Requiem of the Dead

Leila grimaced, the possibility of being surrounded by even a small group of infected sending a spike of fear through her. "We can't stay here."

"That's what I figured. You want to wake the others?" Kai asked, his voice hushed.

She glanced around. Fiona was curled in a corner near Darren, who looked pale but stable after her care. Mark dozed lightly on the top stair, his gun resting across his knees, while Kai stood watch. Despite the bleakness of their situation, a pang of gratitude crept up on Leila—they were still here, still fighting.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "We have to move before that horde, or whatever it is, sniffs us out."

Kai gently roused Mark, and Leila touched Fiona's shoulder, offering a small nod of thanks as the nurse blinked awake. Darren stirred, wincing but gamely pushing to his feet. Within minutes, the group was gathered, the hush of the loft filled with the faint scrape of boots, the rustle of gear.

"We head out the way we came," Leila said, keeping her voice low. "Stick to the alleys until we're clear of this area. Then we make a push for the next safe zone—wherever that ends up being."

"Supplies?" Mark asked, stifling a yawn. "We're down to almost nothing."

Leila looked at him, aware of how hollow his cheeks appeared, how exhaustion seemed to line every face in the group. "We'll salvage what we can along the way. Abandoned buildings, cars, anything we can find. It won't be easy, but we don't have a choice."

Fiona tightened the strap of her medical bag. "We'll manage." The words were simple, but they carried a ring of steely resolve.

Kai checked his weapon. "We move fast, we move quiet."

Leila nodded, meeting each person's gaze. "Let's go."

They descended the staircase in tense silence, every creak of the metal steps threatening to draw the attention of any infected lurking nearby. The auto repair shop's ground floor was just as they'd left it—dim, reeking of rust and old oil. Dawn's pale light filtered through the broken windows, stirring the dust motes in the stagnant air.

The group formed up, weapons at the ready, and slipped out into the deserted street. Their breaths turned visible in the cold morning air. Farther down the block, a cluster of infected shuffled aimlessly, heads snapping around at the faintest sound. Leila motioned for the group to crouch low, weaving through the wreckage of abandoned cars and scattered debris. Her heart hammered in her chest, each breath feeling like a betrayal of stealth.

They managed three blocks before encountering a pair of infected prowling near a smashed storefront. Darren brought his rifle up, firing twice in swift succession—each shot painstakingly precise. The undead collapsed in a sprawl of torn flesh and tattered clothing, and Leila forced herself to keep moving. She had learned long ago that dwelling on the dead helped no one.

The city felt haunted, its ruins echoing with what once had been normal life—discarded toys scattered across the sidewalks, broken neon signs above ransacked shops, half-finished meals rotting on tables in an abandoned café. A pang of grief swelled in Leila's chest as they passed a vandalized billboard touting a family fun day. Now, it was streaked with a dark, unidentifiable substance she tried not to think about.

At last, they ducked into a narrow alley behind a boarded-up supermarket, the stench of rotten produce so strong it made Fiona gag. Leila pressed her back against the grimy wall, catching her breath. The tension in the air was palpable, stretching the silence into something razor-sharp.

"We keep going," she whispered, her voice echoing softly between the walls. "Once we're clear of the main streets, we'll figure out our next target."

Mark, rifle clutched tightly, nodded. His knuckles were white, and the fear in his eyes spoke volumes, though his words did not. Fiona's expression had hardened into a mask of resolve, while Darren flexed his injured arm, jaw tight. Kai lingered at the back, his gaze flicking constantly between the alley's entrance and the path ahead, ready for any threat.

Leila swallowed hard, forcing down the ache in her ribs and the sting of betrayal that still weighed on her. Jace and Ellie were gone—either the infected had torn them apart or they were biding their time, plotting their next move. She couldn't afford to wonder or grieve. Not when her group's survival was at stake.

"Alright," she said, letting out a slow exhale. "Let's move. We've got a long way to go."

One by one, they slipped from the alley into a world that refused to show them mercy. Yet they pressed forward, because giving up had never been an option for any of them. And as the sun rose, chasing away the last shreds of night, Leila felt a spark of something she couldn't quite define—hope or defiance, it didn't matter. Either would carry her through the day.

They stuck to shadowy side streets, ducking beneath collapsed awnings and weaving through the skeletal remains of burned-out cars. Occasionally, they spotted more infected wandering aimlessly, moaning in their endless hunger. The group avoided them whenever possible, taking them out silently when not. Each kill felt like a grim necessity, each shot a reminder that humanity itself was unraveling at the seams.

Despite the city's gloom, a warm glow spread across the horizon, illuminating the battered buildings in soft light. Leila led them onward, ignoring the protests of her battered ribs, ignoring the gnawing hunger in her belly. There would be time to restock later—if they lived that long.

The edges of the city gave way to a more open stretch of road, flanked by overgrown lots and abandoned parking structures. They took cover behind a rusted chain-link fence, surveying a row of small houses that might still hold supplies. Fiona's eyes lit up with faint hope, and Darren gave a slight nod as if to say this could work.

Leila motioned them forward, the group splitting into pairs to search the battered homes. The stench of decay was overpowering, and any illusions of normalcy vanished as they stepped inside. Furniture lay overturned, food rotted in half-open cupboards, and the occasional bloodstain told stories no one wanted to relive.

Mark and Darren found a pantry with a few dusty cans of food still intact, a victory that drew a small, relieved laugh from Fiona. She retrieved water from an old rain barrel out back, testing it carefully for contamination. Leila watched them with a mixture of gratitude and worry. Every resource they gathered was a temporary reprieve, but it wouldn't last forever.

Meanwhile, Kai stood guard at the entrance, his stance relaxed but his eyes constantly scanning. At times, Leila caught him watching her, as though searching for signs of weakness. She offered none—she couldn't afford to. Not now, not when her group depended on the illusion of her unbreakable resolve.

Eventually, the small house had given all it could. With what little they'd salvaged, they regrouped on the cracked driveway, each of them a little less tense than before. A slight breeze cut through the stillness, carrying the faint sound of distant moans on its currents.

Leila glanced around at her ragtag team—Mark and Darren, arms laden with their meager finds; Fiona, clutching her medical bag to her chest; Kai, watchful and silent at her side. They were tired, battered, uncertain. But they were together.

"This place won't hold if a horde passes through," she said, her voice subdued yet firm. "Let's push on. If we can make it another mile or two without running into trouble, we might find a better spot to rest."

Mark gave a curt nod, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. "Lead the way."

Fiona quietly adjusted her bag, the faint rattling of supplies inside. Darren cracked his neck, wincing as the motion pulled at his injuries. Kai merely lifted his chin, indicating he was ready.

Leila led them south, guided only by a tattered road map in her mind. She recalled glimpses of a rest stop or a small service station somewhere along this route from her earlier scouting trips. If it hadn't been overrun, it might provide at least a day's worth of supplies and a night's respite. They just had to survive long enough to reach it.