Chapter 4:Flirting with Death

Liam forced a smile, the kind of grin that could easily pass as disarming, the kind that masked the sudden rush of calculation coursing through his veins. His instincts screamed for him to be cautious, to retreat, but he knew the moment he showed fear—or recognition—he'd become a target. So, instead of backing down, he stepped forward, taking a slow, deliberate stride toward the woman.

He towered over her now, standing taller than he had moments before, his posture confident, almost predatory. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him, sharp and probing, but he maintained that smile, steady and unshaken, as if they were two strangers sharing a quiet moment in a crowded room.

Liam didn't look at her directly, but his eyes swept the room of survivors, his gaze catching the scattered, tense faces around him. He noticed their fear—fear of the apocalypse, fear of the unknown, fear of each other.

His eyes returned to her, lingering on her features, taking in the perfect curve of her lips, the way her frozen smile held too much restraint, too much grace. He let his gaze drop slowly, from the delicate arch of her brow to the soft line of her neck, before meeting her eyes again with a calculated slowness. There was something in his expression now, a dark, magnetic pull that seemed to draw the air between them taut.

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head just so, the motion subtle but enough to make the light play off his jawline with a sharp, almost predatory elegance. The silence between them stretched, thick and charged. He could feel the weight of her gaze, cutting through him like a blade, assessing him with a look that both intrigued and challenged.

He stepped closer, his shoes making the teeniest squeak that absolutely ruined the whole mysterious vibe he was going for. He tilted his head down toward her, catching the scent of something… off. Sweet, yes, but cloying—like overripe fruit left to rot in a metal can, underscored by a faint, sour tang of decay. It hit the back of his throat, sticking there like a bad memory. Still, Liam swallowed the discomfort like it was a particularly bad cough syrup, touching her cheek lightly with the back of his fingers. Her skin was cold. Not "chilly winter day" cold, but "leftover lasagna straight out of the freezer" cold, with a waxy stiffness that made his stomach twist. Did that stop him? Absolutely not. Liam was committed to the bit.

"Well, well," he murmured, channeling every rom-com lead he'd ever seen. "You didn't have to wait for me, you know. Aren't you just the picture of innocence? What if I was in here… doing something indecent?"

He threw in a little eyebrow wiggle at the end for effect, because if he was about to die, he wanted to go out as a comedic legend.

Her smile widened, way past the socially acceptable limit for smiles, her teeth flashing just a little too sharp, like a shark at a buffet. Her eyes narrowed, glinting with the kind of mischief that said, Oh, sweetie, you're so dead, but keep going—this is entertaining.

"You think I'm innocent?" she purred, tilting her head like a cat deciding whether to toy with its mouse or just eat it. Her voice was practically dripping honey, but the kind of honey you find out later was laced with arsenic. "Maybe… a little,but if anyone here is innocent it's you ." she added, her grin widening just enough to make Liam's survival instincts scream, Run, you idiot!

But Liam? Nope. He ignored every red flag like a bull at a matador convention.

"Innocent?" he said, his voice cracking like an old floorboard. He coughed, trying to smooth it over with a chuckle that was somehow both nervous and painfully overconfident. "Of course. Totally. 100%. I mean, why wouldn't I be? Look at me—innocence personified!" He gestured to himself dramatically, like he was auditioning for World's Worst Defense Attorney.

His gaze flicked to her, noting the way her expression hadn't changed. Not even a blink. That's fine. Everything's fine. "Sure, you've got that, uh… slightly sinister vibe, but that's just part of the charm, right? Like… mysterious bad girl chic? Love that. Very cool."

And then, for reasons he could only describe as brain betrayal, he threw in some finger guns. Finger guns. At a literal predator. He immediately regretted it. Great job, Liam. Now you're not just prey, you're annoying prey.

He cleared his throat again, his thoughts spiraling. Oh, she's definitely gonna eat me. I can already hear my obituary: 'Local Idiot Dies After Finger-Gunning Death Itself.'

"Ha ha," he added weakly, as if that would somehow salvage the situation. "So... we good here? Or, uh, should I start writing my will?"

Her smile didn't waver. If anything, it got bigger. How was that even physically possible? Liam wondered.

"Keep talking," she said, her voice low and syrupy. "You're amusing."

"Amusing! Ha!" Liam said, clapping his hands together like this was all a fun party game and not a situation where his life was hanging by a thread. "You know, I do my best. I aim to please. Just a humble guy with great hair and—"

"Liam," she interrupted, her sharp teeth peeking out again as she leaned in close enough for him to feel the chill radiating off her. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when I'm nervous!" he blurted out before he could stop himself. Then he froze, realizing he'd said the quiet part out loud.

