Requiem of the Dead

The world had collapsed faster than even Leila had anticipated.

The distant sirens and panicked screams that once seemed like background noise had now become the soundtrack to the apocalypse. Fires raged unchecked, smoke billowing into the sky, and the streets were no longer safe. The infection had spread faster than anyone had been prepared for. The undead—ravenous, relentless—were everywhere. The city was lost.

They had to move. Now.

Leila tightened her grip on her backpack strap, heart pounding as she led the group through the alleyways. Mark was at her side, his knife already slick with blood—human or infected, she didn't know. Darren was bringing up the rear, his military instincts keeping them just ahead of danger. Fiona clung to the small first-aid kit strapped across her chest, her breath coming in short gasps. Jace and Ellie were still with them, but for how long? Leila knew their loyalty was conditional. She had seen their true nature once before. It was only a matter of time before they turned on her again.

They reached an intersection, the buildings looming high on either side, casting deep, shifting shadows in the glow of nearby fires. A distant explosion rattled the ground beneath them. Gunshots echoed through the city like bursts of thunder, distant but approaching. The world was tearing itself apart.

"We need to get out of the city," Darren said, scanning their surroundings. His voice was calm, controlled, but there was an edge to it—he knew they were running out of time.

Leila nodded. She had spent the last three months preparing for this. Their destination was set—an old hunting cabin hidden deep in the woods. It was stocked, defensible. Their best shot at surviving the early days of chaos. If they could just get there.

They reached the edge of a main road, and Leila held up a fist, signaling for the group to stop. A wrecked police car smoldered in the middle of the street, bodies littered across the pavement. Some of them twitched. The recently turned.

"Shit," Mark muttered. "We can't go that way."

Leila assessed their options. The highway would be overrun. The main roads were a death trap. That left the backstreets and the sewer tunnels—neither of which were much better.

"We go through the residential district," she decided. "Stick to the houses, cut through the backyards. It'll be slower, but we'll have more cover."

"Or we'll get boxed in," Darren warned.

"Do you have a better idea?" she shot back.

He hesitated, then shook his head. "Let's move."

They darted across the street, avoiding the grasping hands of the newly risen corpses. The smell of rot clung to the air, the moans of the infected growing louder. Leila kept them moving, forcing herself to ignore the pit in her stomach.

They reached a fence, and Mark boosted Fiona over first before climbing after her. Darren vaulted it with ease, while Jace and Ellie hesitated.

"Hurry up," Leila hissed.

Jace glanced back. "They're coming."

Leila turned, her blood running cold. A horde had noticed them. Dozens of bodies, dragging themselves forward with grotesque hunger. Their eyes—clouded, vacant—locked onto them, their pace quickening.

"Go!" she shouted.

Jace scrambled over the fence, and Ellie followed, just as the first infected lunged. Leila barely managed to pull her knife free before stabbing it through its skull. Blood splattered across her hands, but she didn't stop to wipe it away.

More were coming. Too many.

She climbed the fence, landing hard on the other side as Darren grabbed her arm and yanked her forward. "No time!" he barked.

They sprinted through the yards, ducking under broken porches and weaving between abandoned vehicles. The city was burning behind them, the distant sound of helicopters circling overhead—too little, too late.

Leila's lungs burned, but she didn't slow. She couldn't. Not until they were safe.

The last house on the block loomed ahead. Beyond it, the woods stretched into the horizon—their salvation. If they could just reach the tree line, they had a chance.

Leila pushed harder, but then—a scream.

Ellie.

Leila skidded to a stop, turning to see Ellie pinned beneath a fallen fence post, an infected dragging itself toward her. Its fingers curled against the dirt as it clawed forward, mouth opening and closing hungrily.

Jace hesitated. Mark and Fiona had already made it into the woods. Darren had stopped, but only barely.

Leila had seen this moment before. A different time, a different place. But the result had been the same.

Ellie had abandoned her when she needed her most.

Leila gritted her teeth. "Help her!" she snapped at Jace.

But he was already backing away. Already making his choice.

Leila didn't think. She just moved.

She drove her knife into the infected's temple, then kicked the fence post off Ellie. "Get up," she growled.

Ellie scrambled to her feet, shaking. "You—"

"Move."

Leila didn't wait for her to respond. She ran.

They reached the tree line moments later, the horde breaking through the neighborhood behind them. But the trees gave them cover. The darkness swallowed them whole.

They had made it.

For now.

As the group gathered their breath, Jace looked at Leila, something unreadable in his eyes. "Why did you help her?"

Leila met his gaze. "Because I'm not like you."

Jace didn't respond. But she saw it—the flicker of something behind his mask. Recognition. Or maybe, the first spark of fear.

Leila turned away. They weren't safe yet.

They pushed deeper into the woods, their steps heavy and uneven, exhaustion pressing down on them. The silence of the forest was eerie, unnatural. No birds. No distant hum of traffic. Just the whisper of wind through the trees and the occasional snap of a branch beneath their feet.

Mark pulled out a small flashlight, flicking it on and scanning the area. "We need to find shelter," he muttered. "We can't keep moving like this all night."

"There's a clearing ahead," Leila said. She had scouted this area before. "If we keep heading north, we'll reach it. We can set up camp there for the night."

Darren nodded. "Agreed. But we need to keep quiet. We don't know how far the infected will track us."

They moved quickly, winding through the trees. The clearing was just as Leila remembered—wide, open, with an abandoned fire pit in the center. It would do for now.

By the time they reached the clearing, exhaustion had settled into their bones. Fiona slumped against a tree, rubbing at her sore ankle, while Mark and Darren worked to set up a temporary shelter using debris and fallen branches.

"We stay here for the night," Leila decided, scanning the tree line. "We'll take turns keeping watch. Tomorrow, we move at first light."

Darren nodded in agreement, settling into position near the perimeter with his weapon at the ready. Jace and Ellie exchanged a glance but said nothing. They knew they had no other choice.

As Leila sat on a fallen log, listening to the wind whisper through the trees, she realized something unsettling—this was only the beginning. The world they knew was gone. And soon, trust would become the rarest commodity of all.