heavenward | n.scatorccio

The crackling radio was still ringing in Julianna's ears when everything suddenly shattered—literally and figuratively.

The calm they'd just found evaporated in an instant, replaced by the deafening sound of glass breaking. It was as if the world itself had torn open, and the air was filled with the heavy, eerie sound of the windows shattering one after another.

Julianna's heart leapt into her throat as she spun toward the noise. Her brain couldn't catch up with her body fast enough. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but the moment she turned, a flood of infected poured through the station, their grotesque forms surging into the room like a wave crashing onto a fragile shore.

There were too many. Too many to count. In the blink of an eye, the sanctuary they had fought so hard to find was turned into a warzone.

It was impossible to stay calm, impossible to keep track of who was who in the madness. Shauna's voice, Natalie's, Taissa's—they all blended into a cacophony of noise as they scattered, each trying to find a way out.

"Julianna! Stay close!" Taissa's voice cut through the storm of chaos, but in the chaos, there was no way to reach her. Julianna couldn't see the others, couldn't even hear them above the pounding of her own heartbeat.

She backed away from the growing crowd of infected, but the door had been blocked off. The building was a trap. The windows burst open, each shattered piece of glass creating a deadly rain of sharp shards, making every move feel like an exercise in survival. She turned, scanning for a way out, anything that could give her a second to breathe, to think.

Then, without warning, she felt the weight of someone on her. A runner, a wild, twitching figure lunged at her from the side, slamming into her with a sickening force. She shoved it off quickly, her breath ragged, her heart pounding in her chest. She was back on her feet in an instant, her knife in her hand, but as she glanced around, she realized with a sickening jolt that she was completely alone.

She heard the growl before she saw it, another infected, its hollowed eyes locked onto hers. There were more behind it, an endless line of twisted bodies stumbling over each other in their haste to get to her. The whole world seemed to shrink down to that one moment, the world narrowing to the sight of the runners charging toward her.

Julianna's hands shook, but she steadied herself. She wasn't going to let them take her. If she was going to die, it would be her choice.

She crouched low, holding her ground, every muscle in her body coiled tight as she waited for the first one to make a move. It lunged at her, jaws snapping. She sidestepped it, her knife flashing out in a quick arc, slicing through the air and catching the runner in its exposed neck. It crumpled with a wet, sickening thud, but more kept coming. There was no end to them.

She fought. She fought with everything she had, swinging the knife, at any infected that got too close. She was no fighter, not like Shauna or Taissa, but she was learning. Or trying to.

Her heart was racing, her thoughts scattered, but all she could focus on was the immediate danger, the way the infected surged toward her, relentless, never tiring. Sweat dripped down her forehead, mixing with the dirt and blood that had already begun to streak across her clothes. Her hands were slick, her grip on the knife tenuous, but she held on. The blade was her only lifeline.

A runner grabbed at her sleeve, tearing at the fabric, and in that moment, she felt the sharp pull of panic, the flood of fear and adrenaline crashing through her. But she twisted away, bringing her elbow into its face, and with a final, desperate swing, she drove the knife deep into its skull. It dropped like a sack of meat.

Julianna wasn't sure how much longer she could keep this up. The station felt like a maze of bodies and death, and every turn she took led her to more infected. She could feel her breath coming in jagged gasps, her body burning with exhaustion, but she couldn't afford to stop.

Her mind raced for a solution, anything, and then, through the haze of panic, she saw it—a doorway. The station's back exit, barely visible through her panic, but she knew if she could make it to that door, she might just get out of there.

She darted toward it, pushing through the mass of infected, dodging and weaving as she moved. Her body was bruised, scraped, and bleeding from the frenzied fight, but she didn't care. She was so close.

She reached the door just as the infected closed in behind her, her breath hitching in her chest as she pulled it open and sprinted out into the chaos of the streets, slamming it behind her, shoving a military crate in the way. But as she ran, she tripped on debris, her foot catching on a twisted piece of metal. Her body tumbled forward, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.

Julianna's vision blurred as she stumbled to her feet, the overwhelming dizziness from the mess of the station still clouding her senses. The cold, sharp bite of the air outside the police station only seemed to make it worse. Her heart was racing, her chest tight from the effort of running, but her mind was desperate to find the others. They had to be out here somewhere.

She quickly scanned the desolate streets, eyes darting for any sign of Taissa, Shauna, or anyone else. The world around her felt strangely silent despite the distant growls and moans of the infected. The steady rhythm of her breath, the pounding of her heart in her ears, were the only things she could focus on.

And then—there it was. A shout. It sounded like Taissa. Maybe Shauna too. A desperate cry for help.

"Taissa! Shauna!" Julianna called, her voice hoarse, though she couldn't even hear herself over the pounding in her head. She pushed forward, stumbling slightly as her body seemed to rebel against her, but the cries for help spurred her on. She rounded the corner, breath ragged, only to freeze in place at what she saw.

Infected. A whole group of them, their sickly, contorted bodies standing at the mouth of an alleyway. And at the center of it—one of them mimicking the voices of Taissa and Shauna.

