Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend

Chapter 229: Who in the fuck are you?

The wind hurled snow through my hair as I stared into the eyes of the devil.

Callahan stared right back.

His bloodshot eyes burned through the blizzard, unblinking, a crooked grin slowly carving its way across his face.

Beside me, I heard the snow crunch.

Lila shifted her footing.

Not enough for anyone else to notice.

Enough for me.

She was getting ready.

Behind us, muffled by the wind, voices echoed through the whiteout.

"Spread out!"

"Find them!"

Huxley.

Looks like he really did mind that I left.

Of course he did.

Callahan tilted his head, keeping the pistol trained squarely at my chest.

"Don’t seem like you got any more tricks up your sleeve now, do ya, soldier boy?"

I didn’t answer.

I just watched him.

Every movement.

Every breath.

Every tiny mistake.

His trigger finger wasn’t steady.

It trembled.

Only slightly.

Most people would’ve missed it.

I didn’t.

The cold had gotten into him.

His shoulders were tighter than normal.

His jaw clenched every few seconds.

Even his eyes narrowed against the wind whenever another gust slammed into his face.

His body was fighting the temperature whether he wanted it to or not.

Mine wasn’t.

The lattice had already adapted.

The cold barely registered anymore.

No stiff muscles.

No sluggish reflexes.

No numb fingers.

No loss of dexterity.

No hesitation.

I felt...

Normal.

And that made all the difference.

"You don’t wanna do this, Callahan."

I said it plainly.

No threat.

No shouting.

Just the truth.

For a split second, something flickered across his face.

Confusion.

Then disbelief.

Then embarrassment.

Then anger.

It almost made me laugh.

To anyone else, it would’ve sounded ridiculous.

He had the gun.

I had nothing.

Lila looked exhausted, barely able to stay upright after everything we’d just fought through.

By every logical measure...

He had already won.

Callahan barked out a laugh.

Short.

Sharp.

Empty.

"You’re one funny motherfucker, you know that?"

He shook his head slowly.

"I swear to God..."

He pointed the pistol harder at me.

"How the fuck do you keep doin’ that?"

The grin disappeared.

"I’m standin’ here with a gun pointed at your chest."

He jabbed the barrel toward me.

"You’ve got nowhere to run."

His voice rose.

"You’re cornered."

Another step.

"You’ve been chased."

Another.

"You’ve been locked up."

Another.

"And you’re still standin’ there talkin’ to me like I’m the one who’s fucked."

Snow whipped between us.

"I got the gun."

His voice cracked into a snarl.

"So tell me..."

"How the fuck are you still talking like that?"

I looked at the pistol.

Then back at him.

I didn’t say a word.

His lip twitched.

The silence irritated him more than any insult could have.

Then his eyes drifted toward Lila.

"And what about this bitch?"

His voice came out vicious.

"You ever get scared, freak?"

He looked her up and down with open disgust.

"How you gonna protect your man lookin’ like some shriveled-up little pussy?"

Lila didn’t answer.

Neither did I.

He laughed again.

"I’ve got the upper hand now, asshole."

He started walking.

Slowly.

Confidently.

Like he’d already imagined how this ended.

"You’re done."

Another step.

"No escaping this shit now."

I shifted my weight.

Not enough for him to notice.

Just enough.

He kept coming.

Five steps.

Four.

Three.

His boots slipped ever so slightly beneath the fresh snow.

Tiny.

Barely noticeable.

But it was there.

Two.

One.

Now.

I exploded forward.

His eyes widened.

The pistol snapped upward on instinct.

Too late.

I slammed both hands into his gun arm before he could squeeze the trigger.

The shot cracked into the sky.

The recoil threw his wrist sideways.

I drove my shoulder into his chest with everything I had.

The impact sent both of us crashing into the snow.

He grunted.

His body tried to twist underneath me.

The cold betrayed him.

His movements were a fraction slower than they should’ve been.

His left hand reached for my throat.

I trapped his wrist.

Drove my elbow into his jaw.

Once.

Twice.

His grip loosened.

The pistol slipped.

I caught it before it disappeared beneath the snow.

Callahan roared.

Not shouted.

Roared.

He threw his weight sideways.

I rolled with him, trapped his arm behind his back and wrenched it upward until I felt the joint lock.

He screamed.

His face slammed into the snow.

I shoved harder.

The pistol rested firmly in my hand now.

His own weapon.

