Chapter 37: “I Will Survive”

Jagger was awake.

His eyes fluttered open, vision swimming, the world snapping into painful focus just in time for a fist to slam square into his jaw.

“ARGH!”

White pain exploded across his face, his head snapping sideways as his teeth clicked together. The taste of blood flooded his mouth.

“PORPO?!” Jane and Lynis shouted at the same time, voices sharp with alarm.

“FUCKING CUNT?!” Porpo roared.

Her face was red and blotchy, streaked with tears that hadn’t had time to dry. Her eyes were wild, shining with raw emotion that sat somewhere between fury and terror. Before Jagger could even raise his hands, she punched him again, this time hard in the shoulder.

“THIS IS FOR THINKING OF ATTACKING ME!”

“Ugh,” Jagger groaned. His body felt heavy, sluggish, like he had just been dragged out of the deepest sleep of his life. He weakly lifted an arm, trying to shield his head, movements slow and uncoordinated.

“AND THIS IS FOR YOU FADING OUT ON ME! DON’T YOU DARE SCARE ME LIKE THAT!”

Her palm cracked across his face again, the sharp sound echoing down the ruined street.

“ASSHOLE!”

Everything blurred together. The smell of smoke, the sting of ash in the air, the distant snarls of monsters, and the ringing in his ears all mashed into a single, overwhelming haze.

“Wha…” he started, barely getting the sound out before another slap caught him on the other cheek, snapping his head back again.

“Don’t you ’wha’ me!” Porpo screamed. “You almost died, you useless piece of shit! You think it’s funny, making me think you’re gone forever? You’re an asshole! An asshole with a punchable face!”

She raised her fist again, knuckles white, arm shaking.

Jane caught her wrist mid-swing.

“Porpo, stop. That’s enough,” Jane said, her voice firm but gentle, carrying authority even through exhaustion. Her grip tightened just enough to make it clear she meant it. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Porpo glared at Jagger for another long second, chest heaving, then finally looked away. She yanked her arm free and nodded once, hard.

Lynis stepped in, grimacing as he did. His movements were stiff, his breathing shallow, but his eyes were sharp. He extended a hand toward Jagger.

“Get up, lah,” Lynis said. “We need to run already.”

Jagger blinked slowly. The ache from Porpo’s blows was already fading, dulling unnaturally fast as his body completed its final repairs. He took Lynis’s hand, fingers closing around it, and with a grunt and Lynis’s help, pushed himself upright.

His legs held.

That realization hit him harder than any punch.

He looked around.

Porpo stood a few steps away, arms crossed tightly over her chest, still glaring at him through tear-filled eyes. Jane watched him closely, worry written plainly across her face despite her attempt to mask it. Lynis stood beside him, jaw clenched, clearly in pain but refusing to show it.

Then Jagger looked down at himself.

His clothes were shredded, fabric torn and stiff with dried blood and black ichor. His shirt hung in tatters, his jeans ripped at the knees and thighs. He flexed his fingers slowly, half-expecting pain.

There was none.

His hands were whole. Unscarred. Smooth.

No bite marks. No broken bones. No torn flesh.

’She really did it…’

The thought settled heavily in his chest.

He drew in a deep breath. His lungs filled easily. The sharp, grinding agony that had once stabbed through his ribs was gone. His heartbeat was steady. Strong.

He remembered everything.

The pain. The terror. The crushing certainty that he was about to die. The void. The cage. The chains. The deal.

His fingers curled slowly into a fist.

’I will survive.’

“Alright,” Jane said, straightening despite the stiffness in her movements. “Get it together. We find a place to regroup, then we decide what we do next.”

Porpo nodded, wiping her face roughly with her sleeve. Lynis gave a short grunt of agreement.

Jane’s gaze settled on Jagger. Something had changed in his expression. The confusion was gone. In its place was something harder. Quieter. Like a switch had been flipped deep inside him.

They moved.

Jane took point immediately, her posture alert, eyes constantly sweeping the ruins ahead. Lynis followed behind her, limping slightly but keeping pace through sheer stubbornness. Porpo walked beside Jagger, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. She still glared at him, but he could feel the tension in her body, the fear she hadn’t quite shaken.

They slipped through the ruined city, keeping to the shadows, hugging broken walls and overturned vehicles. The sounds of the apocalypse pressed in from every direction. Distant shrieks. The wet crunch of something being torn apart far away. The echo of gunfire that cut off too abruptly.

Smoke drifted through the streets in low, choking clouds. The smell of blood and rot clung to everything, thick enough to taste.

They saw monsters in the distance, chasing survivors through intersections, bodies collapsing beneath claws and teeth. Once, something significant moved too close for comfort, its silhouette sliding across a nearby wall, but Jane signaled them to freeze, and it passed without noticing.

They kept moving.

“There,” Lynis said quietly, lifting a hand and pointing upward.

An apartment building loomed ahead, its concrete facade cracked but still standing. Several windows were shattered, others intact. It looked better than most.

“One of the safe houses we marked last time. Fifth floor. Stairwell kena blocked, but behind got fire escape.”

They circled the building carefully, boots crunching softly over broken glass and debris, until they reached the rusted fire escape bolted to the rear wall.

Jane tested the door handle and glanced back at the group. “This place may be secured, but you can never be too sure. Stay sharp.”

The door creaked open, hinges protesting softly.

Inside, the air was stale and dusty, thick with the smell of old concrete and mold. But it was clean. No fresh blood. No signs of recent movement.

“I take point,” Jane ordered. “Lynis, rear guard. Jagger, stay with me. Porpo, stick with him. Eyes open. Weapons ready.”

They climbed the fire escape, metal steps groaning quietly beneath their weight. Each sound felt too loud in the silence. On the fifth floor, Jane paused and peered through the small glass window in the door leading into the hallway.

Empty.

She leaned back slightly and whispered, “Left or right?”

She gestured for Jagger to pass it down.

Jagger turned to Porpo and whispered the question. Porpo passed it to Lynis. Lynis nodded once.

“Left. Five-oh-nine. End of the hallway.”

Jane nodded and eased the door open.

The hallway was a nightmare frozen in time.

Bodies lay twisted on the floor. Blood smeared the walls in dark, sticky arcs. Doors were ripped off their hinges, frames splintered as if something had burst through them with brute force. The air smelled faintly metallic beneath the dust.

They moved carefully, stepping over limbs, avoiding puddles that still glistened faintly.

They stopped at a door marked 509.

Beneath the number, someone had drawn two X’s side by side with a long, curved line beneath them, a crude smile carved into the surface.

The door was padlocked.

Lynis stepped forward without hesitation. “4211,” he said.

The lock clicked open.

“The code four-two-one-one,” he added softly. “All the safe houses we mark use this one.”

The door creaked inward.

And for the first time since everything had gone wrong, they had a place to breathe.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep