The van's once sturdy structure was crumpled and distorted. Its roof caved in, almost touching the seats inside, as if a heavy force had pressed down on it. The metal frame buckled in the middle and the sides are severely dented, with sections of the van's body caved inward. Most of the windows had shattered leaving jagged glass fragments scattered around. 

Shards of its windshield cling into the frame, while the hood is twisted, exposing parts of the engine. Its doors hang loosely from their hinges, one barely attached and leaning outward, while the other is stuck in a half-open position, its metal frame warped. Debris is strewn across the ground—fragments of glass, metal, and boxes of abandoned provisions. 

"What god-awful driver did this to the poor beast?" Roger slides his hat back on his balding head. Roger stood six feet, his haughty beard framing his broad shoulders. 

"A big mystery indeed." Jasper smiles leaning against her harpoon. "I'd like to meet 'em. Not everyone's crazy to dive a collapsing bridge during an apocalypse."

"They dead, Valentino?" Roger asks glancing once behind.

"Whoever they are, they're still alive." Valentino climbed out of the desecrated van, eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Lucky," Jasper grinned.

"Not so much, kid." Roger kicked at the ruined provisions. "Team Alpha hogged the loot."

"What I meant," Jasper said, her bright pink lips curling up, "was that we got lucky the driver's still alive, dummy. If they're wounded, we just gotta find 'em."

"Wounded?" Roger grabs his leather belt, squinting at the blood-soaked napkin Jasper holds in the air, swinging it around. "See, bright red blood. Someone's limping and not too far off. Ya can trace them, righty?"

"I was a forest ranger before this." Roger tweaks his cap, "what do you take me for?"

"Good dog." Jasper skips following him. Wrinkles darken around Roger's eyes, his hand on his pistol, "One more crack like that and I'll forget we're partners."

"You're a real grump, Roggie," she chirps, tugging at his arm.

"It's Roger," he growls.

"Sure, sure, Roggie." She grabs onto his arm, her bright eyes flickering back at their third member. "You coming, Wifey?"

Valentino clenches onto the hafts on his belt, glaring at the wildcard skipping over the water puddles. Roger halts, his twitching as he sniffed the air. The damp, rotten stench of a nearby dustbin mixed with the lingering scent of rain filled the air. His hand slips to his pistol, slowly he studies the wide roads of the city where the breeze swept dried leaves and flyers past the wreckage. He ignores Jaspers excitement over a desecrated plushie in the gutter. 

Something felt off.

A prickle swirled along Roger's spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on ends. The damp air thickened around them, almost suffocating. His nostrils flared, he spins, aiming right for Valentino's head and fires.

The smell of gun powder wafts into his nostril and the body drops in its puddle of blood, dead.

"Warn next time," Valentino mutters, staring at the undead's body, he hadn't even seen coming

"Apologies." Roger shrugs, sliding his pistol back into his belt. "But I don't have time to babysit a housewife."

Jasper squeals with delight, rushing between the two men's glares. Roger and Valentino watched, on guard, ready to react—had she spotted something dangerous?

"Your mine!" She chimes skewering the head of an undead stuck between a pile of debris with her harpoon, the corpse drops headless. She bends down, poking at its severed head with a laugh. "Jeez, why do they die so fast? It's no fun."

"You're just plain crazy." Roger slaps his gun back. His nose winces and guides him down a dark alleyway. He aims his gun at an infected. "It's dead."

Valentino watched as Roger kneels, inspecting the body. His fingers dig into its wounds, and he sniffs the dirt surrounding it. He examines the pierced skull, the rotting brain oozing out as purple veins twisted around red, inflamed blotches.

Roger grunts. "Recent kill. Probably last night."

"Must you do that?" Valentino's nose wrinkled at the stench. Jasper kicked the corpse, making it twitch. "It's real dead," she whistles with a grin.

"We know," Valentino mutters, his temples throbbing.

"I'd say the prey's an amateur," Roger stands, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Shouldn't be hard to bring 'em down, even with an injury."

"We were ordered to bring them in alive." Valentino rubs his brow. These two are insane.

