Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend-Chapter 27: City of sorrow

The radio crackled.

Static.

A sharp pop, then nothing again.

I twisted the dial for the fifth time, jaw tight, eyes flicking to the empty road ahead. Every frequency bled into the same thing— white noise, distant sobbing, screams caught mid-syllable.

"...please— please if anyone’s listening—"

I turned it again.

Silence.

Then—

A voice cut through.

"—This is Mayor Jonathan Locke of Chicago."

Everyone in the vehicle froze.

The man didn’t sound frantic. He didn’t sound afraid.

He sounded... tired.

"If you’re hearing this, then you’ve already realized the truth," the mayor continued. "Order is gone. The federal government is gone. And I never cared what the president thought anyway."

A pause.

I could hear slow, measured breathing— like he’d been trying to figure out the words.

"We tried restraint. We tried evacuation. We tried pretending the people of this city was worth saving in its entirety."

Another pause.

"They aren’t."

My stomach dropped.

"Kill what threatens you," the mayor said calmly. "Kill what hesitates. Kill what pleads."

The radio hissed softly.

"This is not cruelty," he added. "This is clarity."

Then—

The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

BANG.

Silence swallowed everything.

Terri’s hands flew to her mouth. Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed silently, eyes squeezed shut like she could erase what we’d just heard.

My throat closed. I forced myself to swallow, the motion painful, useless.

Aubrey didn’t look away from the road. Her face was pale, jaw set tight, hands steady on the wheel like if she let go for even a second, everything would collapse.

I glanced at Lila.

She stared straight ahead, expression distant. Flat.

Unmoved.

What the fuck was I even doing?

I slouched back into my seat, my head heavy, the world outside blurring past— overturned cars, cracked asphalt, a rusted sign that still read WELCOME TO CHICAGO. The words "have a nice stay" underneath it lingered in my mind like some kind of sick joke.

The people in this car... the others following behind us...

They were looking at me for answers.

For direction.

For something.

The woman who led the camp before me—she would’ve known what to say. What to do. I already knew Id make more mistakes than her.

A hand squeezed mine. I snapped out of it.

Lila.

She gave me a small smile. Not warm. Not reassuring.

But steady.

It helped. A little.

Then—

"Oh—COME ON—!"

Aubrey slammed the brakes.

The car slowed to a stop, tires crunching against debris. We all looked up.

Oh, fuck me.

The road ahead was completely clogged—abandoned vehicles piled at every angle, some overturned, others burned out, blocking the highway like a barricade built by panic itself.

No way through.

No way around.

And suddenly, the silence felt heavier than the gunshot ever had.

"So...what now?"

A whisper. My mind stuttered. My heart sank.

Could I catch a break? Could we?

I slowly unlocked the door, the metal cool beneath my fingers. The air hit me, hot and dry, smelling of burnt rubber and scorched asphalt. The others behind us did the same.

Hale appeared, his boots crunching over glass and gravel, rifle slung across his shoulder. His voice cut through the heat and smoke.

"I suggest we take the supplies we need and continue on foot off the main road. We’re sitting ducks out here."

I ran a hand through my hair as I felt Terri and the others stare at me.

"...That’s what we do then," I said. "For now, at least."

Frustrated sighs followed— inside the car, behind us. I tried to ignore them.

You think I don’t feel the same fucking way?

It’s not like we had a choice.

From here on out, every step mattered.

A rifle was slung over my shoulder as we climbed over the wreckage and slipped into the tree line, leaving the cars behind and carrying only what we needed. Leaves crunched beneath our boots. The air grew thick— damp, rotten.

The smell hit next.

Death. Close.

Bodies hidden just beyond sight. Supplies scattered through the grass like bait.

I slowed, letting the others pass.

That’s when I saw it.

Carved deep into the bark of a tree—

THE CRUCIBLE THRIVES.

My throat closed. My fists tightened.

A promise.

A warning.

"Keep walking, Cream Twinkie."

I flinched as Aubrey passed me.

I exhaled slowly, tore my eyes away from the mark, and kept moving.

"Adrian."

I looked up. Terri.

"I have a serious question, if I may ask..."

I tried not to sound annoyed. Failed anyway.

"What’s up?"

"Where exactly are we planning to go?" she asked carefully. "N—not to bash your leadership or anything, but like... I can’t be a nomad."

