Chapter 93: By any means possible

BANG.

The bullet tore past the dummy’s shoulder and smacked into the wall behind it.

Carl cursed under his breath and lowered the gun. His hands shook as he reloaded, fingers clumsy, movements too slow.

Hale stood beside him with his arms folded, posture straight, face carved from stone.

“Back straight,” Hale said. “You’re leaning too much. Plant your feet. Shoulder-width.”

Carl adjusted.

“Elbows locked. Don’t overcorrect. Let the recoil settle.”

Carl nodded and raised the gun again.

BANG.

BANG.

Both shots missed.

The paper dummy swung slightly from the air displacement, untouched.

Carl lowered the gun with a long, frustrated sigh. “Maybe guns aren’t for me, Hale.”

Hale frowned but didn’t answer right away.

“I’m not a marksman like Aubrey. Or Adrian,” Carl continued. “Hell, even Terri’s getting better than me.”

He rubbed sweat from his eyebrow with the back of his wrist.

“Maybe I should just take lessons from Cherie. Melee weapons. Up close. Less… embarrassing.”

Hale cleared his throat.

“If you don’t learn how to shoot properly, you’ll be at a major disadvantage,” he said evenly. “Especially in a world like this.”

Carl stared at the dummy.

“You’re a smart kid,” Hale added. “You’ll get it. Repetition. Control. Discipline.”

Carl gave a small smile at that. “Yeah. Guess I’ll keep trying.”

He lifted the gun again, adjusting his stance the way Hale showed him.

“He hasn’t come back.”

The voice cut through the range sharper than any gunshot.

Carl’s aim faltered.

Hale turned first.

Aubrey stood at the entrance, eyes red, fists clenched at her sides. Her chest rose too fast, like she’d run all the way there.

Hale’s expression shifted. Just slightly.

Carl turned around. “Who?”

“Adrian!” she snapped, like they should’ve known.

Silence settled heavy between the three of them.

“He went on the expedition to retake the military base in Texas,” she continued, voice shaking. “Most of the soldiers came back.”

She swallowed hard.

“He didn’t.”

Carl’s frown eased. He turned back toward the dummy and raised his gun again.

“You people don’t care?” Aubrey’s voice cracked.

“Look, Aubrey,” Hale said calmly. “It hasn’t been the first time he disappeared for a few days.”

“Yeah,” Carl added, squinting down his sights. “Remember February? I could’ve sworn he was gone for a whole week—”

“This time it’s different.”

They both looked at her.

Her face had hardened. Not just scared.

Certain.

“He went there thinking Lila would be there,” she said quietly. “What if something happened to him?”

Carl hesitated, about to respond—

“I get that you care for him,” Hale cut in. “But you can’t go chasing after him every time he runs off.”

“The kid knows what he’s doing.”

Aubrey stared at them like they’d just betrayed her.

Carl turned back to the target and squeezed the trigger.

BANG.

The bullet missed again.

“Screw you two,” Aubrey said sharply.

Carl lowered the gun slowly, staring at the untouched dummy.

The silence that followed felt heavier than the recoil.

—

The smell of blood reached me before anything else.

It was thick and metallic, burning through my nostrils as my vision slowly cleared. For a brief second, I waited for the pain—for the impact of the bullet, for the numbness—but it never came.

I wasn’t shot.

My eyes focused ahead, and that’s when I saw her.

Lila was on the floor.

She lay a few feet in front of me, eyes wide and unfocused, her chest rising in shallow, uneven pulls. Blood spread rapidly beneath her, soaking into the cracks of the concrete and pooling darker by the second.

She must’ve pushed me out of the way.

The ringing in my ears dulled everything else.

I lifted my head.

The woman with the mullet stood near the doorway, gun still raised. A thin trail of smoke curled from the barrel. Her face had gone pale, like she hadn’t expected what just happened.

“Damn it, Lila,” she muttered under her breath. “You should’ve moved out the fucking way…”

Then she looked at me.

Whatever composure she had left drained from her expression.

Something inside my chest shifted.

She raised her gun again and fired.

I turned just enough to the side that the bullet tore past my shoulder without touching me. I felt the heat of it as it passed, but I didn’t flinch this time. I didn’t look away.

I looked directly at her.

In the hallway outside, I could hear boots pounding toward the room. Someone shouted, but the words blurred together. All that mattered was the woman in front of me and the blood spreading behind me.

I moved without thinking.

Lila’s gun was still within reach. I grabbed it and fired twice in quick succession. The first shot shattered her right kneecap. The second tore through the left. She collapsed instantly, screaming as she hit the floor.

