Raven stepped over the three dead bodies, their skulls blew open by three merciless head shots. With ease, she bent down to collect their rifles, slipping them into her system space without slowing her pace. The thick fog poison continued to cling to her feet. Her drone stationed outside the double gray doors no longer fired at the raiders. The silence meant the Raiders were dead or dying.
Each step through the fog revealed more bodies, collapsed and convulsing, some with eyes open and bloodied. Others with purple faces from choking to death. Raven didn’t flinch. She moved like a phantom, raising her HK416D again and again. One shot to the head. Another. Then another. No hesitation, no remorse. The zombie virus requires an intact brain to activate. Scramble them, and these bodies are just food for other zombies. Even evolved zombies have to start with an intact brain. It is not science it's just the rule. And Raven never took chances.
She fired ten more shots before the end. The last two were women. That didn’t give her pause either. Women could be worse than men in this world. These two had blood under their fingernails, their faces clean but their eyes were mean.
They are either seductresses or manipulators, the kind who survive by taking and twisting the minds of others with sweet words, who used beauty like a blade. Raven pulled the trigger, and their heads exploded open lifeless like the men. Just another statistic. Beauty is dangerous in this world deadlier than any gun, sharper than any knife. Just look at her.
She's killed dozens already in this life, maybe more. That is not a confession of guilt. That is pride in a hobby done well. She has little trophy cabinet of confirmed kills inside her memory. Some people had hope, others had regrets. Raven has her kill count and maybe a few souvenirs as well.
When she reached the last Raider, a man who clawed his way through the fog only to fall on his knees in a dying pose like a loser, she didn’t wait. She shot him in the head too. Then, after a final sweep, she passed through the rest of the back room, ensuring no survivors. A single bullet cut off any loose ends.
Thirty-eight dead Red Blood Raiders. That was her kill count. She considered this a good day’s work.
She rummaged through the looted shelves and crates, pulling out whatever was still useful—ammo, food, duct tape, whatever hadn’t been ruined by blood or poison. All of it went into the system space. Her helmet filtered out the smell, but she smelled traces of old rot from the back room.
Finally, with everything cleared, Raven pushed through the gray double doors, stepping into the relative quiet of the store’s front end. Her drone hovered silently, awaiting its next command.
She looked towards the cage.
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