EP 21 - Abandoned Authority

The police station looked dead.

That alone made Kanata uneasy.

Patrol cars sat crooked in the parking lot, doors hanging open, wind rattling loose sirens like broken teeth. Bullet holes pocked the front glass. Someone had tried to fortify the entrance once. Someone had failed.

“Wow,” Godou-sensei muttered, stepping over a spent shell casing. “You’d think cops would be better at staying alive.”

She immediately tripped on a fallen barricade.

Her arms flailed. Her radio screeched to life with a burst of static. She barely caught herself on a squad car hood, blouse tugged low in the process.

“…Still works!” she announced, far too proudly.

Koko giggled.

The sound echoed.

Kanata’s hand tightened around his weapon.

“Inside,” he said.

They moved fast.

The front doors were already shattered. Dried blood streaked the tiles like someone had tried to crawl away and failed halfway through. The smell hit them next. Rust, rot, old sweat.

Kanami wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. This place is screaming bad idea.”

Kanata didn’t answer. His eyes were already on the lockers lining the wall.

Half open.

Half empty.

Someone had been here. Recently.

Before he could warn them, a door burst open to their right.

A police officer lunged out, uniform torn, jaw hanging loose.

Zombie.

Serizawa didn’t hesitate. One shot. The body slammed back into the wall, leaving a red smear.

“Gross,” she said flatly. “I liked cops better when they were annoying.”

More movement.

“Clear it,” Kanata ordered.

The words came out before he realized he’d spoken.

No one questioned him.

They swept the station room by room. Tight corridors. Offices overturned. Desks used as failed barricades. Zombie cops staggered out of holding cells, still dragging broken cuffs.

One grabbed Serizawa’s ankle.

She yelped, stumbled forward, skirt riding dangerously high as she kicked hard.

Kanata shot it through the head.

She looked back at him, breathing hard. “You owe me a drink.”

“If we live,” he replied.

Takiya moved like water beside him. Clean strikes. No wasted motion. When a zombie lunged from behind a desk, she stepped in, blade flashing once.

Down.

Godou struggled with one in the hallway, shrieking as it grabbed at her chest. Her blouse tore with a sharp rip.

She froze.

Everyone else froze too.

“…My eyes are up here!” she yelled, shoving the zombie away.

Kanata shot it.

Serizawa snorted. “Apocalypse really isn’t kind to dress codes, Sensei.”

They secured the armory last.

That was when Kanata knew for sure.

Racks were stripped. Ammo gone. Only scraps left behind. Whoever looted this place knew what they were doing.

“This isn’t random,” Kanami said quietly. “Someone planned this.”

Kanata nodded. “Grab what’s left.”

They armed up quickly. Pistols. Shotguns. Riot shields. Batons. The weight felt strange in Kanata’s hands.

Heavy.

Permanent.

Kanami pulled him aside, spreading a rough map on the hood of a cruiser. “We can’t stay. Police stations attract idiots with guns and bigger egos.”

Serizawa overheard and scoffed. “Big places mean supplies. Power.”

“Power gets people killed,” Kanami shot back.

Takiya stepped in calmly. “She’s right. We move after we rest.”

Godou raised a finger. “On the bright side, at least we’re not naked and afraid.”

No one laughed.

Kanata stood there, weapons at his feet, eyes unfocused.

Too many places like this. Too many signs of people turning on each other.

This wasn’t about zombies anymore.

Something was already rotting deeper.

A sound echoed from upstairs.

Heavy.

Slow.

Kanata raised his gun.

“Positions,” he said.

And everyone moved.

Without hesitation.

Without argument.

Without realizing when Kanata Yukimura had stopped asking—and started deciding.