word settled heavily inside the truck.

I glanced toward her.

She was still staring outside.

Still watching the passing landscape.

"You don’t know that."

"I do."

Her voice remained calm.

Matter-of-fact.

Like she’d already had this conversation with herself a hundred times.

I stayed quiet.

Cherie finally looked at me.

Her eyes looked older.

That was the only way I could describe it.

Older.

"Bill was already halfway out the door before any of this happened."

She looked down briefly.

"Harry follows Bill."

A pause.

"And Jackson follows Saul."

Something tightened in her jaw.

Barely.

"They’re together."

The words sounded like they were supposed to comfort her.

They didn’t.

"I think that’s enough."

I didn’t know what to say.

So I didn’t.

Cherie looked back toward the window.

"I spent months with those idiots."

A tiny smile appeared.

Then vanished.

"We fought."

Another pause.

"We almost killed each other a few times."

The smile returned briefly.

Then disappeared again.

"And then one day you look up and they’re gone."

The truck hit a pothole.

Nobody spoke.

"I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly."

That one came out quieter.

I wasn’t sure anyone else heard it.

I did.

And suddenly I understood.

Because while I’d been obsessed with finding Lila...

Cherie had lost people too.

Not died.

Somehow that almost made it worse.

Because dead people stayed dead.

Gone people could come back.

Which meant part of you kept waiting.

Waiting for a reunion.

Waiting for a miracle.

Waiting for something that might never happen.

"I’m sorry."

The words left me before I could stop them.

Cherie blinked.

Then looked at me.

"For what?"

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Honestly?

I wasn’t even sure anymore.

For the argument.

For what I said.

For what happened.

For all of it.

She seemed to understand anyway.

Because her expression softened slightly.

Only slightly.

"I don’t really have the energy to be angry anymore, Adrian."

That hurt more than if she’d screamed at me.

Because anger meant she still cared enough to fight.

This felt different.

Like exhaustion.

Like grief.

Like somebody setting something down because they couldn’t carry it anymore.

I looked away first.

Lila shifted beside me.

Her eyes opened.

Immediately she looked around.

Searching.

The second she saw me, she relaxed.

Her fingers tightened around my arm.

Then she laid her head back down and went right back to sleep.

The entire process took less than five seconds.

Nobody missed it.

I caught Hale watching.

I caught Aubrey watching too.

Neither of them said anything.

That somehow felt worse.

The truck continued forward.

Miles passed.

Hours passed.

The world outside slowly darkened.

And somewhere far away from the road we traveled, somewhere disconnected from all of us entirely—

A steel door slid open.

The facility sat buried beneath a mountain.

Far north.

Far enough north that most people had forgotten it existed.

Rows of monitors illuminated a dark control room.

Scientists.

Military personnel.

People who looked like they hadn’t slept in days.

A woman stood at the center console.

"Play it again."

The footage restarted.

The borough.

Chaos.

Blood.

Screaming.

Then—

Lila.

The room went silent.

Again.

The footage showed infected attacking civilians.

Ignoring each other.

Moving unpredictably.

Then it showed Lila.

Walking directly through them.

Not attacked.

Not chased.

Not acknowledged.

Like she existed outside whatever rules governed the rest.

The footage continued.

Lila raising a weapon.

Protecting Adrian.

Killing infected.

Moving with impossible certainty.

The video stopped.

Nobody spoke.

Finally, one of the researchers swallowed.

"That’s not possible."

The woman didn’t answer.

Her eyes remained locked on the frozen frame.

On Lila.

On the smile she’d worn.

On the strange clarity behind her eyes.

A military officer stepped forward.

"Tell me what I’m looking at."

Silence.

Then—

"We think the pathogen adapted."

Nobody moved.

The researcher continued.

"It isn’t trying to kill her."

The officer frowned.

"What?"

The woman finally turned around.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like she was afraid of saying it out loud.

"We believe it’s using her."

The room went completely still.

A monitor flickered.

The frozen image of Lila remained.

Smiling.

Watching.

Waiting.

The researcher swallowed.

Then finally delivered the sentence nobody wanted to hear.

"We don’t think she’s infected anymore."

The officer stared.

Confused.

"What does that even mean?"

The woman looked back toward the screen.

Toward Lila.

Toward Adrian standing beside her.

And for the first time all night—

She looked genuinely afraid.

"It means," she whispered, "we may have just witnessed the first successful transition."

Nobody breathed.

The screen flickered once.

Then went black.

And somewhere inside that darkness—

A new file appeared.

CLASSIFICATION: ACTIVE EVOLUTIONARY EVENT

SUBJECT STATUS:

ALIVE.