The body still lay where it had fallen.
No one wanted to move it.
The kitchen had fallen silent once more. The sharp smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, mixing uneasily with the metallic scent of fresh blood.
Trudy rested against the kitchen table, unconscious but breathing steadily. Dinah sat beside her, one hand wrapped tightly around her sister's, refusing to let go.
Jon stood quietly near the doorway.
His eyes remained fixed on the lifeless old man lying in the living room.
Only an hour ago, he had been alive, angry at the state of his home and terrified of what might occur with his family.
It was difficult to blame anyone in this scenario. The old man was only protecting what he believed was his home, and the two ladies were only trying to protect themselves.
However, the cost was high, and unfortunately the old man paid for it with his life. Now, he was simply another body.
'I could have just left the house. Maybe then... none of this would have happened.'
Eventually, Jon spoke, "...We can't leave him here."
No one answered immediately. Dinah looked toward the body before lowering her eyes again.
"I'll help."
Jon shook his head. "You should stay with your sister."
She opened her mouth to protest before glancing toward Trudy's pale face.
She lowered her head before finally nodding. Eventually, she handed over the metallic weapon.
"Take it."
Jon and Icarus briefly glanced at each other, then accepted it.
Jon felt the weight. 'It's heavy and cold.'
Without any further words, he placed the gun into his back pocket and left with Icarus.
…
Together, they entered the living room.
Morning sunlight still filtered through the curtains, illuminating the blood staining the white tiles.
The old man's corpse looked strangely peaceful now. The anger that had twisted his features only moments before had disappeared.
He looked...tired and peaceful.
Jon crouched beside him.
"I'm sorry."
The words escaped almost instinctively. He wasn't sure whether he was apologizing for killing the professor's wife or arriving too late...or simply because someone had to.
Icarus silently disappeared into the hallway, and moments later he returned carrying a folded bedsheet from one of the bedrooms.
Neither of them spoke as they unfolded it across the floor before carefully rolling the old man onto it.
Together they wrapped the sheet around him, covering everything until only the outline of a man remained.
Icarus took the legs, and Jon lifted beneath the shoulders.
"Ready?"
"...Yeah."
Both of them grunted as they lifted.
"It's heavier than this morning," Jon muttered.
Icarus managed a humorless smile.
"Or maybe we're just tired."
They carried him slowly through the hallway.
Perhaps because earlier adrenaline had carried Jon through it. However, there was no adrenaline, only acceptance.
Halfway toward the door, Jon noticed something.
Yesterday, his hands had trembled uncontrollably when he moved the old woman away into one of the rooms, even until they had to take her corpse out of the house earlier today.
However, today...
Today they were steady.
The realization made him stop walking.
'Am I getting used to this?' The thought unsettled him far more than the corpse in his hands.
Outside, there was no infected creature around, making their journey smooth, though they didn't lay the man close to his wife.
"Separated by less than a day." Jon knelt quietly and closed the man's eyes.
"I'm sorry."
He wasn't sure anymore why he kept apologizing. Perhaps because no one else would.
"...I hope you're together again."
…
The return to the house was silent.
Jon wished his hands would shake again. Because if they didn't...
What did that say about him?
A strange heaviness settled inside his chest. He had killed yesterday because he had no choice, and today he had carried two bodies without flinching.
'I don't want this...' He clenched his fist tightly. 'I don't want to become someone who thinks this is normal.'
Icarus noticed his actions but said nothing.
'He still blames himself for what happened with the couple. It's amazing how he is still able to keep his composure after everything that has happened to him. I guess that's his trait.' Icarus briefly shifted his gaze to the sky,
'Unfortunately, if what I saw is true, then it will only get worse, not better.'
Without another word, the duo stepped inside the house and shut the door behind them. Jon and Icarus immediately pushed the sofa back against it.
Following that, they searched the entire house again. Every curtain was drawn, every window was checked, and every opening large enough to expose the inside was covered.
Only after checking the back entrance twice did they proceed to wash their hands.
Even after a few minutes, his hands still felt dirty. Beside him, Icarus washed silently as well. They didn't look at each other, but neither wanted to admit they were thinking the same thing.
This wasn't blood anymore.
It was the memory.
When everything had finally been cleaned, the four survivors gathered once more in the living room.
The only sound made was the ceiling fan that rotated overhead with its slow, rhythmic hum.
Outside...
Somewhere beyond the windows, screams echoed across the staff quarters.
However, this time no one reacted. Not anymore.
Trudy rested carefully against the arm of the sofa. Fresh bandages wrapped securely around her shoulder. She still looked pale, but the bleeding had stopped.
Beside her, Dinah sat close enough that their shoulders touched. As though letting go might somehow cause her sister to disappear.
Jon lowered himself onto the floor, his back rested against the wall, and the kitchen knife lay within arm's reach.
Across the room...
Icarus returned to his familiar place beside the window and pulled one corner of the curtain aside just enough to study the empty street beyond.
Silence settled over the room once more.