Chapter 6

Evelyn's Pov 

“Evelyn, please open the door!”

Vanessa's voice shook through the entrance, followed by another desperate knock. I stood several feet away, staring at the blood smeared across her blouse.

For a woman who had spent the past three months sleeping with my husband behind my back, she looked terrified enough to forget we were enemies.

“Evelyn, I know you're there. Please, you have to help me!”

I approached the door but kept the deadbolt in place.

“What's wrong with you, Vanessa?”

She looked over her shoulder toward the street. “Something happened. Please, just let me inside. I'll explain everything.”

“Start explaining now.”

“Evelyn, I can't stand out here!”

“You seem to have plenty of energy for someone who drove to my house without telling me why.”

Her expression crumpled. “Please don't do this. I'm bleeding.”

I looked at the stain spreading across her blouse. It was dark enough to be blood, but I couldn't tell where it came from or how badly she was injured.

For one dangerous moment, my old instincts took over. I wanted to open the door, pull her inside, and find something to stop the bleeding.

Then I remembered the shelter.

I remembered Ethan's hand pressing the lock.

I remembered how quickly everyone I had protected had decided that my life was expendable.

I wasn't going to let guilt make decisions for me again.

“Where is Daniel?” I asked.

Vanessa flinched.“Please, Evelyn. Not now.”

“Your husband should know you're here.”

“He isn't answering his phone.”

“And Ethan?”

Her eyes darted toward the house.

That was answer enough. “Did you come here because Ethan told you to?” I asked.

“No!”

“Then why are you standing on my porch, covered in blood, asking me for help?”

She pressed both hands against the glass.“Because I didn't know where else to go!”

Before I could respond, a crash sounded from the street.

Vanessa screamed and stumbled away from the door.

I turned toward the window.

A man had fallen beside a parked SUV. Two people were trying to help him up, but he thrashed violently, striking one of them across the face. The injured man stumbled backward, clutching his cheek as blood ran between his fingers.

Then the man on the ground bit him.

The scream that followed made my stomach turn.

I knew that sound.

I had heard it in my previous life, in crowded hospital corridors and on streets where desperate people fought to escape the infected.

My blood ran cold.

It was happening again.

Only this time, it was September.

“Get away from him!” I shouted through the window.

The man who had been bitten staggered backward, shouting for someone to call an ambulance. The other person tried to pull the attacker away, but the infected man twisted around with unnatural speed and lunged for his throat.

A woman dropped her shopping bags and ran. Someone began screaming that the man was sick.

Then a car horn blared, followed by the sound of metal crunching against metal.

The street erupted into chaos.

I backed away from the window.

In my previous life, the first reports had appeared weeks later. By then, hospitals were already struggling to cope, and the government had begun urging people to remain calm.

But the infection had reached my neighborhood before I had even secured my supplies.

“Evelyn!” Vanessa screamed from the porch. “Open the door!”

I turned back toward her.

She was pounding against the glass, tears streaming down her face.

“Please! They're coming!”

I looked beyond her.

A man was running up the sidewalk, his clothes torn and his face covered in blood. Behind him, three figures stumbled out from between the parked cars. One fell to its knees, then scrambled upright with a speed that made my skin crawl.

The man reached Vanessa's driveway.

She screamed and threw herself against the door.

“Let me in! Oh, God, Evelyn, let me in!”

I reached for the deadbolt.

Then I stopped.

I couldn't tell whether Vanessa was injured, whether she had been bitten, or whether the blood on her blouse belonged to someone else. Opening the door without knowing could put both of us in danger.

“Step away from the entrance,” I ordered. “Show me your arms.”

She stared at me in disbelief.

“What?”

“Your arms, Vanessa. Show me your arms!”

She lifted her hands, revealing scratches along her right forearm.

My stomach tightened.

“Where did those come from?”

“I fell!”

“Did anyone bite you?”

“No!”

“Look at me and tell me the truth.”

She began crying harder.

“Evelyn, I swear I didn't get bitten. Someone attacked my car, and I fell when I tried to get away. Please, you have to believe me!”

A heavy impact shook the porch railing.

Vanessa spun around. One of the infected had reached the steps.

It slammed into the railing, its mouth opening and closing as it reached for her. Vanessa shrieked and stumbled toward the door, striking the glass with both hands.

I had seconds to decide.

I pulled the deadbolt and opened the door just wide enough to grab her wrist.

“Get inside!”

She stumbled across the threshold, and I slammed the door behind her. The infected struck the other side a moment later, rattling the frame.

Vanessa collapsed onto the floor.

I locked the door, checked the deadbolt, and dragged a small table in front of it. My hands moved automatically, following the steps I had learned through months of terror in my previous life.

“Stay away from the windows,” I ordered.

Vanessa stared at me, shaking.

“What is happening?”

“Something is wrong with those people. We need to stay away from them until we know more.”

“Those people?” she repeated hysterically. “That man tried to bite someone! He was acting like an animal!”

“I saw him.”

I grabbed a clean towel from the kitchen and tossed it toward her.

“Press that against your arm. I need to see how badly you're hurt.”

She obeyed, still crying.

I checked the scratches without touching the wound directly. They looked superficial, but I couldn't be certain what had caused them. I washed my hands, found the first-aid kit, and placed it on the table.

“I'm going to clean the scratches,” I told her. “If you feel dizzy, develop a fever, or notice anything unusual, you tell me immediately. Understand?”

She nodded rapidly.

I cleaned the wounds and covered them with sterile dressings. Then I stepped away and washed my hands again.

Vanessa watched me with wide eyes.“How do you know what to do?”

I looked at her.

“Because someone has to.”

Before she could respond, Ethan came rushing down the stairs.

“What the hell is going on?”

He stopped when he saw Vanessa sitting on the floor.

“Vanessa?”

She scrambled to her feet and threw herself into his arms.

“Ethan, I was so scared! People were attacking each other outside, and I thought I was going to die!”

He held her tightly, rubbing her back.

“It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe now.”

I stood beside the kitchen counter, watching them.

Sweetheart?