The Eve of Ashes

Ash didn't remember how long she'd been sitting in the driveway. The world around her felt muted, like she was underwater, her mind unable to process what had just happened. Her father's blood stained the cracked pavement beneath her, spreading out like an accusation she couldn't ignore. She was stuck, unable to move, unable to think, replaying the moment over and over in her head. Eve's bat. The sound. The way her father crumpled to the ground like he was nothing. It was all wrong, every piece of it, but Ash couldn't make sense of how to put it back together.

Her father was dead.

And Eve...

Ash pressed her hands to her face, the tears she'd been holding back for days finally spilling over. She could still see him on the porch, his face lined with exhaustion but lit by that same stubborn determination she'd always known. Her father had been so certain they could stay, so sure they'd be fine if they just waited it out.

"This house was your mother's dream, Ash," he'd told her. She'd been pacing the kitchen, trying to convince him they had to leave, that the neighbors were right to pack their cars and head for the mountains or the coast or anywhere else. "She fought so hard for this place, and I'm not abandoning it now. This is our home."

But it wasn't anymore. Not without him.

Ash's mother had died when she was ten, cancer taking her slowly over the course of three years. Her father had never remarried, never even dated. He'd poured everything into keeping their lives as steady as possible, insisting they could make it through anything as long as they had each other. And he'd clung to the house, the house her mother had fallen in love with on sight.

It had always been too big for just the two of them—three bedrooms, a sprawling yard, even a wraparound porch her dad kept freshly painted every spring. Her mom had spent countless evenings curled up on that porch swing, humming to herself as she watched the sunset.

Ash had loved this house too, but it didn't feel like home anymore. Not with the bloodstains still drying on the wood.

She wiped at her eyes and let her gaze wander up the empty street. She hadn't gone far, but she couldn't seem to stop walking. Time blurred into a haze of cracked asphalt and burned-out cars, the faint scent of smoke hanging in the air. She thought of her father again—how he'd stood his ground even when everything else was falling apart. How he'd refused to see the world for what it had become.

How Eve had killed him.

Ash had seen Eve around town plenty of times before. She wasn't the kind of girl you could ignore. Always carrying herself like she didn't care what anyone thought, like she owned every space she walked into. Ash had run into her at the corner store a few times, at the diner her dad liked to frequent, even at the park once. They'd never spoken, but Ash remembered the sharpness in Eve's gaze, the way she moved like she was ready to fight at a moment's notice.

Eve had always seemed untouchable. A little wild, maybe, but confident in a way Ash couldn't even imagine being. She'd been fascinated by her from a distance, watching as Eve leaned against her truck outside the store, lighting a cigarette with one hand while carrying a six-pack in the other. Ash had wondered, in those fleeting moments, what it would be like to talk to her.

But now? Now Eve was the monster who had swung a bat at her father's head without hesitation.

The memory of that moment wouldn't stop replaying in Ash's mind. She'd been on the porch, hoping for just a sliver of normalcy as she stepped outside to breathe. She hadn't even seen him at first—her dad, stumbling into the driveway, his shoulders slumped and his steps uneven. Relief had hit her so fast, so overwhelmingly, that it felt like her lungs might burst.

"Dad!" she'd called, taking a step toward him, her heart already loosening from the grip of fear.

And then Eve had appeared.

She'd come out of nowhere, sprinting across the street with her bat raised, yelling something Ash hadn't caught over the pounding in her ears. It all happened too fast. One moment, her father was turning toward Eve's voice, and the next, the bat was coming down with a sickening crack.

Ash had frozen, her breath stuck in her chest, her scream lodged somewhere in her throat. Her father collapsed in front of her, motionless, lifeless.

Now, no matter how many times she replayed it in her mind, her grief twisted the memory into something worse.

He'd been fine. He was walking toward her. He'd turned his head when Eve called out, but he wasn't attacking. He wasn't dangerous. Eve hadn't even given him a chance. She'd just swung, no hesitation, no thought. Ash wanted to believe that. Needed to believe it.

Because if Eve wasn't to blame, if her dad really had… turned, if his empty eyes and bloodied mouth had meant what they did for everyone else, then what did that say about Ash? That she hadn't seen it? That she hadn't been fast enough to stop him?

No. It was easier this way.

Eve had done it. Eve had taken him from her, ripped him away like it meant nothing. And the worst part? She'd walked away after, like it was just another chore.

Ash clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. She hated Eve for her coldness, for her certainty, for the way she'd stolen her last chance to save her dad.

He wasn't gone, not until Eve decided he was.

Ash didn't remember getting up, didn't recall when she'd started walking. It was as if her body had decided to move without consulting her, pulling her out of the suffocating quiet of the driveway. Her father's blood still clung to her shoes, but she couldn't feel anything anymore.

Her mind spun in endless circles, replaying the moment over and over. Eve's bat. The sound. The way her father crumpled, lifeless, all while Eve stood there, cold and unshaken.

She didn't know where she was going, but she knew what she wanted.

Eve.

Ash's fists clenched at her sides as her steps quickened. The anger bubbling inside her was the only thing keeping her upright, the only thing holding her together. She didn't know what she was going to do when she found her. Scream at her? Hit her? Make her feel the way Ash did right now—angry, lost, and broken? She didn't care. All she knew was that Eve had to pay.

She didn't notice the ache in her legs or the burn in her lungs. The streets were a blur of wreckage and smoke, the eerie silence only punctuated by the occasional groan of the undead. None of it mattered. Nothing else mattered but finding her.

When Ash spotted her, she stopped dead in her tracks. Eve was sitting on the hood of a rusted car, her bat resting against her shoulder like it was an extension of her arm. She didn't look tired or scared—just bored, like this was all some tedious inconvenience.

Eve spotted her almost immediately, her lips curling into a smirk that made Ash's blood boil.

"Took you long enough," Eve called out, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thought maybe you got eaten or something."

Ash froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands trembled with the weight of everything she wanted to say, everything she wanted to do.

But she said nothing.

Eve raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, the smirk never leaving her face. "Well? You gonna stand there all day, or do I need to come to you?"

Ash's rage boiled over, but her body betrayed her, locking her in place. She didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. All she knew was that Eve was right there, and her presence was like a spark to dry kindling.

And Eve? She looked like she was waiting for it, daring Ash to make the first move.

The tension hung between them, thick and electric, and Ash's fury burned brighter with every passing second. She didn't know what was coming next, but whatever it was, it would change everything.

.