Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend-Chapter 67: Brain shortage

The soldiers escorted us out of the room, boots heavy against concrete as we peeled away from the line and moved parallel to it.

That alone was enough to draw attention.

Lila’s hand was locked around mine, fingers tight—too tight—but she wasn’t giddy anymore. Not openly. Whatever thrill had been bubbling in her earlier had been shoved down, compressed into something smaller and far more dangerous.

Contained.

I could feel it in the way her grip never loosened.

Eyes followed us as we passed.

Peter stared openly, confusion hardening into suspicion. Jane looked away too quickly. Terri’s mouth parted like she wanted to speak but didn’t dare. Cherie didn’t look at me at all.

Aubrey did.

Her eyebrow twitched—just once—but it said everything. Anger. Betrayal. A question she didn’t have time to ask.

"NEXT!!" a soldier barked from the front of the line.

Aubrey didn’t move.

She was still staring at me.

I raised my hand slightly and pointed— two fingers, sharp and deliberate— toward the space in front of her. Toward the bloodstained pavement. Toward the rifle waiting to decide her fate if she didn’t comply.

Her jaw tightened.

I could practically feel the heat rolling off her, resentment crackling in the air between us. She turned forward at last, stiff, furious.

Good.

Hate me later. Live now.

Did I have a plan to get them in too?

No.

Not yet.

But plans were easier to make when you were still breathing.

The younger soldier walked a step ahead of us now, one hand resting near the radio clipped to his chest.

"Yeah," he said into it, voice clipped. "We’ve got someone needing med clearance. Female. Claimed cycle complications."

A pause.

Static crackled back.

"—you’re sure?" the voice on the other end asked, skeptical.

"Yeah," the soldier replied, glancing at Lila. "Protocol says—"

Another pause.

Then, reluctantly: "Fine. Send them in."

The words loosened something tight around my ribs.

We moved again, deeper past the barricades, past the shouting and the guns and the open executions. The air changed as we walked—less dust, more antiseptic. Bleach. Alcohol. Old fear scrubbed into tile.

We stopped in front of a door marked with peeling letters:

MEDICAL

The room beyond was small but clean. Too clean. White walls. Stainless steel surfaces. A single bed in the center, thin paper stretched over it.

A man in a lab coat stood with his back to us, shoulders hunched slightly as he examined something on a counter.

"Dr. Tekashi," the younger soldier said, voice suddenly more respectful. "We’ve got someone for you."

"Leave her on the bed," the man replied without turning around.

Lila hesitated only half a second before they guided her forward. She sat, then lay back as instructed, eyes never leaving me. I stayed where I was, pulse loud in my ears, watching every movement like it might snap the illusion apart.

Anticipation crawled up my spine.

This was the hinge.

A moment passed.

Then the doctor spoke again, calm, absolute.

"That means the two of you should leave the room as well."

The soldiers exchanged a glance. A silent argument flickered between them—duty versus convenience.

I was half expecting them to tell me to follow them as well, since...I wasn’t really needed there.

Yet those instructions never came.

Finally, with visible reluctance, they stepped back.

The door closed.

The lock clicked.

Silence dropped like a held breath.

Dr. Tekashi turned around.

And for the first time since we’d been separated from the line, since the guns and shouting and blood, I let myself think one dangerous thought—

If this man wasn’t who he said he was...

Then whatever came next would decide everything.

"...So," he said at last.

"What seems to be the problem?"

Dr. Tekashi was older than I expected. Short, dark hair streaked with silver that refused to stay hidden. Fine wrinkles fanned out from the corners of his slightly slanted eyes—the kind earned from years of squinting at charts, not smiling. His posture was straight, economical. Every movement had purpose.

A no-nonsense man.

The kind who didn’t bluff.

The kind who saw through them.

His gaze settled on me.

I met it—and immediately began calculating. How much truth. How much lie. How much danger I could afford.

Lila shifted beside me, lips parting.

I cut in before she could speak.

"Uh—actually," I said, forcing an awkward edge into my voice, "we don’t really have a problem. Per se."

Lila turned toward me, confused. Alert. Expectant.

Dr. Tekashi raised an eyebrow.

My pulse spiked.

"The cycle?" he asked calmly.

I swallowed.

"She doesn’t have one," I said. "Not... right now."

For half a second, I was certain I’d just killed us.

I felt it—the invisible click of a decision being weighed. Security. Soldiers. End of the line.

I didn’t give him the time.

"We’re travelers," I continued quickly, words slipping out smoother than I felt. "Me. Her. A few others. We’re not looking for handouts—we’re looking for structure. Information. People who actually want to understand the infected instead of just shooting anything that twitches."

Silence.

Dr. Tekashi studied me—not my posture, not my clothes.

My eyes.

I felt like he was peeling me apart layer by layer.

Beside me, Lila went rigid. I felt it even without looking—muscles coiling, the subtle shift of weight like she might spring at him if he said the wrong thing.

My own body mirrored it instinctively. Heart pounding. Breath shallow.

Then—

"Really now?" he said.

He sounded... curious.

"Where are you traveling from?"

The question caught me off guard.

