Veronica tightened her grip on the blood-stained scalpel, her hand shaking slightly as she struggled to pull her messy hair back. “I’m a doctor, not some damn soldier,” she muttered under her breath, fingers fumbling to knot her hair. The cracked mirror in front of her was smeared with blood, a jagged fracture running straight through the middle. It wasn’t perfect, but it gave her a decent enough reflection to see what she was doing. Her hair was a tangled mess, but she didn’t care. No one to impress, just the need to keep it out of her face. She could deal with looking rough—survival was the priority.

Her eyes flicked to the door as the handle rattled. Her heart thudded in her chest, but it stayed locked. A soft scratching followed, like nails on metal. She let out a shaky breath. They weren’t getting in—at least not yet. Thank God they weren’t moaning. She'd heard stories about soldiers going mad from the constant groans of the infected, the noise driving them to insanity. Sure, she wasn’t facing thousands like they had, but twenty of those things were enough to make her skin crawl.

Veronica tore her gaze from the door and scanned the small, dingy bathroom. The urinal next to her confirmed she’d holed up in the men’s room. Her rifle leaned against the wall, the stock coated in blood, droplets still dripping onto the floor. Bits of brain matter clung to it. She didn’t have the energy to think about where the firepower had come from. A refugee ship shouldn’t have had this kind of weaponry, but nothing was normal anymore. What did it matter?

She turned on the faucet, cold water rushing over her hands and splashing her face. Blood mixed with water, swirling down the drain in pale red streaks. She stared at it for a moment, watching it disappear. Her hands still felt sticky, blood wedged deep under her fingernails. It would take hours to get it all off, but she didn’t have hours.

Her eyes darted around the ceiling, searching for an air duct. She could try going through the horde, but it was a bad idea, and she knew it. Even with her abilities, she wasn’t built like the others. They had speed, precision, and grace. Sure, she could probably take a few of them down, but the rest would pile on top of her, and she’d be done for. No, the only real option was to find a way out through a vent.

With a heavy sigh, she slumped against the cold metal wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor. The exhaustion hit her like a wave. How had it come to this? She let her head rest against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment.

“I should’ve ended it when I had the chance,” she muttered, voice barely above a whisper. Her body felt heavy, her muscles aching from the constant fight to stay alive. “None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t listened to my gut…

Her words trailed off as the room blurred around her, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision. The scratching at the door faded to a distant noise, and soon, everything went silent as she drifted off, unable to fight the exhaustion any longer.