Pointed nowhere.

His breathing came in violent bursts.

Steam poured from his mouth as he struggled beneath me.

Snow clung to his beard.

Half his face was buried.

The other half twisted with blind rage.

That had always been Callahan’s biggest problem.

His ego.

Before the infection.

After the infection.

It didn’t matter.

It had always been stronger than his judgment.

My grip tightened.

For a second...

Texas flashed through my head.

That room.

Negotiating for our guns.

The first time I’d put him in this exact hold.

The same angle.

The same arm trapped behind his back.

The same look of humiliation burning across his face.

Only now...

The man underneath me barely resembled the one I’d known.

His body bucked violently.

"You little fuck!"

He thrashed against my grip.

"Get your fuckin’ hands off me!"

His voice cracked into something almost animal.

"I’ll fuckin’ gut you!"

Spit flew from his mouth.

"I’ll rip your goddamn throat out!"

He kept struggling.

Kept cursing.

Kept promising every horrible thing he wanted to do to me.

Each sentence came out less human than the last.

His breathing turned into snarls between words.

His teeth snapped together as though he wanted to bite through the air itself.

The infection hadn’t taken away who he was.

It had stripped away everything except the ugliest parts.

Watching it happen...

Hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I’d known this man.

I’d hated him.

Fought him.

Threatened him.

But I’d known him.

Now there was almost nothing left.

Just rage wearing his face.

My finger settled against the trigger.

Part of me wanted to end it.

Right there.

Quick.

Merciful.

The same thought I’d had so many times with Lila.

The same impossible thought.

Maybe this wasn’t living anymore.

Maybe this was just suffering stretched out until someone finally had the courage to stop it.

"Lila?"

The name barely formed in my head before—

"ADRIAN!"

Her scream tore through the storm.

I looked up.

A burly man had Lila’s arms pinned behind her back.

She fought like hell.

Her boots dug trenches into the snow as she twisted violently, snarling and throwing her head back in an attempt to break free. The man barely moved. His grip only tightened, forcing another pained sound out of her as he dragged her a step backward.

His eyes were red.

Not the wild, bloodshot crimson of a baseline infected.

Controlled.

Focused.

He was one of them.

An intelligent one.

My stomach sank.

I turned my head.

Shapes emerged through the blowing snow.

One.

Then three.

Then six.

The blizzard itself seemed to come alive as silhouettes stepped from behind trees, abandoned vehicles, and snow-covered embankments. They appeared without urgency, almost leisurely, each of them carrying the same unnerving confidence.

They already knew where this was going.

More footsteps crunched behind me.

Then beside me.

Then to my left.

Within seconds...

There was nowhere left to look without seeing red eyes staring back at me.

I was surrounded.

Beneath me, Callahan started laughing.

Not loudly.

Not hysterically.

Just enough for me to feel the vibration in his chest through the arm I still had twisted behind his back.

"Told you..." he rasped, blood staining his teeth. "Told you..."

I ignored him.

Something else had caught my attention.

One of them stood several yards back from the others.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

A long black coat hung from his frame, untouched by blood, untouched by dirt, almost unnaturally clean against the white landscape. Snow landed on the fabric only to slide away moments later.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t posture.

He simply watched.

His eyes were grey.

Not red.

Grey.

Calm.

Cold.

The others shifted constantly, breathing harder than normal, their infected instincts leaking through every movement despite their intelligence.

He didn’t.

There wasn’t a flicker of that same hungry tension behind his gaze.

Whatever infection lived inside him...

He had it on a leash.

The control reminded me of Lila.

No...

Even more controlled than Lila.

He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

It wasn’t hatred.

It wasn’t curiosity.

It wasn’t amusement.

It was something quieter.

Like a man studying a photograph he’d spent years trying to find.

...Who in the fuck are you?

"You really are a fuckin’ idiot."

Callahan’s voice dragged my attention back down.

"If you thought I came alone..."

He grinned through gritted teeth.

"...kid."

I stared at him for a moment before finally lifting my eyes again.

The circle had closed.

There wasn’t a single gap left.

The infected stood shoulder to shoulder around us, silent except for the wind pushing through them.

No one rushed me.

No one attacked.

They simply waited.

As if someone else was supposed to decide what happened next.

Callahan laughed again.

"Look around."

His voice came out breathless, broken up by the pressure I still had on his arm.

"It’s over."

His smile only widened.

"You just ain’t figured it out yet."