BETRAYAL

The plastic grocery bag slipped from my cold fingers, hitting the floorboards of the abandoned suburban home with a soft thud. A jar of preserved peaches rolled out, coming to a rest beside a pair of discarded shoes. But I didn't care about the food. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My eyes were locked onto the couch across the dimly lit living room.

Ethan Hayes was kissing Clara Brooks.

His hand was pinned in her hair, pulling her close, while her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. They were so lost in each other that neither of them noticed the sound of the front door closing or the jar rolling across the floor.

Five years of surviving the apocalypse together—five years of starving, running, fighting off undead monstrosities, and bleeding for each other—and this was what I came home to.

"Ethan?" My voice came out as a raspy, broken whisper.

They broke apart instantly. Clara gasped, pulling her shirt down, but there was no panic in her eyes. Only a cold, calculating spark. Ethan didn't look guilty either. He straightened his jacket, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stared at me with an expression that looked more like annoyance than remorse.

"Ivy," Ethan said, his voice flat. "You're back early."

"What is this?" Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I forced myself to stay standing. My body was completely exhausted; I had just spent six hours clearing out a infected pharmacy three miles away, taking hits from low-level zombies just to get antibiotics for the base. "Ethan, what are you doing with Clara?"

Clara let out a soft, mocking chuckle and slid off the couch, stepping up beside Ethan. She reached out, looping her arm comfortably through his.

"Oh, Ivy, don't be so dramatic," Clara said, her voice dripping with fake pity. "Did you really think Ethan loved you? Look at you. You're covered in grime, your hair is a mess, and you smell like rotting flesh. You're a pack mule, Ivy. A tool."

"Shut up, Clara!" I yelled, stepping forward, but my legs buckled from exhaustion. I caught myself on the edge of a wooden table. "Ethan, tell her she's lying. Tell me what's going on!"

Ethan sighed, adjusting his collar. He looked at me not as his girlfriend of five years, but as a minor inconvenience he was tired of dealing with.

"She's not lying, Ivy," Ethan said coldly. "Clara and I have been together for months. Honestly, I only kept you around because your Speed Superpower was useful for running supply errands. But the base is established now. We have walls. We have guards. We don't need a scavenger anymore. What we need is a proper leader, and a high-tier Healer by my side."

"A tool?" I laughed, a bitter, broken sound that hurt my throat. "I bled for you, Ethan! I gave you half my rations! I used every resource I ever found to help you level up your Thunder and Fire abilities! You would have died in the first month if I hadn't dragged your pathetic body out of the city!"

"And you've been throwing that in my face ever since," Ethan snapped, his eyes hardening. "I'm sick of feeling indebted to you. I'm sick of everyone looking at you like you're the backbone of this group. The position of base leader should be mine."

Footsteps sounded from the hallway, and four more people stepped into the room: Damon, Simon, Shannon, and my own cousin, Jude.

I looked at them, my chest heaving, desperately searching for a single ally. "Jude... Damon... help me out here. Tell me this is a sick joke."

Damon smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Sorry, Ivy. Ethan's right. You broke my legs last year just because I had a little fun with some women in the lower tier. Clara healed me, but I never forgot that insult."

"My daughter didn't have to die back then!" Shannon sobbed suddenly, pointing a trembling finger at me. "You stopped me from saving her! Just because she had no Superpower and was a burden!"

"She was already infected, Shannon!" I yelled back, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. "She was turning!"

"It doesn't matter," Simon murmured, pushing his glasses up his nose and avoiding my eyes. "The base needs a qualified manager now. You're too unpredictable, Ivy."

I turned my desperate eyes to my cousin. "Jude... we're family. I raised you after the acid rain started."

Jude looked down at me with pure disdain. "Whether you live or die doesn't matter to me, Ivy. I'm the strongest Gold Element user in the base now. With you out of the picture, Brother Ethan promised me the top resource allocation."

Every single one of them had turned on me. The people I had fed, protected, and called my family had pooled their hatred together, waiting for the moment I was too tired to fight back.

"Did you know?" Clara sneered, leaning her head on Ethan's shoulder. "Someone offered a massive bounty of Crystal Cores for your head weeks ago. Ethan kept refusing only because you were still bringing in food. But today? Today you've outlived your usefulness."