Her eyes searched my face for something—anything. An answer.

The words died in my mouth.

She frowned.

And then—

"Everybody get down—!"

Aubrey’s voice dropped into a harsh, forced whisper as she crouched.

The others followed instantly.

So did I.

Anticipation knotted tight in my chest as I clutched the rifle— heavy, unfamiliar, useless in my hands.

I held my breath.

Ahead of us, the woods stretched out in uneven layers— ferns, fallen logs, shadows stacked on shadows. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in thin, broken shafts, catching motes of dust and ash drifting lazily in the air. Too peaceful.

Aubrey held up two fingers. Then slowly clenched her fist.

We all froze at that.

I followed her gaze. There was movement.

Branches parted just slightly— enough for a shape to pass through. A silhouette slid between the trees, low to the ground, careful. Then another. Boots. I caught the dull glint of metal for half a second before it vanished behind bark.

Not infected.

People.

My stomach twisted.

Hale shifted beside me, slow and controlled, bringing his rifle up like it was an extension of his body. I tried to mirror him and nearly scraped metal against stone. I froze, pulse hammering in my ears, waiting for someone to shout.

No one did.

Voices drifted in— murmurs, close enough now that I could almost make out words.

"...told you someone would come this way..."

The voice was soft, muffled by foliage. Female.

My stomach tightened.

"Think they’re friendly?"

Another voice answered. Male. That accent— unfamiliar, clipped— made my skin crawl. Not Chicago. Not Midwest. Not anyone I recognized.

My grip tightened on the rifle.

"Adrian."

Hale’s voice was barely a breath. I glanced back. His eyes never left the treeline.

"We sound like we outnumber them," he murmured. "We can take their supplies easily."

A pause.

"It’s your call."

My mouth went dry.

Supplies meant food. Ammo. Medicine. Things we didn’t have enough of. Things people killed for now. My mind flashed with Terri’s shaking hands. With Lila’s steady grip on mine. To the broadcast message from the mayor.

Moments stretched— thin, fragile— before instinct took over.

I surged up from cover, rifle snapping forward, arms trembling as I aimed into the brush.

"Don’t move!"

They froze.

Hands shot into the air.

"Don’t shoot!!!!" the woman shouted. I closed one eye.

Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence, panic scraping raw against the air. She stood stiff, shoulders tight, fingers spread wide like she was afraid even her hands might betray her.

She had auburn hair— stiff and brittle. Caked with hairspray that caught the light in dull flakes. It looked wrong out here. Somewhat preserved. Like she was clinging to a version of the world that didn’t exist anymore.

The man beside her was overweight, breath already coming fast. A thick goatee framed his mouth, his expression stuck somewhere between fear and resentment. The kind of face I’d seen before— gas stations, dive bars, places that smelled like grease and bad decisions.

Redneck.

My eyes dropped to their clothes.

Loose fabrics. Beads. Layers that made no sense for running or fighting.

Hippies.

The weight of guilt had lifted just slightly.

"Drop everything you have," I ordered. "Now."

The woman crouched first, movements careful. She reached into her pockets, placing items on the dirt one by one— snacks, a lighter, a small bottle of pills. The man followed, grunting as he bent, setting down a knife, some loose ammo, a folded map.

My jaw tightened as I tried to preserve my cold look.

The woman’s sleeve had ridden up as she moved,

Just for me to see it.

My eyes widened slightly.

What the hell..?

A tattoo etched along her forearm— dark lines forming a symbol I didn’t immediately understand.

Yet, for some reason, it felt familiar.

My voice was barely above a whisper.

"You Crucible...—?"

I don’t know why I felt so inclined to ask. I suddenly felt dumb.

Aubrey shot me a look. She probably thought i was paranoid.

The woman’s lip trembled.

"A—are you asking if I believe in Jesus?"

I frowned. Silence followed soon after.

With that, laughter exploded behind me.

High. Sharp. Unhinged.

It sliced straight through the tension like a blade.

My head snapped toward the sound.

The blonde woman— blue streaks still threading through her hair like a cruel joke—was doubled over, wrists bound, laughing like

this was all entertainment.

Her eyes met mine, glittering with something wild and knowing.

I sighed.

I’d almost forgotten she came with us.