Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three bullets homed in on a bony dog-beast.
Two hit. One missed.
The beast twitched, growled, and finally fell limp.
"98th."
"Nala, I've got one. Quick."
Nala, who'd just killed her 98th beast, rushed over to Zaire.
He had a beast caged in a body lock—his legs wrapped around its torso, his arms controlling its wrists.
Nala hurried over and calmly placed her handgun against the man-beast's screaming head.
Bang.
The beast went still.
"Whew. You've really... acclimated to this thing called killing, huh?"
Zaire clicked his tongue as he questioned her.
Earlier that day, Nala had been a bad shot. But after 99 kills, her aim had sharpened dramatically.
A beast twenty feet away? No problem—Agent Nala was on the case.
And she never flinched while killing these... lot. Is that metal or mental?
Nala looked at Zaire. She could see the conflict warring on his face.
He finds it hard to kill beasts. Yet he has to.
"They're beasts, Zaire. Not human. Not animals. They're monsters. Do you really think, when they were alive, they'd want to turn into cannibalistic creatures?"
"I get that, but yeah, you're right... Still, killing is... I thought you'd find it harder."
"Well, sorry for not being what you imagined."
"Don't say that shit."
"I'm kidding. But seriously—did you ever have issues killing bugs, Zaire?"
"I mean... okay, they do look like bugs."
"Yeah, so that's it. Imagine—no, perceive them as not what they used to be, but what they are. Creepy crawlies, magnified. It'll make the killing a bit easier... Hopefully."
"You know what, Nala?"
"What?"
"I like your decisiveness."
"Well, thank you very much. But you know what, Zaire?"
"What?"
"I like that you think a lot before making decisions."
"I like that about myself too."
"And I like my decisiveness too."
"..."
"..."
"So, what? Should we like, shake on it or something?"
"Hahaha, you're stupid, Zaire."
*****
Zaire and Nala stood on the topmost floor of D-Block.
The corridor was empty.
The other group had probably already scoured the entire floor.
Zaire wordlessly looked at Nala. She looked back.
His eyebrows, in tandem with his eyes, asked: So, wanna scan this floor properly for your last kill?
Her lips, in tandem with her shoulders, replied: Okay, let's do this.
Room 511. The second-to-last room in the block.
This was where all hell broke loose.
The pungent smell of death assaulted them the moment they opened the door.
It was strong, rancid, and nasty. Even Nala's perpetually composed face wavered.
"I don't want to go in, but I've got a gun, skills, and you need one last kill. Will curiosity kill the cat?"
Zaire asked. His lips smiled, but his eyebrows didn't.
"You really want to go in?"
"First of all, it's 'we.' Secondly, why not? If now's not the time to be 'true detectives,' when is?"
Nala didn't reply. She quickly dashed into Room 510.
Earlier, she had spotted a packet of surgical masks there. So, she grabbed a handful and returned. She donned five and handed the other six to Zaire. Then, she motioned with her head: Go ahead, then.
"Thanks... And yeah, keep the door open. If shit really seems off, I'll scream, and you'll run."
"Bet."
*****
The rooms in Joonboy Enclave were all identical:
A huge living room with an attached kitchen.
Beside the kitchen ran a corridor.
Three doors on each side, and a final door leading to the balcony at the end.
Zaire and Nala stood in the living room.
Their eyes scanned every nook and cranny. They found nothing.
Biting his lower lip hard to override the fear, Zaire led the way to the corridor door.
He took in a deep breath. The blood from his lip seeped into his mouth.
Tasting iron, he opened the door.
The rancid smell multiplied. Both their faces cringed hard.
"Fuck this shit, Zaire. Let's get out of here."
The smell wasn't just blood and dread anymore—it was evil and death.
"Yeah, let's fuck off."
Zaire mirrored her instinct.
GRRRAAAAAA...
The grating scream made them both freeze.
Goosebumps. Cold sweat.
They couldn't even blink.
The open balcony door began to move.
Zaire bit his lip again.
Same spot. Much harder.
Hard enough to bite off a small chunk.
The pain still wasn't enough, but it at least got him moving.
With that sliver of movement, he kicked back.
A push kick—not meant to damage, just to propel.
It landed ruthlessly on Nala's solar plexus, throwing her back a few feet.
Nala landed on her back.
Breathless, she started retching.
Heaving painfully, she looked up.
All she saw was Zaire's drenched back.
And all she heard was:
"RUN!"
And all she could do was, run.