Jon burst into the kitchen.
His shoes skidded across the tiled floor as he caught himself against the edge of a counter. The room was modest, neat, and painfully ordinary.
A kettle rested on the stove.
A cutting board lay beside half-sliced onions.
A family calendar hung on the wall with today's date circled in blue ink.
Someone had been preparing a meal.
Then a deafening roar shattered the thought. The infected old woman charged through the doorway.
Jon did not hesitate and slammed the kitchen door with all his strength.
Bang!
The old woman's body struck the other side almost immediately. The entire frame shook, and another impact followed. Another impact followed almost immediately, sending dust drifting from the ceiling as the hinges groaned.
Jon backed away, his breathing ragged as his eyes darted around the room.
"What can I use..."
Kitchen knives were too small. Her claws would reach him before he got that chance to aim.
Wooden spoons were worthless.
A broom was too light.
Another slam hit the door; then a thin fracture crawled through the wooden frame.
Jon's pulse quickened, his mind spiraling.
"I now know these infected creatures are blind, but what next? How do I use that to my advantage?"
He opened drawers one after another, finding other kitchenware.
Forks, plates, bowls.
Essentially nothing.
Another crash jolted him. The top hinge of the door bent outward.
He looked beneath the sink.
Cleaning supplies and a bucket.
Still nothing.
The old woman's growling grew louder, and the door bulged inward faster.
Jon turned once more, and his gaze stopped.
Leaning against the wall beside the stove rested a heavy cast-iron frying pan.
Its black surface was scarred from years of use. Unlike the lightweight aluminum pans beside it, this one looked solid enough to survive a war.
Jon grabbed it.
It was heavier than he expected.
He tightened both hands around the handle.
"This will have to do."
Another impact rammed the door, and it burst inward.
The old woman stumbled through the broken frame with astonishing speed as splinters flew everywhere. She acted unbothered, moving her cloudy eyes mechanically until they locked onto Jon.
It all happened in the span of seconds. As soon as she saw him, she lunged.
Jon threw himself sideways in time for the old woman's claws to slice through empty air before slamming into the refrigerator.
The force dented the metal door. The claws bit deep into the refrigerator door. For one precious second, they stuck.
Now!
Jon swung the frying pan, connecting it to the side of the old woman's head.
Clang!
The sound rang through the kitchen like a church bell, and the impact echoed through Jon's arms.
The old woman's head jerked sideways, but she did not fall. Instead, the attack only helped her yank her fingers away from the metal dent, then she slowly turned back toward Jon.
A dark crack spread across part of her skull, yet no blood flowed from the wound. She showed no sign of pain.
Jon's stomach dropped, his fingers trembling.
"You are still standing..."
The infected roared again and charged.
Jon reacted immediately and began running around the kitchen.
The old woman followed directly behind, crashing into a chair and sending it spinning across the floor.
'She's faster.' Jon thought worriedly as she reached across the countertop and swung her claw horizontally.
Jon ducked beneath the hanging cupboards just before claws scraped sparks from the polished stone and swung again.
This time he aimed lower, and drove the pan with full force into the creature's knee.
A loud crack echoed and her leg bent awkwardly.
He stumbled backward, disbelief washing over him. It hadn't stopped her. She didn't so much as wince in pain or stop. She moved her bent leg and kept coming.
'How is she still able to move?' The sight terrified Jon. He swallowed heavy gulps of nothing when his shoulders suddenly struck the counter.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
He was backed to the sink, and there was nowhere else to go.
'I need to make a move,' He thought instantly as his gaze scanned his side and the infected creature several times in seconds.
He lurched when the infected lunged again.
Instinct took over, and Jon twisted sideways at the last possible instant.
The old woman missed him completely. Unable to stop her own momentum, she crashed chest-first into the countertop.
The old wooden cabinet beneath sank inwards and her upper body dropped awkwardly into the broken cupboard.
For one precious second...she was stuck once again.
Jon did not waste it.
He raised the frying pan with both hands, then brought it down.
Once…
Clang!
Then another and again.
The heavy iron struck the infected's skull repeatedly, sinking its head deeper inside the cabinet. The wood around splintered and the ceramic plates shattered beneath them, further damaging the infected.
However, the old woman only thrashed violently in response, clawing blindly behind herself.
One jagged nail tore across Jon's sleeve, ripping the fabric open.
Jon's heart nearly stopped. He hurriedly stumbled backward, his eyes immediately fixed on his forearm.
The skin beneath remained intact. There was no scratch or injury.
He let out a shaky breath in relief and held it tight.
In that span of seconds, the infected had pulled herself free from the broken cabinet.
"No..." Jon backed. "You are not getting me."
The infected remained unresponsive and forcefully moved its damaged leg across the floor.
'Her movement has slowed. It isn't by much, but it is enough.' Jon quickly understood.
'I think I can stop it somehow now.' He tightened his grip once more around the pan and stood his ground.
Just in time, the old woman charged again, and this time, Jon moved differently from before.
He met her halfway and stepped aside for the infected to rush past.
Then he swung with everything left in his body. The frying pan struck the back of the creature's head. The force drove her face-first into the kitchen wall.
Before she could recover—
He took another swing. Then another.
"Ahhh…" He roared with mixed emotion. The iron handle dug painfully into Jon's palms, his shoulders burned, and his breathing became ragged.
Still he continued until finally, the old woman slumped and collapsed onto the tiles.
Jon remained standing over him, panting heavily, and sweat dripping from his chin.
His arms trembled violently.
"...Is it over?"
The body lay still. Untrusting the situation, Jon waited five seconds.
Ten seconds, and still nothing.
He slowly lowered the pan.
Then—
The old woman's fingers twitched.
Jon's eyes widened. Without thinking, he lifted the frying pan once more.
"No."
The iron came down and then in rapid succession.
He did not stop until the body no longer reacted.
Not until every movement ceased. Until the kitchen became silent and then, the frying pan slipped from his fingers and struck the floor with a dull clang.
Jon staggered backward until his legs gave way and he slid down the cupboard beside the sink.
For a long time...
Jon simply sat there. His chest rose and fell, and his hands refused to stop shaking.
He had just killed his first human.