---
The fourth floor hallway stretched before them, dark and silent. Lisa's Mutant Rat scuttled ahead, its nose twitching, tail dragging against the carpet. Behind it, Fidex moved with the heavy certainty of a machine, four arms hanging loose at its sides.
Jin followed, crowbar in hand. Mark and Simon flanked him, their own Summons bringing up the rear—two generic corpses that had once been someone's neighbors, now reduced to weapons.
Simon had been quiet since they'd left the fifth floor. Jin didn't ask. The chained door at the end of the hallway, the muffled sounds from within, the way Simon had stood there for a long minute before turning away—that was enough.
The Mutant Rat stopped. Its body went rigid, head raised, a low chittering sound escaping its throat.
"Something's there," Lisa said.
Before anyone could respond, the hallway erupted.
A shape lunged from a doorway—a Zombie, arms extended, mouth open. The Mutant Rat leaped, sinking its teeth into the creature's cheek. But a second shape followed, faster, its claws raking toward Lisa.
Fidex moved.
One arm caught the second Zombie by the throat, slamming it against the wall. Another arm drove a fist into its chest, ribs cracking audibly. The Zombie convulsed, clawing uselessly at Fidex's metal‑hard skin.
The first Zombie shook off the Mutant Rat and charged again. Fidex's third arm shot out, claws extended, and drove into its shoulder. Blood sprayed. The creature stumbled, arm hanging by a thread of sinew.
Mark's Summon stepped forward to engage, but a third Zombie emerged from the same doorway, then a fourth. They moved with a coordination that felt wrong—not mindless, not desperate. Purposeful.
Jin tightened his grip on the crowbar.
"Wait!" A voice cut through the chaos. "It's a misunderstanding! We're survivors, not monsters."
Fidex's claws stopped a millimeter from the second Zombie's skull. Jin held the mental command, watching as figures emerged from a room further down the hall.
Six people. Maybe seven. The lead man was in his early forties, buzz cut, broad‑shouldered, moving with the ease of someone who'd spent years in uniform. Behind him, a younger man with dyed yellow hair and sunken eyes stared at Fidex with poorly concealed shock.
Two of the others wore security guard uniforms—familiar faces from the building's pre‑fog days. The rest hung back, tense, hands on whatever weapons they'd managed to find.
"Who are you?" Jin's voice was calm.
The buzz‑cut man stepped forward, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Nathan. Former captain of the property security team." He gestured at the two uniformed men behind him. "You've seen these faces at the entrance. We're all from this building."
Jin didn't lower the crowbar. "Your Summons attacked us."
"A mistake." Nathan's gaze flicked to Fidex, then to the two Zombies pinned against the wall. His jaw tightened. "We were searching for supplies. Heard movement in the hallway. Thought it was another pack of those things." He pointed at the Mutant Rat, then at Mark and Simon's Summons. "Didn't realize there were other survivors with their own… with their own Envoys."
Envoys. Jin filed the term away. A different name for the same thing.
"You're from the first floor," he said. It wasn't a question.
Nathan nodded. "We've got a group there. About thirty people total. Survivors who made it down when the fog hit." He paused, studying Jin's face. "Do you mind if we release our Summons first? Then I can explain properly about the situation downstairs. There aren't many of us—we're all sticking together for warmth."
Jin considered the offer. Thirty survivors meant thirty mouths to feed, thirty potential threats. But it also meant thirty pairs of hands, thirty weapons, thirty chances to trade information.
He glanced at Simon. The older man's face was unreadable, but his Summon stood ready, iron pipes raised.
"Release them," Jin said.
Fidex stepped back. The two Zombies slumped to the floor, gasping, their wounds already beginning to close. The yellow‑haired young man rushed forward, kneeling beside them, his expression a mix of relief and resentment.
Nathan let out a breath. "Thank you. We're still figuring out how this all works." He glanced at Fidex again. "You've gotten… further along than most."
"I've been lucky," Jin said.
"Lucky." Nathan's mouth twitched. "Sure."
He straightened, motioning for his people to stand down. The tension in the hallway eased, but no one lowered their weapons entirely.
"You said you're from the first floor," Jin said. "What's the situation?"
