Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend-Chapter 94: Monster

The engine turned over with a sharp growl as Aubrey twisted the key. The dashboard flickered to life.

In the backseat sat a week’s worth of supplies—canned food stacked in a crate, medical kits stuffed tight with gauze and antibiotics, two rifles laid carefully over a duffel bag filled with ammunition.

She was not bluffing. She was leaving.

She shifted into reverse and the car rolled back slowly. That was when she saw Isabella standing a few yards away, watching her.

Aubrey stopped the car.

Her brows pulled together. "The hell does she want...?" she muttered.

Isabella started walking toward her.

Aubrey let her head fall back against the seat in frustration. Of course she was coming over.

Knock.

Aubrey looked at her through the glass.

Knock.

She rolled the window down halfway. "What?"

"The new rule is that vehicles and guns need to be checked out before runs," Isabella said calmly, almost as a-matter-of-factly

"I did," Aubrey replied, her voice tight.

Isabella’s eyes shifted to the backseat. The rifles. The ammo. There was no checkout tag attached.

Silence stretched between them.

"Look," Aubrey said, gripping the steering wheel. "What do you want?"

"My father’s sick. He needs medical supplies. I want to come with you."

Aubrey stared at her for a moment.

She was serious too.

"No. I’m not doing a supply run. I don’t have time to babysit—"

"I’ll help you look for Adrian," Isabella cut in. "We find him first. Then we look for what I need. I don’t have much time." Her voice softened.

"It’s my father, Aubrey. Please."

For a second, the only sound was the engine trilling.

Aubrey looked past her, scanning the compound to see who might be watching. A couple people lingered near the gate, but no one seemed to care.

She looked back at Isabella. There was no arrogance in her face. Only fear.

Aubrey exhaled sharply and jerked her head toward the passenger side.

"Get in. And don’t slow me down."

Isabella didn’t waste a second.

—

I pressed my shoulder harder into the door as it shook in its frame. Each slam rattled through my bones. The wood was already splintering near the hinges, cracks spreading wider with every hit.

They would not stop.

Behind me, Lila sat slumped against the wall near a stack of mops and cleaning buckets. One hand pressed against her gunshot wound. Blood soaked through the fabric between her fingers. Her face was pale, jaw clenched as she tried not to cry out.

My gun clicked uselessly when I checked it.

Empty.

A tight pressure built behind my eyes. I blinked hard, but it didn’t help.

Was this it? Was this where it ended?

The door bowed inward with a loud crack. A hand suddenly burst through the wood, fingers clawing blindly through the hole. The skin was torn and dirty, nails broken, reaching only inches from my face.

I jerked back slightly.

On the other side, a woman laughed. The sound was warped and eager.

"You know what I’m gonna do once I get my hands on you, pretty boy?"

Her arm flailed through the gap, scraping against the splintered edges.

"Oh, I’m going to peel your skin off slow, layer by layer, and wear it like a dress. Then I’ll spread your legs and bite your pretty cock clean off, swallow it down while you bleed out."

Even through the amber, even with whatever twisted clarity it gave them, infected were still infected. I had not faced them this close in a while.

I had almost forgotten how they talked. How certain they sounded. How real their threats felt.

Because I knew they meant every word.

Her voice dropped lower, sick with anticipation.

"I’ll take my time with you. I’ll make you scream."

My heart pounded so hard it made my vision pulse.

Behind me, Lila let out a weak breath.

The hand pushed further through the door, forcing the wood to split wider.

"Then when after allll that’s done," she continued, giggling. "I’m gonna fuck—"

Something inside me hardened.

Before she could say another word, I grabbed her wrist.

She tried to yank back, but I held on and pulled with everything I had. The weakened door gave way as I dragged her forward. Her upper body tumbled through the broken frame and hit the floor at my feet.

She looked up at me, eyes glowing molten orange, mouth twisted in a grin.

I did not hesitate.

My fingers drove straight into her eyes. I pushed until the glow vanished and her scream turned into a wet, choking sound. She thrashed, but I kept pressure until she went limp.