"Alive? Really?" Jasper raises her harpoon, aiming it like a spear. "Where's the fun in that? Well, no one said they couldn't be half-dead when we find 'em."

"Let's just get this over with," Valentino grumbles, stepping forward. His arm jerks, and he swings his kitchen knife with deadly precision, cleaving through the head of an approaching infected. The creature's skull split from nose to crown, its body collapsing in two parts.

Jasper let out a burst of laughter. "Look at you, Mr. Housewife, all scared and swingin' like that."

Valentino's eyes darkens. "Shut up before I give you a similar fate."

"Enough." Roger's voice was stiff. He glares upfront at an abandoned diner. "Valentino, be the watch guard."

"Good boy." Jasper blew him a kiss then follows after Roger. He blocks her path, "Wait. I'll go first."

She rolls her eyes and waves at the broken entrance, "Be my guest."

Roger steps in the broken diner, glass crackling beneath his boots. His eyes bolt from one corner to the other, the diner was a haunting tableau of disarray. Tables were overturned, the remnants of meals long abandoned lay scattered across the floor, and the scent of decay lingered in the air. The sound of an old lamp flickering sang for the dancing shadows. He could smell it.

"Something feels off," he mutters, glancing at Jasper, she exhales tapping her foot against the door frame. "You really think he came through here?" She watches him slowly approach the counter and yanks his head forth, there was nothing.

"Ugh! I can't just stand out here!" She barks suddenly, her eyes darting toward a door, eager for action.

"Jasper, wait—" Roger started, but it was too late. Before he could finish, she bashes through the swinging door into the kitchen.

"Jasper!" He pulls out his gun, but a foot kicks it out his hand. "Oh shit—"

The figure springs from the shadows kicking the kitchen door shut. Jasper crashes against the dishes, falling beside a rotting corpse. Her skin touches the cold flesh, she shivers with a churning chill. Her scream, more disgusted than terrified.

Roger darts his gaze from the swinging door to the stool where his pistol fell behind. He flinches at the attacker, she steadies her footings ready to defend herself. She was tall and muscular, with dyed pixie hair. Roger bolts for his gun, but she launches herself at him with astonishing speed. She tackles him to the ground, her weight pressing him into the filthy tiles.

"Whoa!" Roger grunts, trying to push her off, but she was surprisingly agile. "Get off me!"

Jasper runs out of the kitchen, wiping where the corpse had touched her. "Let go of my Roggie!" She lunges to help but the woman rolls, using Roger's own momentum against him. With a swift motion, she twists and kicks Jasper's legs out from under her, sending her crashing to the floor.

"What the hell?" Jasper exclaims, scrambling to regain her footing.

"Who are you?" Roger demands, wrestling beneath the woman's grip. "We're not here to hurt you!"

"Who're you?" she shoots back, her voice low and fierce, her eyes narrowing with her grip. Roger felt his blood flow cut off, his nose twitching at a familiar stench.

Roger's instincts kick in. "We've got company!"

The woman pauses, glancing toward the diner's entrance. Valentino burst through the door, confusion written all over his face. "What's going on in here?"

Color recedes from her face, the first of the horde stumbles into view—decayed figures drawn by the noise.

"Great," Valentino mutters, backing away, his knife glinting in the flickering light. "Now we really need to get out of here."

"Help me get her off me!" Roger shouts, but the woman had regained her composure, pushing herself up.

"Forget her! We need to deal with them!" Jasper yells, grasping her harpoon.

With a swift movement, the woman finally releases Roger, flipping him onto his back and crouching defensively. "Who are you people? What do you want?"

"Enough!" Valentino barks, his patience at its end. "We don't have time for this! They're coming!"

Roger, now on his feet, nods toward the approaching horde. "If we're going to survive this, we need to work together. You heard me Jasper?" He shoots a glare at her.

"I love you too, Roggie," Jasper sighs, drunk with sarcasm. With a click of his tongue he rubs his aching shoulders, fetching his gun. "Let's make this quick," Roger dusts his hat placing it one and takes charge. "Jasper, flank left. Valentino, watch our backs. And you—who're you?"

She wipes the sweat from beneath her chin. Her sapphire eyes reflecting the strangers' silent gazes.

"Yaryu." She answers.