Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 33: _ Beginning of a New Team

Bea folds her arms tightly, looking like she’s ready to fight someone—me, specifically. "For the last time, Pretty Boy is mine," she declares with petulance in her tone.

I roll my eyes. "You say that like he’s a limited-edition handbag."

León, who’s still leaning against the wall, half-conscious and looking like death warmed over, makes a weak attempt at smirking. "I’m flattered."

I ignore him.

"Bea, people aren’t things to be owned," I say dryly.

Bea narrows her eyes. "Says the one who’s been calling him Pretty Boy like some pet name."

"It wasn’t a pet name," I protest. "It was a placeholder. And, if anything, you should be thanking me... could’ve called him something worse. Like Water Thief."

León groans. "Oh my God, let that go."

Before Bea and I can continue our very serious debate over human ownership rights, Yara cuts in with a harsh cough, pressing a shaky hand against the wall to keep herself upright.

"Before you two rip each other apart," she rasps, glaring at us through half-lidded eyes, "maybe we should focus on the fact that we’re stuck in an apocalypse and barely surviving?"

She gestures vaguely at the wreckage of the apartment; the broken furniture, the peeling wallpaper, the lingering scent of blood and desperation.

"Look, if we’re going to do this," she continues, struggling to catch her breath, "if we’re actually going to stick together, we need to be sure about one thing: we have each other’s backs."

She scans our faces, making sure we’re listening. Bea huffs but doesn’t argue. I cross my arms, watching her carefully. León doesn’t say anything, but I see the way his fingers twitch, like he wants to say something but doesn’t have the energy.

Yara exhales. "A formal introduction. A promise. Before anything else."

I shift uncomfortably. Promises aren’t exactly my strong suit. And after everything that’s happened to me, I’m not sure I can trust anyone to keep theirs as well.

Bea snorts at Yara’s words. "Right, and then what? We just leave the guys behind?"

The room tenses.

Yara gives her a long, hard look. "Bea, read the room."

Bea clenches her jaw. "They could still be out there."

"They’ve been gone for a week."

"So?!"

"So, they’re either dead, zombie food, zombies themselves," Yara says bluntly. "Or they’ve been captured by other survivors. And in that case? What do you expect us to do? March in with our sticks and... oh wait—sugar candies? Maybe bribe their kidnappers with the last drops of water we have?"

Bea glares at her, eyes shining. "We could at least try!"

Yara’s voice is sharper as she counters. "And end up just like them? You think we’re in any shape to fight? Look at me. Look at León."

Bea does. Her lips press into a tight line, and she swallows hard.

Yara doesn’t let it go. "I’m not saying we don’t care, Bea. I’m saying we can’t afford to care recklessly. What are we supposed to do? Track them when we don’t even have the resources to fight? We’ll all just end up dead."

The silence is suffocating. Bea’s shoulders shake, but she doesn’t break.

Yara softens at her pitiful reaction just a little. "Look, there are only two possibilities. Either they’re dead, or they got tired of us and moved on."

Bea’s eyes snap up with petrification at first, but she quickly turns her face into blandness.

"And either way," Yara finishes, "we need to survive. Staying in this apartment isn’t going to protect us forever. It’s a waiting game, and eventually, we’ll lose."

She takes a deep and unsteady breath, then levels Bea with one last look. "Unless you want to die without even trying, stay. But I won’t. They are four men. Sure they can take care of themselves."

I shift my weight, watching the way Bea stiffens at that. She’s trying so hard not to break. A part of me respects it. Another part of me is just tired.

For the first time since I met her, she looks... small.

Like she’s been holding onto something impossible and is only now realizing it’s slipping away. I can relate.

Just then, something suddenly doesn’t sound right in my ears.

Wait.

They said they were with two men. So why is Yara saying there were four now?

I squint my eyes. "Hold on a second."

Bea tenses.

"I thought you said it was just two guys."

Yara and Bea exchange a look. It’s brief, but it’s enough for me to catch. Bea flinches. It’s also barely noticeable, but it’s there. I see it and hope León sees it as well.

Bea hesitates, then mumbles, "We were."

León, who has been quietly observing, speaks. "And now it’s four?"

Yara sighs and tilts her head back against the wall. "The apartment we were in before this one... it wasn’t ours originally. Two guys were already living there. Eventually, we became a team." She opens her eyes and looks directly at León. "Just like us now."

A bitter laugh escapes me. "Just like us?"

Yara doesn’t flinch. "People come together in shitty times."

Or tear each other apart.

León nods slowly. "Alright. That makes sense." His voice is neutral, but there’s something in his eyes... something calculating.

He’s thinking the same thing I am.

What else are they hiding?

I file away the new information for later. There’s something about their story that still feels off, but for now, I let it slide. Now’s not the time to poke further.

Yara’s still bleeding. León is barely standing. And Bea looks like she’s two seconds from breaking into full-blown denial.

Finally, Bea exhales sharply, dragging a hand down her face. "Fine," she grumbles. "Fine. We’ll do this together. But if this turns into some dramatic survival nightmare, I’m haunting you all after I die."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," I say dryly.

She rolls her eyes. "Since we’re officially stuck with each other, we should probably do this introduction thing, right?"

Yara groans. "That’s what I said in the first place!"

León smirks faintly. "Took us long enough."

Bea flips him off.

Yara clears her throat... winces then starts. "I’m Yara Navarro. I used to be a med student. Now I’m a very exhausted almost-corpse. Nice to meet you."

Bea sighs dramatically. "Beatriz Sánchez, but just call me Bea. Former art student." She flicks her wrist. "And fashionista, obviously."

"Obviously," I echo dryly, eyeing her ragged clothes.

She gasps. "Rude."

León grins faintly. "León Castillo. Mechanic. Before all this, I mean."

That makes sense. He’s got that good with his hands energy.

They all turn to me. Uh-uh.

This is dangerous. Every time I let them know something about me, I risk them figuring out what I really am. What if they find out that the real me is dead?

But I also know I can’t keep dodging forever.

I clear my throat. "Renata Jensen." I keep it simple. No details. No past. Just a name.

Bea eyes me suspiciously, like she can sense there’s more to my story. I’m glad she doesn’t speak.

Yara nods. "Nice to meet you, Renata."

I blink. It’s such a normal thing to say in such a completely abnormal situation.

Bea groans. "Wow, this is weird. This is so weird. Why does it feel like some kind of team is forming?"

Because it is.

And that’s what unsettles me. I still have revenge to exact on my previous team. Now, here I am starting another one.

However it ends, I promise I won’t be the one shot beside a gutter this time around. This time, I’m making those who put me in this unfortunate situation pay and I’m leveling up until I became the QUEEN.

I glance at León. He looks exhausted. So does Yara. The only reason Bea isn’t blacked out is because she’s still running on stubbornness and adrenaline.

We don’t have time to waste. For better or worse, we’re in this together now.

A new team. A messed-up, chaotic, probably doomed team...

But a team nonetheless.