LAST IMMUNE: THE APOCALYPSE KING

Chapter Five: Dana and Biscuit

By the time Cole reached Dana's street, his kill count was fifteen.

He'd begun counting after the overpass and along the apartment buildings on Greer Avenue, coming across fast ones, slow and injured ones, and even one that had been a teenager in a football jersey.

Nonetheless, it was still four kills short from his first active combat in the military and Cole wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

Dana's building was a four storey walk-up on the quieter end of Greer Avenue. The building had a buzzer system nobody used because the front door lock had been broken for months and the landlord — Mr. Previtt, had never fixed it like the ceiling mold problem.

Tann had mentioned this once and Cole had filed it in his memory without knowing why but now, he understood why as he pushed the front door open and took the stairs.

He knocked twice on Dana's apartment and listened quietly for any response or movements but he didn't hear anything.

He knocked again and whispered through the door: "Dana, my name is Cole Asher. I worked with your brother, Tann."

There was a long pause before Cole heard the sound of furniture being dragged across the floor. A chain lock unlatched, before a deadbolt, another deadbolt and then keys unlocked the door.

The door cracked three inches and a face peered at him through the gap. Dana's brown eyes, identical to Tann's, scanned him and Cole lifted his empty hand in greeting, the other one still holding his steel pipe.

Dana opened the door wide and immediately closed the distance between them in two steps, wrapping her arms around Cole in a tight, warm embrace.

She held onto him for a long time, her face pressed into his shoulder, as her whole body shook with a tremor of relief.

Cole stood there, not knowing what to do. He wasn't used to being hugged very often and only managed to put one arm around her.

"I didn't think I'd see another person," she said on his shoulder. "I mean a normal person, one who was still—" She pulled back, and looked at him properly, glancing at the blood on his face, hands and jacket. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Whose blood is that?"

"Not mine." He said and she glanced around at him for another second, before stepping back to let him in.

Dana was twenty-six years old with dark curly hair that reached her waistline. She wore a tank top and ripped jeans, and had the face of someone who'd been holding herself together by sheer will for the last several hours.

Her apartment was small and smelled like fried eggs and toast and she'd moved the couch and the bookshelf against the front door.

Every window had something stacked in front of it — not completely blocked, just barricaded like the instinct of someone who understood that sight still mattered.

A dog appeared from the hallway, a medium-sized, brown and white Havanese. It came to Cole, sniffed his foot and sat beside him.

"That's Mr. Previtt's dog," Dana said. "He showed up at my door this morning scratching, so I figured—" She trailed off and Cole understood.

"Yeah," He nodded, taking in the living room and spotting the infamous ceiling mold.

"He won't leave my side." She looked at the dog. "His name is apparently Biscuit, which I personally think is an awful name for a dog."

Cole looked toward the kitchen doorway. Through it he could see the edge of the kitchen table, a knocked-over chair, and on the floor, a pair of legs that hadn't moved for some time as the skin on the ankles were pale like a Grey.

"Your roommate?" he guessed.

"Priya." Dana's voice didn't change. "She came home from her night shift at four in the morning and I didn't know she was bitten."

"She looked fine, or at least I thought she was fine, we talked for ten minutes and then—" Dana sighed as though she were reliving the moment. "I cut her throat with a kitchen knife. I didn't know what else to do."

"You did the right thing."

"Did I?" Dana glimpsed at the kitchen doorway again but quickly threw away her gaze. "Priya had a family in Chennai. Her mum called her every Sunday." She picked up Biscuit from the floor, and held the dog against her chest. "Today is Sunday."

Cole said nothing but shut the kitchen door while Dana relaxed on the couch with Biscuit on her lap, stroking the dog's fur.

She offered Cole a hot cup of noodles and while he ate, Dana asked the question Cole's been expecting from her since he entered into her apartment. "So, where's Tann?"