Before I could react, Ethan raised his hand. A crackle of red lightning flared across his palm, followed by a sudden burst of flame.

"Thank you for everything, Ivy," Ethan said softly. "Now, die."

He hurled the dual-element spell straight at my chest.

The blast hit me with the force of a speeding truck. Pain exploded through my body as the fire scorched my skin and the lightning shattered my ribs. I crashed through the rotten wall of the house, tumbling out into the muddy, rain-slicked dirt of the wilderness.

I coughed up a lungful of blood, struggling to crawl away, but my limbs wouldn't obey.

Inside the house, I could hear Clara's sweet, melodic laugh. "Is she dead, Ethan?"

"If she isn't, the wandering horde nearby will finish her off in two minutes," Ethan replied callously. "Let's go back to the base. We have a celebration to plan."

I lay in the mud, listening to their footsteps fade away. The cold rain washed the blood from my face, but it couldn't cool the roaring, white-hot fury consuming my soul.

I had given them everything. I had starved for them. And they left me in the dirt like garbage.

A low, guttural growl echoed from the shadows of the surrounding trees. Dozens of pale, milky eyes lit up in the darkness. The undead were closing in, drawn by the smell of my fresh blood.

"If I get another chance..." I wheezed, blood pouring from my lips as a zombie lunged forward, its yellowed teeth snapping inches from my neck. "I'll drag every single one of you to hell..."

Pain ripped through my neck as teeth sank into my flesh, and then everything went pitch black.

...

“Aaargh!”

I gasped violently, my eyes flying open as I sat bolt upright. My hands instantly flew to my neck and my chest, searching for the gaping puncture wounds, the charred flesh, and the broken ribs.

Nothing.

My skin was smooth. My throat was intact. My heart was pounding like a sledgehammer against my ribs, but there was no pain.

I blinked, taking in my surroundings, and froze.

I wasn’t in the muddy wilderness. I wasn’t surrounded by the reek of decay and blood.

I was sitting on a narrow dorm bed. The faint scent of laundry detergent and citrus air freshener hung in the air. Sunlight streamed through a clean glass window, illuminating posters on the wall and a desk piled neatly with textbooks.

My heart practically stopped. I knew this room. I had spent four years here before the world turned to ashes.

Opposite my bed, on the top bunk across the room, Chloe, my roommate, stirred, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. She looked young, her face free of the scars and harsh lines of five years of apocalyptic survival.

“Ivy?” Chloe grumbled, her voice sleepy and completely normal. “What are you screaming for? You scared me.”

I stared at her.

For several seconds, I couldn’t even remember how to speak. My eyes moved over her face, taking in her smooth skin, her bright eyes, and the familiar little frown between her brows.

She was alive. Chloe was alive.

I had watched her die. I had seen the blood running down her face, heard her desperate screams, and watched helplessly as the monsters dragged her away.

Yet here she was, sitting on her bed and glaring at me because I’d interrupted her sleep.

“Chloe?” I whispered.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her sleepy expression slowly changing to concern. “Ivy, are you okay?”

I scrambled off my bed and stumbled toward her.

“Chloe!”

Before she could react, I grabbed her arms and stared at her as if I needed to confirm she was real.

She yelped. “Hey! What’s gotten into you? You’re hurting me!”

“You’re alive,” I whispered.

She stared at me. “Obviously? Ivy, are you feeling okay? Did you have a nightmare or something?”

A nightmare.

The word struck me so hard that I almost staggered.

I could still remember the smell of burning flesh. I could still feel the sharp teeth sinking into my neck, the unbearable pain tearing through my body, and the warmth of my blood soaking the ground beneath me.

I remembered begging for help. I remembered the faces of the people I had trusted. Most of all, I remembered the look in their eyes as they abandoned me to die.

“No,” I breathed, shaking my head. “No, it wasn’t a nightmare.”

My fingers tightened around Chloe’s arms as the memories of my death flooded my mind. I had died. I was certain of it. I could still remember the pain, the betrayal, and my final desperate struggle to survive.

But if I was dead, why was I here? And if I had somehow returned to the past, why did everything feel so real?

My gaze swept across the familiar dorm room before settling on Chloe’s face again.

One terrifying possibility crept into my mind.

Am… Am I reborn?