NOVEL WEB Chapter 5: Rescue Girl
They told us to go back in.
They always say that.
They say it like the walls haven't grown teeth. Like rescue is still a thing that happens instead of a thing that kills you slower.
But we go anyway. That's what Unit 12 does. We're not medics. We're not soldiers. We're not volunteers. We're what happens when someone still believes a missing person is still a person, even when her last ping was seven days ago and came from the third floor of an elementary school cafeteria still full of food.
(That should have been the first red flag. Nothing is full of food anymore.)
My name is Marla. Not Mara, not Marley. Just Marla. No one bothers learning names here. You're "new girl" until you survive your third pull, or until your body makes it back with your radio still intact. Either one counts.
They say there's a man who runs this place.
They don't know his name. No one does.
They just call him the Commander. He has one hand. A dozen knives. And over 500 survivors who would die if he told them to. Most of us already have.
I've never seen him, but sometimes we hear his voice on the rooftop speakers. Just static and a sentence. Like a ghost giving orders.
Yesterday it was:
"If she's still singing, she's not one of them."
Today it was:
"If he's not afraid, shoot him anyway."
We went in at 0600.
Me, Darren, Ant, and Hallie. Hallie's been here the longest. She walks like she used to be a cop, or a dancer, or both. Darren's been bitten twice and still hasn't turned. Ant's thirteen and wears bones in his hair like trophies.
Me? I still flinch when the PA system screams. I still think rescue is real.
The girl we were supposed to find was named Becky. Twelve. Missing seven days. Last seen wearing a green jacket and one shoe. Apparently her older sister saw her through a crack in the wall. Said she was still singing.
That's why we went.
Because no one sings anymore. Not unless they're bait.
The school was rotting, but not dead.
Classroom lights flickered like bad dreams. Someone had scrawled DO NOT ENTER UNLESS YOU'RE READY TO DIE SAD on the stairwell in what looked like fruit punch and definitely wasn't. There were shoes in the hallway. Too many shoes.
We heard her humming on the second floor. "Twinkle, Twinkle," but the notes were wrong. Like she was forgetting halfway through, or like someone had taught her the song with all the important parts missing.
"She's not afraid," Hallie whispered.
We all looked at each other.
No one said it, but we were thinking it.
If she's not afraid…
But we kept going.
Because we still hoped.
Because we still wanted to believe that not every kid is just hunger in a hoodie.
Because Darren still had a daughter once. Because Ant wanted to prove he was brave. Because Hallie had a bullet with her own name on it and hadn't used it yet.
And me?
Because I wanted to believe that rescue meant something. That my third pull wouldn't end with another body and another empty bed.
We found her in the cafeteria, sitting on a table, swinging one leg.
She smiled when she saw us. That's how we knew it was wrong.
They never smile.
"I knew you'd come," she said.
Her voice was too clean. Too smooth. Like it had never screamed or cried or begged.
Darren stepped forward. She didn't flinch.
Ant raised his knife. She didn't blink.
Hallie looked at me.
That's when I saw it.
The pile behind her. Not trash. Not blankets.
Shoes.
Dozens of them.
The same standard issued shoes we all got.
She started singing again.
And the lockers opened.
They weren't lockers anymore. They were mouths. Bone-deep. Full of things that used to be children.
We didn't fight. Not really. You don't fight Cannibals.
I don't remember how we got out.
I know Darren didn't.
I know Ant screamed "Stop Smiling" before something pulled him sideways into the dark.
Hallie dragged me by the collar. My leg was bleeding. I didn't know when I was hurt. I didn't know what I left behind.
We crossed the gate only to do the same thing over again tomorrow.
That night, the PA speaker crackled.
We all froze.
Then the voice spoke.
The Commander.
Four words.
"Well Done Unit 12."
Hallie hasn't spoken since.
Ant's bones are gone.
Darren's name was erased from the board.
And me?
They call me "rescue girl" now.