Chapter 233: Clearing The Whitesun Hotel

After discussing the situation with Kunta and deciding collectively to leave the fugitive Starakian alone for now, we returned to our original plan—ensuring that the first ten floors of the Whitesun Hotel were completely safe and clear of any remaining Infected threats.

We conducted a thorough final sweep, hunting down the last few stragglers we might have missed during our initial clearing passes. Every corpse we found was systematically carried to the nearest window and thrown out, adding to the growing collection of bodies accumulating on the pavement below. As we descended floor by floor, we also performed secondary verification checks, double-checking rooms we’d already cleared, examining closets and maintenance spaces with fresh eyes, making absolutely certain nothing had been overlooked.

The process was tedious and time-consuming, but necessary. Margaret’s entire community of sixty people would be trusting that we’d done this job properly. Children would be sleeping in these rooms. Families would be living in these hallways. We couldn’t afford to miss even a single Infected that might wake up and attack someone vulnerable.

It took nearly an additional hour of concentrated effort before we finally exited the Whitesun Hotel through the main front entrance, stepping back out into the afternoon sunlight.

Looking around the immediate exterior, I immediately spotted numerous red splatter marks scattered across the pavement and concrete like some kind of grotesque modern art installation. The Infected corpses we’d thrown from various windows had impacted the ground from significant heights, crushing on contact and spreading their decayed biomass across the surfaces in disturbing patterns.

Bodies lay scattered around the hotel’s perimeter in various states of destruction, some relatively intact despite the fall, others completely pulverized into barely-recognizable masses of flesh and bone fragments. The stench was overwhelming, a concentrated miasma of decay that made breathing through your nose genuinely unpleasant.

"What beautiful art," Sydney muttered sarcastically, scanning the carnage. "Really captures the essence of post-apocalyptic urban decay. I’d say it’s worth at least three million in the contemporary gallery market."

"We’re going to need to burn all of these before the community moves in," I said. "Can’t have rotting corpses creating a health hazard right outside people’s homes. The smell alone would be unbearable, not to mention potential disease vectors."

"We can take care of that."

Turning toward the voice, I saw Brad, Kyle, and Billy standing together near one of the hotel’s side entrances. All three were armed and looked relatively fresh, clearly not having engaged in any significant combat during the hours we’d been inside clearing.

"Aren’t you guys supposed to be demonstrating your masculine courage and warrior prowess by actively killing Infected and helping to secure this area?" Sydney asked with a sarcastic smile. "You know, actually contributing to the dangerous work instead of standing around looking pretty?"

"Our objective was to maintain a defensive perimeter around the hotel where we’re all going to be living," Brad replied in defense. "We don’t trust you guys, so we stayed here to ensure nothing got past your potentially incompetency."

"It’s genuinely amazing how you three consistently manage to find conveniently cowardly excuses to stay out of actual danger every single time there’s real work to be done," Christopher said with a laugh that was only half-mocking. "The creativity and consistency is actually impressive in its own way."

Cindy couldn’t suppress a laugh at Christopher’s words,.

Brad’s glare intensified, his face flushing with anger. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, clearly about to insult.

Before the situation could deteriorate further, I decided to redirect the conversation.

"Well, since you’re here and apparently eager to contribute," I said, walking past them without slowing my stride, "gather all the corpses scattered around the hotel’s perimeter. Form them into a concentrated pile somewhere away from the building, then burn them completely. Make sure the fire gets hot enough to reduce everything to ash—we don’t want partially-burned bodies attracting scavengers or creating ongoing health problems."

"Don’t give me orders," Brad scoffed. "You’re not in charge of me or anyone else here."

"Then do whatever you want," I replied with an annoyed snort, not even bothering to look back at him. "Stand around achieving nothing while the actual workers handle the necessary tasks. I’m sure that’ll earn you tremendous respect from the community."

The others followed behind me as I walked away from Brad’s group, leaving them to decide whether their pride was worth sacrificing contribution.

"It seems Martin and his people are still actively working to clear the surrounding area," Rachel said, scanning the visible streets and buildings but not spotting Martin’s distinctive group anywhere nearby. "They must still be engaged with securing the perimeter blocks."

That made sense. As expected, Martin’s team of twenty or so fighters had scattered to systematically clear the residential and commercial structures immediately surrounding the hotel, working through apartment buildings, retail spaces, parking structures, and other potential Infected nesting sites within a several-block radius.

It was necessary work that would create a proper buffer zone around our settlement, but it was also time-consuming and dangerous. I just hoped they weren’t being overly ambitious and pushing themselves into situations they couldn’t handle safely.

"We should split up from here," I said, turning to address them. "Fan out and help the various clearing teams working in different sections. We can cover more ground and provided support if we’re not all concentrated in one location."

Everyone nodded in agreement at that.

"And just in case—be extremely careful out there," I added quietly, my voice dropping to a more serious tone. "We know already there is a Starakian here , and apparently there’s one who’s been specifically tasked with hunting me down. That same individual could very well be the person responsible for everything that happened in Jackson Township."

The reminder visibly sobered everyone’s mood but I had to put them on guards.

"You should honestly be the one being cautious, buddy," Christopher pointed out. "That Starakian probably knows by now that you’re the actual main host of Dullahan, right? Which makes you the highest-priority target. If they’ve been conducting surveillance and intelligence gathering for three months like Kunta suggested, they’ve almost certainly identified you specifically."