"Chicago," I answered, a beat too fast. "Englewood, specifically."

For the first time, something flickered across his face.

Interest.

"And you’re still alive?" he asked. "You and your group must be very capable."

Warmth slid into my chest before I could stop it.

I scratched the back of my head, the gesture half reflex, half deflection. "Well—"

The words died.

He’d already turned away, moving back to his table, hands sorting through supplies with practiced ease.

"Most of the doctors sent here were infected," he said casually. "The rest were killed. Or worse— kept alive long enough to prove they didn’t know what they were doing."

My chest tightened.

He looked back at me.

"Meaning?" I asked, even though I already knew.

"Meaning there’s a shortage of brains here," he said flatly. "And I don’t think there’s much this place can offer you people."

A pause.

"What about you?" I asked.

He let out a short, humorless breath. "You think I can do this alone?" 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

He leaned back against the counter.

"I’ve been waiting for other doctors. Researchers. Anyone competent. So far?" He shook his head. "Nothing."

Silence stretched.

Something in my head snapped—not loudly, not violently.

Clean.

"My group has someone," I said. "A girl. She’s smart. Really smart. She keeps records—detailed ones. A book. She documents the infected. Behavior patterns. Variants. How some of them... think."

That got him.

Dr. Tekashi’s eyes sharpened.

"Your group," he said slowly, "sounds interesting."

His gaze flicked to Lila—just once—then back to me.

"I’ll be blunt," he continued. "The soldiers you see outside? Most of them have never fought the infected up close. Half of them have never even stepped beyond the compound walls."

I felt my jaw tighten.

"They’re scared," he said plainly. "And the people running this place?" A pause. "They’re fools. Too focused on control to realize what they actually need."

He looked at me again— this time not like paperwork.

Like a variable.

"They need survivors," Dr. Tekashi said. "Not just soldiers."

The room felt smaller.

He met my eyes.

"And from what I can tell, son..."

The way he said my name made my spine stiffen.

"You and your group might be exactly what this place can’t afford to lose."

Dr. Tekashi folded his hands behind his back.

A beat.

"I’ll send in a recommendation," he said. "Your people will be cleared. No delays. No issues."

For a second, I just stood there.

Something warm slid into my chest—slow, unfamiliar. Relief. Real relief. My shoulders dropped. My muscles unclenched like they’d finally remembered how.

I inhaled, already shaping the words.

Thank you.

"As for your problem?"

The warmth evaporated.

Dr. Tekashi’s eyes shifted—not to me.

To Lila.

Every nerve in my body lit up.

Problem?

She hadn’t moved. She hadn’t smiled. She hadn’t spoken. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, posture perfect—too perfect. A mannequin pretending to breathe.

"For right now," he continued calmly, "there isn’t anything we can do."

My throat went dry.

"If you really want to change her that badly," he added, almost conversationally, "perhaps a lobotomy would work."

The word hit me like a gunshot.

My pulse spiked so hard my vision tunneled.

Lobotomy.

No.

No, no, no—

My hand twitched at my side, fingers curling before I could stop them. I forced them still. Forced my face neutral. Forced my breathing to stay even.

Don’t react.

Reaction is confirmation.

Lila’s head tilted just slightly.

I felt it more than I saw it—the subtle shift in the air when her attention locked onto him. Not anger. Not fear.

Interest.

There was no way.

No way he could know that fast.

We hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t slipped. She’d been perfect. Quiet. Controlled.

Unless...

I replayed the room in my head in brutal clarity.

Her stillness.

The way she’d coiled when he read me.

The devotion in her eyes when I spoke.

Patterns.

He hadn’t diagnosed her.

He’d diagnosed me.

Dr. Tekashi watched my face carefully now, not missing the fraction of a second it took me to swallow.

"That was a joke," he said after a beat.

A test.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, forcing a short, strained laugh. "Yeah. Thought so."

Liar.

His mouth twitched— not quite a smile.

"But," he continued, voice lowering, "people don’t ask for structure unless they’re trying to contain something."

His gaze flicked to Lila again.

"And they don’t lie about something as mundane as a cycle unless the truth is far more dangerous."

My chest tightened.

I could feel the fracture spreading again—thin, sharp, unavoidable.

"She’s not sick," I said carefully.

"I didn’t say she was," he replied.

Silence stretched between us, thick and clinical.

Finally, he turned back to his desk, already done with the conversation.

"Take your clearance," he said. "Get your people inside."

He paused, just long enough to matter.

"And son?"

"Yes?"

He didn’t look at me when he spoke.

"Whatever you’re holding together with words and timing—understand this."

I felt Lila’s fingers brush mine. Possessive. Grounding. Dangerous.

"Eventually," Dr. Tekashi said, "something always slips."

The door buzzed open.

I took Lila’s hand and led her out, my grip firm, controlled—nothing like the tremor running through my chest.

As we stepped back into the noise of soldiers and orders and false safety, I realized something that made my stomach turn cold.

He hadn’t threatened us.

He’d warned me.

And the worst part?

A small, quiet piece of me was already planning what I’d do...

When the words stopped being enough.