Xander tries to open the door. It is lodged from the inside. His brows are knitted together as his hands tense around the handle. He gives it one, final strong tug towards him. There is a scream, but it doesn’t belong to neither Yuuta nor Xander.

The woman standing before them scrapes what little flesh remains on her face with her nails. She screeches and advances towards them in a manner all too mechanic and cold to resemble that of a human being’s. Bile rises in Yuuta’s throat as putrid smells of vomit, feces, and iron follow her figure.

“I can shoot right?” Yuuta’s voice is broken as his eyes dart back and forth between Xander and her. “Please tell me I can shoot,” he blurts, breathless, his sweat-clad fingers trembling around his bow as he aims for her head that is still dripping with blood.

“The fuck are you on about, Yuuta, of course you can shoot!” Xander shouts as he jumps away from the door—before he even has the time to ready himself for combat however, Yuuta’s arrow has already pierced her throat.

The woman’s head drops to the floor with a dull thud. Yuuta’s breaths are heavy. His chests heaves up and down as he stares at the thin line of skin keeping the woman’s jaw connected to her neck like a piece of bubblegum. His eyes dart back to Xander. “Is… is it over?” he huffs.

“I don’t know.” Xander bites his lip. Yuuta notices his hands are trembling. He wants to walk up to him and hold them—hold him, until they are both calm, just like when they were kids.

But there is no chance for such affections, for a low groan soon grabs both their attentions as the woman picks up her head, her brains splattering to the floor as splotches of blood splash onto the tip of Yuuta’s shoes once she starts dashing forth, toward them with her mouth wide open, revealing emptiness where a tongue should have been.

“Time for my plan!” Xander shouts as he grabs Yuuta by the wrist and drags him off and down into the bleak corridor.

“Yeah! Okay!” Yuuta says with a shudder as he tries to keep up with Xander’s hectic pace. “I just—” He takes a deep breath. “I hope there won’t be more of—”

Another scream pierces the air.

Yuuta glances backward. “Uh… Xander?” he blurts, butchering his comrade’s name as the last syllables of it turn into a faint squeak. “There’s a problem.”

“Please don’t tell me she’s running.”

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To this, Yuuta gulps, nods faintly. “She’s running…” he mutters.

“Fuck!” Xander’s frustrated cry echoes across the empty hallway, alongside both their footsteps that tap against silver in ordered and meticulous rhythms, that cover up the sound of the blood dripping behind them.

“Dude! Shut up!” Yuuta shouts. “What if the others hear you and come to her rescue?”

“Don’t—” As Xander stops himself short from another outburst, Yuuta can see his shoulders tense. “Don’t imply that there are others, please…” he mumbles between two short breaths.

As the waste dispenser finally comes into view, the woman begins waving and shouting the words, “Help me, help me, dear lord, please, help me, it hurts!”

Yuuta and Xander slow before the dispenser in order to lure her out. Xander grabs his flashlight and shines it onto her; even though he attempts to hide his fear, Yuuta can still see his Adam’s apple bob within his throat as he gulps at the sight. “Y-you don’t think she’s actually conscious, d-do you?” he asks Yuuta.

Yuuta takes another glimpse at her. To him, it’s obvious she isn’t alive anymore, for she does not move like a human would, her limbs twisted in weird ways as insects crawl out of the dents in her skin. “It’s too late, Xander,” Yuuta mutters as he gives Xander’s arm a squeeze. “And whatever made her this way could be contagious. We need to get rid of her.”

Xander lets out an empty, broken laugh. “Yeah…” he whispers as he gets into position, his head hanging low. “I figured… It’s just, since she’s asking for help, you know it’s kind of—”

Yuuta bites his lip, holding back the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes. “Listen,” he snaps as he turns back to face Xander. “I really didn’t want to say this because it’s horrible to think about, but I think it’s her muscle memory at work here, and nothing more. She’s only repeating what she said before she died. Stop hesitating, or you’re going to get us kill—”

Yuuta’s final words are stolen from him before he can finish his phrase. His eyes go wide. His lips are parted by a hiccup that escapes past his teeth as the world is pulled from under him when a cold hand slides across the skin of his ankle and tugs on his leg with a force that—he thinks—definitely isn’t human.

The woman moans, and Yuuta can feel the insects, and other things he cannot name, slithering up his leg as both his head and body hit the floor.

He tries to shake her off, but she is much stronger than he could ever hope to be. Her nails—which have been darkened by dried blood—dig into his skin. Yuuta’s already present injury pulses with an ache that makes his head spin.

“Xander,” Yuuta gasps as he tries to hold onto something, yet fails each time, due to his surroundings being covered with corrupt and slime-like fluids that belong to the creature dragging him down.

“Xander,” he echoes, wondering if his comrade’s name will be the last sound that will make it past his mouth, filled by the fear that he will be leaving Xander all alone here in this dark and sinister place even hope cannot touch.

He shuts his eyes.

It’s no use anymore, he thinks, to fight her off would be madness—for Yuuta has already lost all his strength; and his vision, it is nothing more than a faint blur that makes him dizzy and sick.

“I’m sorry, Xander…” Yuuta whimpers, his face flat against the floor, his skin whitening beneath the undead woman’s grasp. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to keep our promise.”

Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this after all, he thinks.