The realization hit her like a gut punch. It wasn't possible.

What the fuck?

Her heart stopped for a split second, and in that instant, everything went wrong. She managed to fight the majority off, but the last.

The creature—its mouth half-open, wearing a disturbingly human-like expression—lunged at her before she could react. Its rotting hands grabbed at her, its teeth snapping dangerously close to her throat, and in a panicked attempt to fight it off, Julianna swung her knife.

But it was too fast.

Its teeth sunk deep into her arm, and she screamed, a hot rush of pain searing through her like a bolt of lightning. She could feel the sharp edges of its teeth digging into her flesh, the blood instantly pouring from the wound. Her vision swam as the shock of it all left her gasping for air.

The infected released her arm for a brief moment, but she didn't hesitate. Her hand was already at her side, and the knife was in her grasp again. With all the force she could muster, she shoved the blade into its head, stabbing it until it went limp in her arms. She let the body fall to the ground with a wet thud, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her body shook from the trauma.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit," she mumbled incoherently, staring down at her arm. The pain was overwhelming, and for a moment, she just stood there, frozen, trying to process what had just happened. The realization sank in like a weight at the bottom of her stomach. She'd been bitten.

Her whole body felt like it was vibrating from the adrenaline, the sharp, biting sting of the wound making her heart pound faster. She fell to her knees, but there was no time to think. She had to stay alive to make sure the others were okay.

Julianna scrambled to open her bag, her hands shaking violently as she fumbled with the straps. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, a constant drum that drowned out everything else. The bag was full of weapons, and a small first aid kit had been packed for her. She grabbed it, hands frantic as she dug to the bottom of the rucksack, fingers trembling as they touched the bandages.

She could feel the blood dripping from her arm, the warmth spreading down her wrist, but she couldn't let herself think about that. She had to stop the profuse bleeding.

With shaky hands, she unraveled the bandages, her thoughts rushing by like a blur. Misty had shown her how to do this a few days ago—how to wrap it tight to keep the blood from flowing, how to tie it off before it got worse.

The minutes felt like hours. Her arm throbbed painfully, each breath feeling like it took everything she had. But finally, with one last knot, the bandages were secured, the tightness almost unbearable around her arm. She could feel the pressure, but it was better than the alternative.

Her mind was reeling. What now?

She stood up, dizziness making her head spin for a moment. She slung the bag over her shoulder, her legs feeling like jelly as she pushed through the gate, out into the empty street. She could feel the weight of everything on her shoulders—the fear of being alone, the pain in her arm, the uncertainty of what was to come—but she didn't have time for any of it.

Her vision blurred once more as she stumbled, but she didn't stop. She had to make sure they were okay. Because the only thing that mattered now was them surviving—no matter the cost.

Julianna's feet slammed against the pavement as she sprinted through the empty streets, her breath coming in sharp, painful bursts. Each step sent a jolt of agony through her, her body screaming in protest. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop.

Her arm felt like it was on fire, the bandages tight and soaked through with blood, but that pain was nothing compared to the one gnawing at her mind. Her vision was swimming, her thoughts spiraling into a haze of panic. Every breath felt like it might be her last. The wound—the bite—was a countdown.

In 12 hours, she would be like them.

A hollow shell, mindless and rotting.

She knew what it meant. She had seen the others fall to it, watched them lose themselves to the sickness. She was next.

The fear of it was unbearable, but it was the last thing she let herself feel. As much as she wanted to collapse in the middle of the street, to curl into herself and just... let go, she couldn't. She had to find them.

Her mind screamed at her to stop. To sit down, put the gun to her head, and end it now. The thought was so tempting, it took everything she had to push it down, to swallow the fear and pain. She wasn't going to die like that. She couldn't be that selfish, not after everything they'd been through.

She stumbled, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her, but she forced herself to keep running. Her lungs were on fire, but she kept calling out their names. "Natalie! Shauna!" Her voice cracked, and the sound echoed back at her, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the abandoned town. It was like her words were swallowed by the emptiness, the distance between them growing wider with each passing second.

Why? Why did it have to happen this way? She wanted to scream, to let everything out, but she held it in.

She could feel the hot sting of tears at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't deserve to cry, not when so many others were already lost. She'd seen the horror in their eyes as they died. She didn't want to be another person who gave up, didn't want to see it happen to anyone else.

Every time she called their names, a part of her wondered if they were still alive. They had to be. They couldn't have gone through all of this just to be picked off by the infected that quick.

The streets stretched on, each building looming over her like a ghost from a forgotten time. Her eyes flickered to the shadows in the alleys, her pulse quickening with the fear of being ambushed by more infected, maybe this time they'd tear her apart. But even as she looked around, there was nothing. Just the wind whispering through the broken windows and the soft rustle of paper and debris at her feet.

She wasn't thinking clearly. She knew that. But she was on borrowed time.

Julianna's heart was hammering in her chest, and her legs burned with the effort of running. She barely noticed the blood still seeping from her arm, her focus solely on the figure ahead of her. Natalie. It was Natalie—fighting for her life just like Julianna was, a crowd of them surrounding her.