"Yeah, I think that’s likely," I said with a troubled expression. "Though I genuinely don’t understand why nothing significantly dangerous has happened yet. If this Starakian has been actively hunting me for months and knows my identity, why haven’t they made a move? Why allow me to continue move freely?"

The question had been bothering me since learning about the situation from Kunta.

"Please don’t raise death flags by questioning why bad things haven’t happened yet, Ryan," Sydney said quickly. "Maybe this Starakian hunter just got exhausted and accepted defeat after Wanda rejected him several times. Maybe he’s given up on the entire mission and gone home. Let’s just accept our good fortune and not tempt fate by asking too many questions."

"It is genuinely strange that this Starakian has been so relatively ’lenient’ with Wanda specifically, though," Cindy said thoughtfully, crossing her arms. "Wouldn’t it have been significantly easier and more efficient to simply kidnap her by force? Use overwhelming firepower or technology to capture her before anyone could respond? Why all the careful, patient approaches that keep failing?"

She was right to question that inconsistency.

The entity behind the attacks was clearly a ruthless monster with access to tremendous resources and zero moral restraint about causing human casualties. The destruction of Jackson Township had demonstrated complete willingness to sacrifice hundreds of innocent lives as collateral damage.

But with Wanda specifically, there’d been an unusual degree of patience and restraint. Multiple attempted contacts that could have been replaced with simple abduction. Opportunities to seize her that hadn’t been exploited.

Maybe it was because she was still genetically half-Starakian despite being raised human? Perhaps there were cultural or legal prohibitions within Starakian society about harming their own species, even half-breeds? Or maybe her father’s position granted her some measure of protection that prevented outright kidnapping?

I should probably try asking Wanda directly for more detailed information about her interactions with the Starakians.

I’d purposefully kept my distance from Wanda and left her alone since the Jackson Township disaster because I understood how she was feeling, the crushing guilt she carried deep inside for what had happened to that community, for the hundreds of deaths that had occurred because the Starakians were hunting her. And because I’d forcefully prevented her from surrendering to them, from sacrificing herself to potentially stop the attacks, I suspected she was also blaming me to some extent for those deaths.

But I genuinely didn’t mind carrying that blame if it meant keeping her alive and safe. Her resentment toward me was a price I was willing to pay.

"Well, I’m pretty sure the albino princess is hiding significant additional information that she simply won’t share with us yet," Sydney said with her characteristic bluntness. "Girl’s got secrets, and she’s keeping them locked down tight."

Rachel shot Sydney an ’are you serious’ look in response to the distinctly insensitive nickname.

Sydney just shrugged unapologetically.

"I’ll talk to Wanda myself," I said. "It needs to be me anyway. It would be awkward and probably counterproductive for anyone else to try having that conversation."

I was probably the only person who could genuinely understand the specific flavor of guilt Wanda was experiencing, having carried similar burdens myself. And I felt somewhat responsible for her current emotional state because I’d been the one who’d physically dragged her away from surrendering herself to the Starakians at that radio station. I’d made the choice to prioritize her survival over her agency, and now I had to live with the consequences of that decision, including her justified anger toward me.

"Doesn’t she already hate you quite a lot, Ryan?" Cindy asked sighing. "I’m worried that you approaching her will only make the situation worse."

"I don’t think Wanda actually hates Ryan," Rachel spoke up thoughtfully, looking at me with. "She’s feeling conflicted about how much he involves himself in her situation and concerns himself with her wellbeing despite having no obligation to do so. The intensity of his protective behavior toward her is confusing and maybe even uncomfortable because she doesn’t know how to process or respond to it."

I looked at Rachel with genuine surprise.

Was that really why she seemed so upset with me? Not because she blamed me for Jackson Township, but because she didn’t understand why I cared so much about protecting her?

"Conflicted, you say..." Sydney stroked her chin thoughtfully while scanning me with an expression that suggested she was reaching conclusions I probably wouldn’t like. "I’m getting a really bad feeling about this whole ’Wanda feeling conflicted’ thing. I think she might end up joining our little group eventually. What do you think, Cindy? Are we going to have another member?"

Join what exactly?

"Don’t drag me into your bizarre romantic fantasies, Sydney," Cindy said, looking away. "I want absolutely no part of whatever weird scenario you’re constructing in your head."

"Okay, okay," Sydney raised both hands not before grinning widely. "I won’t force you to participate in my speculation, CINDERELLA."

Did she just imitate my voice at the end?

Cindy’s entire body visibly shivered. Her face turned completely beet red with embarrassment, the blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck and presumably further beneath her clothing.

"You—!" She sputtered, whirling around to confront Sydney.

But Sydney had already vanished her enhanced speed creating a brief flash of blue sparks where she’d been standing a fraction of a second earlier.

Cindy was left standing there alone, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Well, shall we leave then?" Christopher spoke up right after that thankfully.

"Yeah, let’s split up and be careful," I nodded and so did Rachel.

Christopher smiled turning toward Cindy.

"Heard that, Cinderella? Be careful," he said jokingly.

"You idiot!" Cindy retorted before sending a kick on his butt.

"Gugh!"