Her laugh was low and melodious, but Liam swore he could hear the faint echo of doom in it. He grinned back at her like this was all part of his master plan, internally begging whatever higher power was listening to let him live just a little longer.

"Right this way!" Liam chirped, his voice an octave higher than usual as he gestured toward the dimly lit back corner of the room. He was sweating buckets, his palms clammy as he offered her his arm. She took it without hesitation, her icy grip nearly making him flinch. Cold hands, warm heart… or no heart at all… Yep, definitely no heart.

With each step, he could feel his knees buckling just a little more. The whole room seemed eerily still, except for the faint rustling of the old newspapers taped haphazardly over the windows. The yellowed pages fluttered like ghosts whispering warnings he was far too stupid to heed.

"Here we are!" he said, forcing a grin so wide it made his cheeks ache. He stopped at one of the tables, which looked like it had been scavenged from a dumpster. One of the legs was visibly shorter, causing the entire thing to tilt like it had given up on trying to be functional.

He glanced at her. She was still holding his arm, and her expression hadn't changed. Maybe she doesn't notice? he thought hopefully, and then immediately, Oh god, what if she thinks this is some sort of personal insult?

Liam cleared his throat and, before he could stop himself, said, "It's, uh, rustic! Vintage charm! The table's got character, you know?" He bent slightly and awkwardly wedged a folded napkin under the short leg, trying to even it out. It didn't work. It just made the table wobble even worse.

"Perfect," she murmured, her sharp teeth catching the faint light as she smiled, but the way she said it made it sound like she was talking about how easily she could snap his neck.

"Great! Perfect! We love that," Liam said, his voice cracking like glass under pressure. He pulled out the chair for her—because manners—and she sat down with the grace of a predator settling in for a meal.

His brain was screaming at him to leave, to run, but instead, he remained rooted to the spot, his face frozen in a grin that was starting to resemble rigor mortis. "So, uh… can I get you something? Water? Tea? Holy water?"

Her head tilted slightly, and she smiled again, wider this time. "Why don't you join me, Liam?"

Oh no. Oh no no no.

"Sure!" he said, the word tumbling out before he could stop it. "That sounds… fantastic. What could go wrong?" He pulled out the wobbly chair across from her and sat down, feeling like he'd just volunteered as tribute. The table tilted under his weight, and a small, nervous laugh escaped him. "It's got charm, right?"

Liam tried looking anywhere but her and finally he asked,"I don't think i had the pleasure of knowing your name yet?"

She reached across the table, her hand moving so smoothly it felt almost unnatural, and placed it gently over Liam's. He hadn't even realized his hands were clenched into tight fists until he felt the icy chill of her touch. It sent a jolt up his arm, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he stared at her hand, pale and impossibly delicate, like it could snap in half—and yet, somehow, it felt like she was the one holding all the power.

Her fingers softly unfurled his fist, her nails lightly grazing his skin, and for the first time all night, her gaze softened. "It's Selene," she said finally, her voice low and velvety, like a secret she was letting him in on.

"Selene," Liam repeated, almost whispering it, like tasting the name on his tongue. It came out softer than he'd intended, more intimate, and the way she looked at him—calm, steady, unblinking—made him feel like he'd just opened a door he wasn't supposed to.

He cleared his throat, breaking the moment before it became too much for his brain to handle. "Well, Selene," he said, leaning back slightly and forcing his trademark grin back into place, "I have something I need to handle real quick. You know, soldier stuff." He waved vaguely in the direction of the diner's broken window that was weirdly boarded up, where a faint groan of zombies filtered in from outside. "Gotta make sure the grunts know I'm not just sitting in here enjoying… well, this delightful ambiance."

Selene tilted her head, watching him closely. For a second, he thought she was about to call him out on his flimsy excuse.

"But," he added quickly, leaning forward just enough to soften the blow, his voice dropping into something quieter, something that felt… personal, "you should rest in the meantime. It's been a long day, hasn't it, Selene?"

Her name rolled off his tongue like a lover's whisper, and he saw it—just the tiniest flicker in her expression, a shift he couldn't quite place. Surprise? Amusement? Satisfaction? Whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by her usual shyness.

Selene's lips curled into a faint smile, but she didn't say a word. Instead, she leaned back in the booth, her hands retreating to rest on the table, as if giving him permission to go.

