Chapter 236: Chapter 236 - A Hero
MALCOLM’S POV
They forced through.
The carts broke behind them with a long metal scream, and the dead poured into the gap like water through a cracked wall. Malcolm fired first, close enough that bone and black blood hit his sleeve. Harry fired after him. Arnulf shoved Archie forward, cursing under his breath, while Archie ran with his rifle clutched too tight and his eyes too wide.
"Move!" Malcolm barked.
They moved because there was nothing else left.
The street ahead opened for half a second, then closed again. Malcolm shot a walker through the face, drove his shoulder into another, and cut left before the twitcher on top of a car could launch. Harry fired at it and hit clean. The twitcher dropped, but the shot dragged more bodies from the next corner.
Archie stumbled over broken metal.
Harry turned back. "Kid!"
Malcolm cursed and swung his machete through a walker’s neck before it could drop on Archie. Harry grabbed the kid by the back of his jacket and hauled him up, but another dead thing caught Harry from the side.
Teeth sank into his arm.
Harry shouted once, raw and short, then buried his knife into its skull and tore himself free.
Blood ran fast down his wrist.
Archie stared at it.
"Run," Malcolm snapped.
Harry didn’t argue. He just ran.
They pushed deeper into the street, but there was no clear way anymore. The dead kept coming. From alleys. From cars. From broken stores. From both ends of the road. Malcolm fired until the shotgun clicked empty, then slung it back because reloading there would get him killed.
He drew the machete and cut his way forward.
One skull. Another throat. A hand off at the wrist.
Still more came.
His arm burned. His breath dragged rough in his chest. Every step bought them one more step, nothing more.
"Malcolm!" Arnulf shouted behind him.
He looked back.
Harry was slowing, one arm pressed tight to his chest, blood slipping between his fingers. Archie stumbled beside him, guilt and panic all over his face as he kept looking at the bite like it was his fault. Arnulf had one hand on Harry’s vest and the other on Archie’s shoulder, trying to drag both of them through a street that wanted them dead.
"Help!" Archie shouted, his voice cracking as a walker grabbed Harry’s side. "Malcolm!"
Malcolm looked back.
Arnulf’s eyes locked on him, wide and sharp despite the panic. He saw it. He knew exactly what Malcolm had seen.
The gap to the left.
Thin, but enough for one man moving fast. Malcolm could take it. He could cut through, climb the car, hit the alley, and run hard before the horde folded back in.
He could live.
For one second, the choice sat in front of him clean.
Iyisha was still at the base. Lance was still there. If he died here, he would never reach them.
Harry cursed as another walker grabbed at him. Arnulf shoved it back with the butt of his rifle, but he kept staring at Malcolm like he was waiting for him to decide what kind of man he was. Archie almost fell again, then shouted his name like it was the only thing he had left.
"Malcolm!"
Malcolm’s grip tightened on the machete.
The gap was still there.
So were they.
Harry bitten and slowing. Archie shaking so hard he could barely keep his feet. Arnulf holding both of them up even when the dead were already closing around his back.
Malcolm cursed under his breath.
He couldn’t leave them.
Not like this.
Not after they followed him out here.
He looked away from the gap and stepped back toward them, lifting the machete as the dead pressed closer. Hands reached for his chest. Teeth snapped near his jaw. A twitcher crouched on top of a van, body shaking before the jump.
Malcolm lifted the machete.
"Stop."
The voice cut through everything.
Just one word.
The street answered.
The twitcher froze on the van.
The walker in front of Malcolm stopped with its mouth open, fingers inches from his throat. Another dead thing brushed against Harry’s shoulder and kept walking past him. Then another. Then ten more.
The whole horde shifted.
Bodies turned away from them.
Hands dropped.
Heads lowered.
The dead moved around Malcolm like he was not there, flowing past his shoulders, past Harry’s bleeding arm, past Archie standing frozen with his mouth open.
No one fired.
No one breathed right.
Malcolm stood in the middle of the road with his machete raised, watching hundreds of undead pass them without taking one bite.
His chest went still.
Slowly, he turned.
Iyisha stood on top of a car.
Her hair whipped around her face. Blood ran from her nose and down over her mouth, but her eyes stayed locked on the horde like she was holding the whole street in place by force. One hand was lifted. Her fingers shook.
Around her, the dead obeyed.
Walkers dragged past the car and did not touch it. Twitchers twitched hard, fighting the pull, but they still turned away. Even the ones closest to her lowered their heads and walked around the hood like something in them knew better than to climb.
Malcolm had seen her angry.
He had seen her scared.
He had seen her infected and still fighting.
He had never seen this.
Arnulf whispered something behind him, but Malcolm didn’t hear it. Harry’s blood hit the pavement in slow drops. Archie stood beside him, shaking, eyes fixed on Iyisha like she had become something impossible.
Then Iyisha swayed.
The command broke across her face first. Her eyes fluttered. More blood slipped from her nose.
Aljun scrambled up the side of the car. "Iyisha!"
Her knees gave.
Aljun caught her before she hit the hood.
Malcolm moved.
He shoved through the undead as they passed, not caring that cold shoulders brushed his arms and dead mouths hung open inches from his face. None of them turned. None of them reached.
His eyes stayed on her.
Aljun looked up as Malcolm reached the car, breathless. He took Iyisha from him and lifted her into his arms. She was too light.
She’s too beautiful.
Her head fell against his chest, blood still wet under her nose, her breathing thin against his shirt. Malcolm held her tight and looked once at the horde moving around them.
The whole street was alive with the dead.
And she had bent it.
"Iyisha," he said, low.
Her eyes opened a little. Not enough to focus.
His jaw tightened.
"I’m here. You saved me."
Her fingers twitched against his vest.
Then her eyes closed.
