Chapter 24: The Russian Twins [2]

"Others?" I asked, surprised. "How many of you are there?"

"Around thirty?"

"Thirty?"

I’d been expecting maybe a handful of survivors, not a small community.

That was actually quite impressive, considering the chaos outside. Either they’d been incredibly lucky, or incredibly smart. Probably a combination of both.

"Some managed to escape early on," Alisha continued. "When things first went wrong. But most..." She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

Most had been infected. Turned into the very monsters we were all running from.

"You must have been pretty smart and lucky," I said, genuine admiration creeping into my voice. "My high school got almost no survivors."

Only Liam’s group had made it out alive besides me and Emily who gott lucky thanks to my awakening—maybe a few others who’d managed to run in those first chaotic moments, but I doubted they’d survived the massive hordes that had swept through the city like a living tsunami.

Liam’s dozen survivors wasn’t much when you considered the thousand-plus students that had filled the highschool just the morning before it happened. Laughing, complaining about tests, worried about prom dates and college applications. All of that seemed like a different universe now.

But Lexington Charter was different. Elite schools like this rarely housed more than three hundred students total. Smaller class sizes, more exclusive admission—which, ironically, might have saved lives.

"We had casualties too, but not as many as we could have," Alisha said. "Thankfully, there were a lot of absences the day the virus started spreading."

I frowned, something not sitting right about that. "Absences? Maybe they just got infected somewhere else?"

"I don’t know," Alisha shook her head slowly. "Everything was normal before that day, so I don’t think so..."

Elena uncrossed her arms and stepped closer, her earlier hostility replaced by a familiar frustration I’d been feeling myself. "It’s not normal at all, this virus. It just appeared out of nowhere. In the news, they kept saying it was some minor outbreak, nothing to worry about."

"Yeah," I agreed, feeling that same bitter confusion rise in my chest. "I remember that too."

The media coverage had been so casual, so dismissive. Health officials reassuring everyone that this was just another flu variant, maybe slightly more contagious but nothing that couldn’t be managed with standard protocols. Keep washing your hands, maybe wear a mask if you felt sick. Business as usual.

Then, within hours—not days, not weeks, but hours—the entire world had collapsed into chaos.

"In movies, maybe something like this happens overnight," I continued, voicing thoughts that had been gnawing at me since this nightmare began. "But in real life, shouldn’t we have seen it coming? Shouldn’t there have been warning signs, containment measures, something?"

The whole situation felt wrong on a fundamental level. Add in my own strange awakening, the powers I’d somehow developed, and the picture became even more disturbing.

"Did any of your parents come to get you?" I asked, suddenly remembering why we’d come to Lexington in the first place. "I mean, you’re all from wealthy families, right? Rich people usually have contingency plans for disasters."

The effect of my question was immediate and stark. Both sisters fell silent, their expressions shifting to something darker, more guarded.

Alisha’s gaze dropped to the floor, while Elena bit her lower lip hard enough that I worried she might draw blood.

"No one came?" I asked, unable to hide my shock.

These were the children of the elite—senators, CEOs, celebrities, people with private jets and personal security teams. If anyone should have been rescued in the first wave of evacuations, it should have been them.

"They... they might have been caught in the initial wave of infected," Alisha said finally. "We can’t blame them for that."

"Yeah, but you’re still their kids," I pressed.

"We know that!" Elena’s voice cracked slightly, her hands clenching into fists. "But what if—"

"That’s why we’re still waiting," Alisha interrupted smoothly, shooting her sister a warning look. "At least our father was traveling when this started two days ago. We’re hoping..." She didn’t finish the sentence, but I could hear the desperate hope in her voice—hope that his absence meant safety, not infection.

Something about their accent had been nagging at me since I’d first heard them speak. Their English was perfect, but there was a subtle lilt to certain words, a particular way of shaping vowels that spoke of another language lurking beneath.

"Where are you from originally?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

"Russia," Alisha answered simply.