Liam pushed himself up, resisting the urge to glance back at her as he walked toward the door. Smooth recovery, Liam, he thought to himself. Very smooth. Except for the part where she's clearly five steps ahead of you, and you're just pretending you have any idea what's going on.

As Liam stepped toward the door, trying to appear casual despite the storm of nerves raging inside him, a sudden chime echoed in his mind—a sound he had come to despise.

DING!

[System Alert: Congratulations! You've successfully deflected a death flag! Your survival instincts have marginally improved. Pat yourself on the back, champ!]

Liam froze mid-step, his eye twitching ever so slightly. Oh, for the love of— He cursed silently, his jaw tightening as he resumed walking, each step heavier than the last. Of course, you'd pop up now. Right when I'm trying not to look like a total idiot.

[Pro Tip: Your evasive charm appears to be working! Keep it up, but don't push your luck. Remember: flirting with death isn't just a metaphor anymore.]

Flirting with death? he thought bitterly. I'm not flirting with her—I'm surviving. There's a difference!

Liam kept his face composed, his gaze fixed firmly ahead. He knew—knew—Selene was watching him. He could feel the weight of her eyes on his back, like a predator studying its prey. Turning around would be suicide, not because she'd kill him outright (he hoped), but because she'd see the panic brewing behind his forced calm, and that would ruin everything.

Don't turn around. Don't look back. Just keep walking, he chanted internally, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Meanwhile, the system cheerfully continued its unwanted commentary.

[Fun Fact: Only 3% of users survive their first encounter with a death flag! Way to beat the odds, Liam! Maybe you should play the lottery next.]

Oh, shut up, he growled in his head, glaring daggers at the air in front of him as if the system could actually see him. Where were you when I almost got my throat ripped out three towns ago, huh? No congratulatory chime then. But now that I'm awkwardly dodging a supernatural femme fatale, suddenly you're my biggest cheerleader?

The moment Selene was out of sight—though Liam swore he could still feel her icy presence lingering in the air—he moved like a man possessed. His steps were quick but silent, his body taut with the kind of urgency that only pure adrenaline and terror could produce.

He spotted the soldier leaning against the far wall of the diner, looking half-bored as he inspected his weapon. Liam didn't give him the chance to notice him approaching. He grabbed the man by the arm, yanking him into the shadowy corner with a grip so tight it could have bruised.

"Jesus Christ, Liam!" the soldier barked, startled, his weapon clattering slightly against the wall. "What the hell are you—"

"Shut up," Liam hissed, his voice trembling. He clung to the soldier's arm like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity, his eyes darting around the diner as though Selene might materialize out of thin air. His chest heaved as he finally let the mask of calm slip, revealing the raw fear that had been bubbling under the surface all night.

"They're not safe anymore," Liam blurted out, his voice low and frantic. His words tumbled over each other in a messy, panicked rush. "We're not safe anymore. None of us are. Do you get that? That… that thing in there—she's not human, man. She's not even pretending to be human. She's just… watching. Waiting."

The soldier blinked, completely thrown off by the sudden shift in Liam's demeanor. "Liam, what the hell are you talking about? Calm the fuck—"

"No, no, no, no, you calm the fuck down!" Liam interrupted, shaking the soldier's arm for emphasis. His voice dropped to a whisper, almost conspiratorial. "We need to leave. Just you and me. Screw the group. Screw the plan. Screw the diner. We grab what we can and go. Right now. Before she decides we're better off as her midnight snack."

The soldier stared at him, his jaw tightening as realization dawned. "You're serious," he said flatly, his voice laced with disbelief.

"Of course, I'm serious!" Liam snapped, his fear now spilling over into desperation. "Do I look like I'm joking? Do you think this is fun for me? I've been keeping it together all night, but she knows, man. She knows! She's just letting me sweat it out, and I'm telling you—this isn't gonna end well for anyone."

The soldier's patience snapped like a brittle twig. He wrenched his arm out of Liam's grip with a sharp tug, glaring down at him with barely-contained anger. "You're out of your goddamn mind," he growled. "Leave the group? Leave? Do you even hear yourself? What do you think happens when we're out there alone, huh? You think it's safer out there with the zombies than in here with… whatever the hell she is?"

Liam opened his mouth to respond, but the soldier cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. "You don't get to make that call. You don't get to just drag me into your little paranoid meltdown because you're scared. Newsflash, Liam: we're all scared. And you don't see me grabbing people and whispering like some lunatic in the corner."