The scream didn’t last.

It twisted into laughter.

High. Unstable. Almost delighted.

She writhed in her own blood, looking up at me with wide, unhinged eyes as if the pain meant nothing. I walked toward her slowly, each step controlled.

Her laughter echoed off the walls, mixing with the distant chaos outside.

When I stopped in front of her, she was still grinning through the pain.

“You’re not even worth being a hostage,” I said.

My voice was calm. Too calm.

Before she could respond, I raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

The laughter stopped instantly.

Perhaps that wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was impulsive.

I finally turned, dropping to my knees beside my bleeding out ex girlfriend.

The cold mask I had on shattered the second I saw how much blood there was. It kept spreading under her, dark and thick, soaking into the cracks of the concrete.

“No, no no no… no…”

My hands pressed over the gunshot wound without thinking. Warm blood slid between my fingers. It wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t slow down.

Her eyes found mine.

That molten orange that used to burn so bright was dim now. Fading.

“I’m here, baby… I’m here…” My voice barely held together. “I’ve got you.”

She smiled. Weak. Fragile.

Her hand lifted and cupped my face. I leaned into it like I needed it to breathe.

“I’m so happy…” she whispered.

My heart started racing. “Don’t talk like that. Don’t—”

“I got to see you again,” she said, words soft and broken. “After so long… I’m glad.”

“Stop talking like that!” I snapped, tears falling onto her cheeks. I wiped them away but more kept coming. She brushed her thumb under my eyes like she was the one comforting me.

“I love you so much, Adrian…even after all this time..”

The words hit me harder than the gunshot ever could.

Footsteps echoed down the hall.

My head snapped toward the door.

Something tightened in my mind again. Compressed. Focused.

I moved fast. Grabbed a chair and jammed it under the handle just as someone slammed into the other side. The door shook hard in its frame.

I turned back to the room.

Shattered window. Dead body. Blood everywhere. A table stacked with random supplies.

Think.

Another cough tore out of Lila. This one wet. Blood slipped from the corner of her mouth.

My chest tightened. I rushed to the table and threw things aside until something caught the light in my hand.

A stapler.

My breath came out shaky. I opened it. Closed it.

When I turned back to her with it, her eyes widened.

“Adrian… no…”

I knelt beside her and ripped the fabric around the wound. The sight of it made my stomach twist, but I forced myself to look.

“Just go,” she whispered. “There’s no saving me.”

I gently moved her hand away from mine.

“I’m not leaving you again,” I said. “Just work with me. Please.”

The door shook violently as someone slammed into it again. The chair scraped across the floor.

I pressed the stapler to her skin.

“Adrian—”

It clamped down.

She cried out, her nails digging into my arm hard enough to break skin. Tears streamed down her face. My vision blurred, but I kept going.

“Shhh. It’s gonna be okay,” I said, even though I had no idea if that was true.

Another clamp.

Then another.

I pressed my hand firmly over the wound, trying to hold everything together. This just had to last. Just long enough to get her real help.

The door burst open.

The chair flew across the room.

A man rushed in, weapon raised.

I didn’t hesitate.

I grabbed Lila’s gun, turned, and fired before he could take another step.

We burst out of the hallway and into the main corridor.

Lila stumbled beside me, most of her weight hanging off my shoulder. Her arm was wrapped tight around my neck, her blood soaking through my shirt. Every step looked like it cost her everything.

Boots pounded behind us.

I turned and fired.

The first man dropped. The second jerked back as the bullet tore through his chest. More rounded the corner, their eyes glowing molten orange, faces twisted with something that wasn’t fully human anymore.

“HES OUT!!” one of them screamed.

The sound echoed through the building.

More footsteps answered.

I tightened my grip around Lila and dragged her forward. “Stay with me,” I muttered. I didn’t know if she could even hear me.

A woman lunged from the side corridor. I shot her mid-step. She crumpled into the wall and slid down, leaving a smear of blood behind her.

My magazine was running low.

We reached the stairwell. I kicked the door open and pulled Lila inside. She almost collapsed down the first step, and I caught her before she hit.

“I’m slowing you down,” she breathed.

“Shut up,” I said, harsher than I meant to. “You’re not dying here.”

Shouts filled the corridor we just left.

They were close.

I fired blindly through the stairwell door as it swung open again. Someone screamed. Someone else kept coming.

God damn it.

I adjusted her weight and forced my legs to move faster down the stairs, gun raised, heart pounding, ready to shoot anything that stepped into my line of sight.

I didn’t know how I was escaping death this time.

But I swore I was going to tear through anyone who tried to stop me.

That was my resolve.

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