"Controlled. For now." Nathan's expression darkened. "We've sealed the main entrance. The lobby is our gathering area. But food's running low, and not everyone's pulling their weight." He glanced at the yellow‑haired young man, who was now helping one of the Zombies to its feet. "There are tensions."
"There always are."
Nathan nodded slowly. "You've cleared the upper floors?"
"Fifth through seventh. Working our way down."
"We've cleared first through third. Haven't pushed past the fourth yet." Nathan looked down the hallway, toward the stairwell. "If you're willing to coordinate, we could cover more ground. Share resources."
Jin didn't answer immediately. He could feel Mark and Lisa watching him, waiting for his lead. Simon had gone very still, his attention fixed on something only he could see.
"We'll talk," Jin said. "But first, I need to understand what we're dealing with. How many combatants do you have? How many Summons?"
Nathan hesitated. "Including me? Four people with Envoys. The rest are civilians—elderly, kids, people who didn't survive the transformation. We've been keeping them in the back rooms, away from the fighting."
"And the ones who did survive the transformation?"
"We've lost some. A dozen, maybe more. They turned into those things." He gestured at the Zombies, now standing again, their wounds already knitting closed. "These three are ours now. Contracted. They're not…" He trailed off.
"They're not what they were," Jin finished.
"No."
The word hung in the air. Jin thought of Simon's son, chained in a dark room on the fifth floor. He saw the same thought flicker across Simon's face before the older man's expression shuttered again.
"We need to secure this floor first," Jin said. "Then we can talk about coordinating."
Nathan nodded. "Agreed. Let's finish clearing the fourth floor together. Then I'll take you down to the lobby, introduce you to the others."
He extended a hand. After a beat, Jin took it.
The grip was firm, the calluses on Nathan's palm the kind that came from years of work, not sudden violence. A soldier, Jin guessed, or something close to it. Retired, maybe. The kind of man who knew how to organize chaos.
"One thing," Jin said, releasing his grip. "The water situation upstairs is critical. You have a source down there?"
Nathan's face tightened. "We've been rationing. There's a maintenance closet on the first floor with some bottled water—maybe forty gallons total. But that's for thirty people. It won't last long."
"Then we need to move fast."
Nathan's jaw set. "Let's clear this floor. Then we'll figure out what comes next."
---
They cleared the fourth floor in two hours.
Nathan's group moved with practiced coordination—two Summons forward, three security guards covering the flanks, the yellow‑haired young man directing from the rear. Jin noticed the way the young man's eyes lingered on Fidex, the way he measured each kill, each movement, calculating.
Josh, one of Nathan's people called him. The one who'd been causing trouble over rations.
Jin filed the name away.
They found seven Zombies in total, scattered across the remaining apartments. Fidex handled most of them, its four‑armed form moving through the narrow hallways with brutal efficiency. Nathan's Summons—the two from the initial encounter, plus a third that had been waiting in reserve—took down two more. Mark's Summon killed one, though it took longer, clumsier.
By the time they reached the stairwell, Jin's fusion feedback had pushed him to the edge of exhaustion. He could feel the metal in his skin humming, demanding more, always more.
[Zombie Flesh: LV1 (22% to LV2)]
Eighteen percent from ten corpses. The rate was slowing. He'd need more. Always more.
Nathan watched him from across the landing, something unreadable in his expression. "You're pushing yourself hard."
"We all are."
"Not like you." Nathan's gaze moved to Fidex, standing motionless behind Jin. "I've never seen an Envoy that advanced. Not in this building."
"It's been a long three days."
Nathan didn't press. Instead, he turned to the stairwell door, hand on the handle. "The lobby's through here. I'll introduce you to the others, show you what we've got. Then we can talk about next steps."
Jin nodded. He glanced at Simon, at Mark and Lisa, making sure they were ready. Mark's hand was tight on his crowbar. Lisa had her Mutant Rat on her shoulder, its eyes bright and watchful. Simon stood apart, his Summon beside him, his face carved from stone.
"Let's go," Jin said.
Nathan pushed open the door.
The stairwell descended into darkness. The smell of the lobby—dust, sweat, the faint copper tang of old blood—rose to meet them. Somewhere below, a child was crying, the sound muffled, desperate.
And beneath it, something else. A pressure, a weight, the same wrongness that had pressed against Jin's mind since the fog first fell.
The lobby waited.
---
End of Chapter 12