But Xenia moved first.
Barefoot, robe flapping like a tattered cape, her eyes locked with something primal and furious, she screamed. Not the helpless kind. The kind that said: I am done being dragged around by this apocalypse. Done waiting for someone else to fix it. Done watching people die.
It was raw. Loud. Defiant.
Both of them swung their weapons in sync.
Rafe's katana slashed clean through the air.
Xenia's wooden bat....now cracked from swinging it repeatedly...onnected with the zombie girl's skull with a sickening CRACK, a sound so sharp and final it echoed through the tile-walled bathroom like a starter pistol.
The infected woman slammed against the sink, her head snapping sideways, mouth still frozen mid-snarl.
She slumped.
But then, with a spasming twitch, she started to rise again.
Xenia didn't even pause.
Another swing. Then another. Thwack. Crack. Crack.
By the third hit, Rafe stepped back, eyebrows slightly raised, like he was watching the world's most intense batting cage session.
Blood splattered across the mirror. Tooth fragments pinged against the sink.
At last, the zombie collapsed onto the tile and stayed there. No more twitching. No more snarling. Just awful, sticky silence... the kind where your heartbeat feels like a drumline in your skull.
Xenia hovered above it, gasping, chest heaving like she'd just run a marathon. Her hands were clenched so tight around the bat, her knuckles had gone bone white.
And then—
SNAP!
The bat split down the middle, a jagged crack slicing through its length like a lightning bolt.
"NO!" Rafe gasped.
Xenia blinked. "What...?"
She looked down at the weapon in her hands. Now two splintered chunks of wood, each barely hanging on.
Rafe fell to one knee like someone had just told him his dog had died. Again.
He picked up half the bat with both hands, cradling it like it was made of gold. Or ancient scrolls. Or both.
"That… that was a Hitoshi Sato original," he said quietly. Reverent. Broken.
Xenia frowned. "Who?"
Rafe blinked at her like she'd just kicked a puppy.
"My grandfather trained under Hitoshi himself. The man was a legend... martial artist, carpenter, athlete, philosopher. This bat? Hand-carved. Signed. Smelled faintly of cedar and destiny. There are only three like it in the world."
Xenia glanced down. "Well… now there are two."
Rafe didn't respond. He just stared at the wood like it had personally betrayed him.
Rafaela slowly peeked her head out, still pale, eyes wide as saucers. Her long, straight black hair... still pristine despite the chaos... framed a face that could've been sculpted by the same gods who carved her brother. Except where Rafe was all brooding heat and sharp lines, Rafaela had soft, fair skin and calm doe eyes, like a Greek goddess caught in the middle of a horror movie.
She looked from Rafe to Xenia. Then down at the bat.
Xenia lifted her broken half. "I call it 'survival.' You're welcome."
Rafe exhaled a slow, tortured breath, stood up, and muttered, "You better survive this whole damn apocalypse, Alderidge. That's all I'm saying."
Xenia gave a tiny, proud shrug... half apology, half 'I'd do it again.'
And from the cracked mirror, her reflection looked just as surprised as she felt.
Café Nero's window looked like it had seen way too much action. Outside, a crowd of the undead shuffled in jerky half-steps, robes ripped to hell, flapping like cursed laundry. Blood was smeared across the glass, greasy and dull, like paint done by a toddler possessed. One of the infected thumped a palm against the glass... slow, rhythmic, like it wasn't quite sure how to knock.
Rafaela gulped, her hands trembling. "I thought... I thought it was just the bathroom. That maybe I got the weird one... But there's... there's so many of them."
"Yeah," Xenia muttered, flicking a runaway strand of hair out of her face. "Honestly, I kinda hoped I was dreaming. But nope... turns out the universe decided to serve me a dumpster fire of a day instead."
Rafe gripped the hilt of his katana tighter. "I'll distract them. Aldridge, take Rafaela and get out the back. I'll loop around and meet you."
Xenia narrowed her eyes. "Ooops... hold on. You're not doing the whole heroic self-sacrificing thing, right?"
Rafaela whipped toward him. "Yeah, stop rushing into death, brother. Let's think first before you go full Marvel mode."
Rafe glared. "I'm not going 'Marvel mode,' I'm trying to keep you alive."
"Oh, thanks, Captain Overprotective," she shot back. "You always think you're the only one with a brain when things go south."
"I am the one with training!"
"And I'm not seven anymore, Rafe! I don't need to be bubble-wrapped every time things explode!"
Xenia wedged herself between the two like a referee stuck in a family reunion. "Okay, timeout... siblings can emotionally unravel later. Right now? Zombies."
Rafaela rolled her eyes. "You two seriously want to argue during an outbreak?"
"Wouldn't be the first time I argued during a crisis," Xenia muttered. Her thoughts flashed to Zoe... one of their biggest fights was when Zoe brought a guy into their dorm.
She moved toward the espresso machine. "If we're gonna die, I'm not doing it decaffeinated."
Rafe's brow furrowed. "Wait. What are you doing?"
"Making coffee."
"Alderidge, this is not brunch... "
"Shh. I'm calibrating the frother."
Even Rafaela tilted her head. "Wait... do you actually know how to use that?"
"Top of my class," Xenia replied coolly. Her fingers danced across the buttons like she was orchestrating a caffeine opera. "I practically lived here during finals. This machine and I? We're in a long-term relationship."
Steam hissed. The machine whirred.
With practiced flair, she crafted a latte with decent foam art. Then a cappuccino. Lastly, she poured a bold black coffee.
"Latte's yours," she said, handing it to Rafaela. "Cappuccino's mine. And for you, Professor Marvel Mode... black. No cream, no sugar. Just like your soul."
He took the cup, sipped it... and gave a reluctant nod. "It's good."
"I know," Xenia said, sipping hers with all the calm of someone who hadn't just bludgeoned a zombie. "Now that our brains are awake, let's talk escape."
The three huddled behind the coffee counter, their voices tight and low.
"There's a service exit behind the kitchen," Rafe said. "If we time it right, we can use the side alley and double back to my place."
"They're crowding the front glass," Rafaela said. "What if they see us?"
"They're dumb. I'll use the espresso steam as a distraction. It's loud. We bait them left, we bolt right."
Rafaela held her latte like it was a lifeline. "Okay. Let's do this."
Xenia grinned. "Told you. Coffee solves everything."
Rafe sighed... half exasperation, half surrender. "Fine. But if this blows up... "
"Non-negotiable," Xenia said firmly. "You save your sister first."
Rafe looked at her... silent, unreadable. Then, a short, sharp nod.
Rafaela tucked in close beside Xenia. "Okay. Let's go."
Outside, zombies mashed against the glass like ghostly toddlers trying to peek inside. One forehead smeared a crimson streak. Another... dressed in half-burned robes... twitched and thrashed, head tilting too far to one side.
Xenia took one last sip of her cappuccino.
The plan was set.
Time to move.