"Ah." That explained it. Russian oligarch family, probably. Which made their abandonment even more shocking.

"Your father," I continued, "I’m hoping he’s someone with serious resources? Like, helicopter-flying-in-to-save-the-day kind of resources?"

Elena’s expression hardened, and she gave me a look that was equal parts pity and disdain for my nerdy hope. "Even if he could do something like that, he wouldn’t take you with him."

I blinked, caught off guard by the casual cruelty of the statement. At first, I thought she was just being spiteful, getting back at me for calling her an idiot. But looking at her face, I realized she was completely serious.

"What?" I asked, needing clarification.

Alisha shot Elena another sharp look, this one clearly saying ’shut up,’ and Elena’s mouth snapped closed.

What the hell was that about?

I decided to let it slide for now and changed the subject. "You said you were with the others on the third floor, right? So how did you end up down here on the first floor instead of staying with the group?"

"We came down looking for our phones," Alisha explained, pulling out a sleek smartphone and holding it up. The screen showed the familiar ’no signal’ bars that had become the universal symbol of our isolation. "We wanted to try contacting our father."

I stared at the dead phone, then back at her face. "So you left the safety of the group to search for phones that don’t work? If your classmates’ phones were already dead, what made you think yours would be any different?"

"We thought our father might be able to reach us anyway," Alisha replied, her voice taking on a defensive edge. "He wouldn’t give up on us. He might have ways to track us through the phone, even without normal network coverage."

I had to admit, that was actually pretty smart. Rich people did tend to have access to technology and resources that the rest of us couldn’t even imagine.

"That was still risky," I pointed out.

Elena crossed her arms again, her earlier vulnerability replaced by irritation. "As if we had any other choice."

"Is your sister on her period or something?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, directed at Alisha as I watched Elena’s increasingly agitated behavior. "She seems pretty irritated."

The effect was instantaneous. Elena’s face transformed into a mask of fury, her cheeks burning crimson as if I’d slapped her. "W-what did you just say!" She sputtered, her voice climbing an octave.

Alisha cleared her throat delicately, shooting an apologetic glance in my direction.

"Please forgive my sister," she said with a weary sigh. "She’s just... on edge with everything that’s happening."

Elena straightened her shoulders, trying to salvage what remained of her dignity. "I am perfectly fine!"

"Hmm..." Alisha however turned her gaze on my injured head. Without warning, she stepped closer, close enough that I could catch the faint scent of her shampoo—something floral that seemed impossibly delicate given our circumstances.

I blinked in surprise as she raised her hand tentatively toward my head, her fingers hovering just inches from the wound Elena had inflicted. "Should I bandage it?" She asked.

"I... I would appreciate that," I managed to say, suddenly very aware of how close she was standing.

This close, I could truly appreciate just how striking she was. It wasn’t just her beauty—though that was undeniable—but something about the gentle determination in her eyes, the way she moved with quiet grace even in this nightmare scenario.

Truly an Elite Lady of an Elite Academy.

Before I could process what was happening, Elena began tearing at the fabric of her own shirt, ripping strips. The sound of tearing cloth filled the small space.

"Hey, you don’t have to—" I started awkwardly, but she cut me off with a sharp look.

As she worked, I caught glimpses of pale skin at her waist where the fabric had been torn away. Thankfully, her blazer provided enough coverage to maintain some modesty, but the gesture spoke volumes about the severity of our situation.

"Don’t move," Alisha instructed softly, her fingers now working to wrap the makeshift bandage around my head. I obediently lowered my head to make her task easier as she worked.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle, careful not to aggravate the injury as she secured the fabric. I found myself holding my breath, hyperaware of every brush of her fingers against my scalp.

"Done," she said, stepping back to examine her handiwork.

"Thank you," I said, reaching up to scratch my cheek self-consciously. The bandage felt secure, and already the throbbing in my head seemed more manageable.

Of the two sisters, Alisha was clearly the more level-headed one. Where Elena was all fire and unpredictable emotion.