Liam flinched at the words but didn't back down. "I'm telling you," he said, his voice quieter but no less urgent. "She's dangerous. More dangerous than anything we've faced so far. If you want to stay and play hero, fine. But when she's picking her teeth with your bones, don't say I didn't warn you."

The soldier scoffed, crossing his arms. "You're insane."

"And you're blind!" Liam snapped, his voice rising despite himself. "She's not human and I'm not going to pretend everything's fine while death is somewhere standing watching us right fucking now."

The soldier sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he forced himself to calm down. "Look," he said, his tone clipped, "there's someone—someone powerful—who can help us. I heard a broadcast on the radio. There's a safe place, a real one. It's not far from here. All we have to do is find it, just like the map says. Once we're there, the leader will take care of the rest."

Liam's expression shifted instantly, his panic replaced by a sly, almost predatory gleam in his eyes. "Wait, someone stronger than you? That's perfect. If they're that powerful, they'll protect me, right? I'll just stick close to them. Maybe they'll take me under their wing or something." He grinned, already envisioning himself latching onto this mysterious figure like a parasite. "Honestly, I'm kind of overdue for someone like that."

The soldier's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath. "You're not even listening to what I'm saying, are you? This isn't about finding someone to babysit you."

Liam ignored the sharp tone, too caught up in his fantasy. "No, you're right," he said with mock seriousness, nodding. "It's not babysitting. It's mentorship. Maybe this guy'll see my potential, teach me some combat skills, make me their right-hand man. You know, hero stuff."

The soldier stopped walking, his glare cold and unflinching. "Hero stuff? You can't even walk ten minutes without complaining, and now you think you're sidekick material?" He scoffed, his disdain practically radiating off him. "You don't get it, do you? This person isn't here to hold your hand. They're not here to coddle you or make your pathetic life easier. If anything, they'd probably throw you to the wolves just to save themselves the trouble."

Liam blinked, taken aback by the venom in the soldier's voice. "Geez, who pissed in your rations?"

"You, Liam," the soldier snapped, his patience fraying. "You and your delusional, selfish attitude. You think survival is just about finding the strongest person and leeching off them? That's the kind of thinking that gets people killed. And if you even think about trying to use this guy—"

"Relax, tough guy," Liam interrupted with a shrug, though his grin faltered slightly under the soldier's glare. "I'm just saying it'd be nice to have someone competent around for a change."

The soldier's fists clenched at his sides, and for a brief, dangerous moment, he looked like he was seriously considering leaving Liam behind. "You have no idea what you're walking into," he muttered darkly, starting to march ahead again. "But fine. Keep thinking this leader's some knight in shining armor. Just don't come crying to me when they show you what 'competent' really looks like."

Liam hesitated, his usual bravado wavering. For the first time, he wondered if the soldier's anger wasn't just frustration—but fear.

The soldier's patience finally snapped. With a rough shove, he pushed Liam aside, causing him to stumble. "Get a life, Liam," the soldier growled, his voice laced with disdain. "You think this is some kind of game? You don't listen, you don't think, and people could end up dead because of you.."

Liam huffed in annoyance, straightening himself. His chest burned with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "I just—" he started, but the soldier cut him off with a sharp glare.

"Save it," the soldier spat, pointing a finger at him. "If you want to survive, stop thinking about yourself for once and grow up." With that, the soldier stormed off, leaving Liam standing there, seething.

Liam clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over. He couldn't let it end like this. "System," he hissed under his breath, "is there any way I can get a copy of that map?"

The system's response was immediate and cold. "Negative. You must acquire it yourself."

"Useless," Liam muttered, his annoyance deepening. He raked a hand through his hair, his mind racing for a solution. As he looked around, muttering to himself, his eyes suddenly caught a movement in the corner of the room.

His breath hitched. Selene was there, standing half-hidden in the shadows near the door. Her limbs looked unnaturally long now, her posture twisted and inhuman. Her hair hung limp and waxy, and her bloodshot eyes gleamed with an eerie, dark hunger.

A chill ran down Liam's spine as she smiled at him, her teeth sharp and glinting in the dim light. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt rooted to the spot, fear locking his body in place.

Behind him, a sound broke the silence—a faint, raspy voice. The old man. "Act natural. Smile," the old man's voice rasped. "She's watching."

Terror gripping him, Liam forced a shaky smile, his lips trembling as he tried to hold it. Selene's smile widened in response, and, after a tense moment, she crouched down where she stood, her gaze never leaving Liam.

As soon as she lowered herself, Liam's body unfroze, and he stumbled backward, his heart racing. He had no idea how much longer he could keep this up.