I grabbed her arm and twisted it sharply. Bone snapped.

The hallway outside filled with more movement, more voices, but for a second everything felt quiet in my head.

You do not get to make me afraid.

If they wanted something monstrous, I could give it to them.

I rose to my feet, my breath heavy as I stepped toward the broken doorway, ready to show the rest of them exactly what I was willing to become.

It all seemed...too familiar.

The smoke in the air. The distant screams. The sound of my own breathing drowning everything else out.

Only last time, Lila had been the one dragging me through the carnage. She had been the steady one. The fearless one. I had followed her without thinking.

Now it was me leading.

And it did not feel safe.

Not to me.

But if I did not believe I could get us out, then who would?

We burst out of the apartment building and into the open street. I kept us moving fast, cutting away from the main road where clusters of orange eyes flickered in the distance.

We stayed in the shadows, sticking to side paths and broken fences, putting as much space as we could between us and anything glowing.

We were on foot. That made everything worse.

Lila leaned heavily against me, her steps uneven. Every few seconds she stumbled, and I had to tighten my grip around her waist to keep her upright.

"Just a little farther," I muttered, though I had no idea where we were going.

We ducked into an alley between two crumbling buildings. Trash bags were torn open along the walls, the smell mixing with dried blood and smoke.

After a few more steps, her legs gave out.

She fell hard to her knees, then to her side, groaning as her hand clutched the wound in her abdomen.

"Lila."

I knelt beside her quickly and moved her hand away to see it.

The blood had turned tacky around the edges, dark and sticky. The staples I had forced into her skin were barely holding the torn flesh together. The area around the wound looked grimy, angry, like it was already trying to rot.

My chest tightened.

This was not holding.

I looked up at her face. She was pale, lips losing color, eyes half-lidded but still fighting to stay open.

She grabbed my hand.

Her grip was weak, but it was there.

"We’re going to get through this," I said, even though fear pressed against my ribs. "We’re going to find medical supplies. Real ones. You hear me?"

She gave the smallest nod.

I slid my arm under her shoulders and helped her back to her feet. She leaned into me again, almost all her weight resting on my side.

We stumbled deeper down the alley, step by step.

Every sound made me look up. Every shadow made my heart jump.

But I kept moving.

Because last time she carried me.

And I was not letting her fall now.

—

"Where is he?"

Aubrey’s voice was low, sharp. She gripped the collar of the infected, amber coursing through his veins like poison. The millitary base was silent except for their footsteps over broken concrete.

They had rounded up what they could, remnants of soldiers and infected alike, anything to get a lead.

The infected man in her grasp laughed quietly, like he knew a secret joke he wouldn’t share.

"Where. The hell. Is he, you fucking freak?" Aubrey barked, flinging him to the floor.

He rubbed at his neck. "Why don’t you just kill me if you don’t plan on being any more specific??"

Anger flared hot in Aubrey’s chest. She raised her gun, aiming straight at him. Her hands shook, though she tried to hide it.

Isabella stepped forward, hand firm on her shoulder. Aubrey’s eyes shot to her, confusion flickering.

"About this tall. Tan. Brunette hair. Easy on the eyes," Isabella said, gesturing.

Aubrey’s glare sharpened.

"Watch your fucking mouth. That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about."

"I’m just giving the relevant info," Isabella replied, not backing down.

The infected man snorted, eyes flicking between them. "Oh, him? He’s long gone by now."

Aubrey’s fists tightened.

"Most likely dead by my estimate."

"You know where he is, then??? Tell us!"

The man’s smirk stretched wider. "Amber society."

Aubrey blinked, disbelief burning through her. "What?"

"Chicago," he said, almost lazily, as if the words were a joke. "But we call it amber society now."

The weight of going back hit her like a punch. Chicago. Her hometown. The place where everything had begun—and everything had gone wrong.

He was there.

Her hands trembled slightly, but she didn’t lower the gun. Isabella’s grip on her shoulder was steady.

"He’ll be alive," Isabella said quietly.

"That’s where we’ll find him. So let’s go."

Before everything was too late.