When I glanced over at Elena, I noticed she had turned away, her gaze fixed intently on something outside the window. Her shoulders were tense, and she was clenching and unclenching her free hand in a nervous rhythm. The guilt was written across her posture as clearly as if she’d spoken it aloud.

Despite everything—the attack, the harsh words, the suspicion—I found myself feeling a stab of sympathy for her. She wasn’t truly malicious, just scared and overwhelmed like the rest of us and clearly she wasn’t good with words.

"W-what are you staring at?" Elena’s voice interrupted my thoughts as she caught me watching her. She gave me what she probably intended as a fierce glare, but the effect was somewhat diminished by the uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

I couldn’t help but smirk slightly. For all her bluster, she was still just a frightened student trying to make sense of an impossible situation.

"Nothing," I replied, then forced myself to focus on the task at hand. "Anyway, we need to find a way to get out of here and locate our respective groups on the third floor, right?"

Alisha nodded eagerly, seeming relieved to move the conversation toward practical matters. "Yes, that would be ideal. We’ll be stronger together, at least until we can reunite with the others."

"Alright," I agreed, shouldering my bag and reaching inside for my knife.

"A-Alya!" Elena’s voice cracked with panic as the blade came into view. She immediately grabbed Alisha’s arm, pulling her sister protectively behind her. "What are you—"

The fear in her voice was so genuine, so raw, that I almost felt guilty for carrying the weapon. Almost. But in a world where the dead walked and hunted the living, sentiment was a luxury we couldn’t afford.

I couldn’t suppress a quiet chuckle at her reaction, which only seemed to inflame her temper further.

"W...what are you smirking about?" Elena asked, brandishing the bloody chair leg like a club. "I can beat you up again if you even think about attacking us!"

The sight of that weapon sent a fresh wave of pain through my skull, and I instinctively touched the bandage Alisha had so carefully applied.

"I have no interest in harming either of you," I said, making sure to keep the knife visible but non-threatening. "I just want to find my friends and get out of here alive."

"Elena... please." Alisha sighed of exhaustion that spoke of countless similar interventions. Her gentle plea seemed to deflate her sister’s aggressive posture.

Elena’s shoulders sagged slightly. "Okay..." She mumbled, though she didn’t lower her weapon entirely.

Alisha offered a soft, grateful smile before turning her attention to our tactical situation. "I suppose we should arm ourselves properly as well," she said, looking at the remains of the chair Elena had already partially destroyed.

Moving, she positioned herself over the broken furniture and brought her foot down hard on one of the remaining legs. The wood splintered with a sharp crack, and she quickly twisted the piece free. She tested its weight with a few experimental swings, then glanced at my knife with what might have been envy.

"It’s better than nothing," she concluded pragmatically.

"Definitely better than going unarmed," I agreed, adjusting my backpack straps. "I’ll take point and handle whatever we encounter ahead. You two watch our backs and flanks."

"That arrangement works for us," Alisha replied, gripping her makeshift club with both hands. Elena moved to stand beside her sister, adopting a similar stance.

Seeing them side by side like that, I was struck once again by how remarkably similar they were. The genetic lottery had been generous to both sisters, but more than that, they moved with an almost unconscious synchronization that spoke of years spent in each other’s company. True twins in every sense of the word.

"Alright," I breathed deeply, trying to center myself for whatever lay beyond the classroom door. "Let me check the hallway first."

I approached the door with careful, measured steps, my knife held ready but not raised threateningly. The metal handle was cool under my palm as I turned it slowly, creating just enough of a gap to peer out into the corridor beyond.

The hallway stretched in both directions with Infected wandering on both sides. I waited, counting my heartbeats as I watched for movement. After what felt like an eternity, a figure shambled past our door—one of the infected, moving with that characteristic jerky, unnatural gait. I held my breath until it disappeared around the corner, then waited another full minute to be certain it was alone.

"Now," I whispered, easing the door open just wide enough for us to slip through.