Chapter 11: Blood in the Water
The world seemed to freeze for a moment, suspended in the tension of the room. Ethan's heart pounded in his chest as the man with the gun lunged forward. The metallic click of the safety being released echoed in the air, followed by the harsh scrape of boots against concrete.
Leah was the first to react. She wasn't a leader for nothing. In an instant, she dashed forward, her movements smooth and practiced, and her knife flashing under the dim light. The man's eyes widened, but it was too late. Leah was already on him, the blade sinking deep into his side.
A scream tore from his throat, sharp and primal, but it was quickly muffled as he staggered backward, clutching his wound.
Ethan froze. The chaos around him blurred as his body fought with itself. Part of him wanted to rush forward, to help, to make himself useful. But the other part— the terrified part—wanted nothing more than to run, to escape this madness that seemed to be closing in around him.
Leah had killed before. He had seen it. She was efficient. Ruthless. She wasn't afraid of blood—of taking a life if necessary. Ethan, on the other hand, could still hear the echoes of his first kill, the screams of the man who had threatened them, the feeling of the crowbar slamming into his skull. The memory was fresh, like a wound that wouldn't heal.
The man collapsed to the ground, his gun slipping from his hand, the blood pooling quickly around him. The others moved in after Leah, their faces cold and expressionless, as if they had done this a hundred times before.
But Ethan couldn't move. His legs felt like lead, his stomach churning in protest. His breath was shallow, uneven. He wasn't like them. He couldn't just turn off the part of him that was horrified by what was happening.
"Get a hold of yourself!" Leah's voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. Her eyes were cold, her posture tense. "We need to finish this."
Ethan's gaze snapped back to the group. They were already moving, two of them grabbing the fallen man's gun and securing the area, while the others scoured the rest of the compound. Leah didn't wait for him. She was already at the far end of the room, ransacking the shelves.
It was clear she wasn't waiting for anyone to catch up. This was about survival. This was about securing what they needed. No hesitation. No mercy.
But Ethan couldn't shake the weight of the man's body, the lifeless eyes staring at him, the blood staining the floor. It was everywhere, the stench of it overwhelming.
"Ethan."
The voice came from behind him. Sarah. Her voice was low, almost sympathetic, but there was no mistaking the urgency in it. "Come on. We need to move."
He couldn't answer her. His throat felt tight, his limbs frozen in place. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to be part of this anymore. But Sarah's hand on his shoulder, firm and insistent, pulled him from his thoughts.
"You're alive," she said, her voice quieter now, but it carried a weight of something he couldn't define. "You're here. You need to keep going."
Ethan nodded, though it felt like the words were stuck in his throat. He turned away from the fallen man, swallowing the bile rising in his stomach. The others were already halfway down the next hall, checking rooms and gathering supplies. Leah was moving fast, her eyes calculating as she picked through the rubble. She hadn't said anything since the kill, but Ethan could see it in her eyes: this was what she had wanted. This was the kind of person she had become.
He wanted to say something, to confront her, to demand answers for what they had just done. But the words never left his lips. Instead, he followed, dragging his feet as he joined the group.
They worked quickly, gathering what they could from the compound. Tools, weapons, medical supplies—all of it was taken without hesitation. As the minutes passed, Ethan's unease grew heavier. He kept his eyes on the ground, focusing on the task at hand, but the image of the dead man lingered in his mind. How many more would die because of them?
By the time they finished, the compound was silent again, but there was no relief. No sense of victory. Just the knowledge that they had done what needed to be done, even if it felt wrong.
They left the building quietly, the sun already beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a red glow over the city. The air was thick with the aftertaste of violence, the weight of what they had just done hanging heavy between them.
As they made their way back to the warehouse, Ethan's mind kept returning to the same question: How far would they have to go before they were beyond saving?
Leah walked ahead, the others falling in line behind her. No one spoke. No one needed to. The silence was deafening.
Ethan's hands trembled at his sides, his grip tightening on the crowbar. He wasn't sure what had changed in him, but something had. He didn't feel like the same person who had stumbled into this group weeks ago. The world had already taken so much from him, and now, it was taking more. His sense of self was slipping, replaced by something colder, something darker.
He didn't know how long he could hold on to who he was.
They reached the warehouse without incident, the familiar rusted metal door groaning as it was pushed open. Inside, the others went straight to their corners, unloading the spoils of their raid, but Ethan stayed near the door, staring out into the dark streets beyond.
He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being pulled deeper into something they couldn't escape. That with each kill, each choice, they were moving further away from the people they used to be.
And somewhere deep inside, Ethan knew it wasn't just the world that had changed. It was them.
And it was only a matter of time before the breaking point came for all of them.