Chapter 22: Marked for the Hunt
The alley seemed to close in around them, the once comforting silence now suffocating. Kael's heart raced as the shadows pressed closer, tightening their grip on his mind. His hand gripped the handle of the machete until his knuckles whitened, as if the feel of the blade would ground him, anchor him in the moment.
"We can't stay here," Luka muttered, throwing the last of their supplies into his backpack.
Mira nodded, her eyes darting between the rooftops and the alley's entrance. Her crossbow was steady, but Kael could see the tension in her movements, the way her fingers twitched slightly on the trigger. She hadn't relaxed in hours, and now, after what they'd just seen, there was no chance of it.
"Where do we go?" she asked, her voice low, controlled.
Kael took a moment to think. The figure had vanished into the shadows above, but they all knew it—or they—were still there. Watching. Waiting. The alley, which had seemed like a temporary refuge, was now a trap.
"We move toward the outskirts," Kael decided. "Too many blind spots in the city. If they're tracking us, we need open ground, a way to see them coming."
Luka nodded grimly. "And if they're faster than us?"
"Then we fight," Kael said, his voice hard.
He didn't have the luxury of fear anymore. Whoever was after them was calculating, waiting for the right moment to strike. They couldn't afford to be prey any longer.
Without another word, Kael led the group out of the alley, keeping low as they moved through the debris-laden streets. The last vestiges of daylight had disappeared, leaving the world bathed in silver moonlight. The ruins of the city loomed around them, their broken structures resembling the bones of some long-dead giant. Every sound seemed amplified in the quiet—every scrape of metal, every crunch of gravel underfoot.
Kael motioned for them to stick to the shadows of the buildings. The further they moved, the more the tension thickened. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being herded, corralled toward some unseen endpoint. The unease gnawed at him, but he kept his focus sharp.
Mira walked beside him, her eyes constantly scanning for any sign of movement. "Do you think they're after our supplies?" she whispered.
Kael shook his head. "It's more than that. This isn't about resources."
He didn't need to elaborate. They had all seen the precision of the figure on the rooftop. Whoever or whatever was tracking them wasn't desperate or reckless. It was tactical, intentional. That made it more dangerous than any of the undead they'd faced.
As they neared the edge of the city, the buildings began to thin, giving way to more open spaces. The air felt colder, cleaner, as if they were finally escaping the suffocating grip of the dead city. But the sense of being watched hadn't faded. If anything, it had intensified.
Luka spoke up, his voice cutting through the silence. "We need to draw them out. If we keep running, they'll keep hunting. We need to make a stand."
Kael stopped, turning to face Luka. He could see the anger and determination burning in his friend's eyes. Luka was right. Running had gotten them nowhere. But confronting their stalkers without a plan could easily end in their deaths.
"Alright," Kael said, exhaling slowly. "We draw them out, but we do it on our terms."
"How?" Mira asked, her voice laced with urgency. "We don't even know how many there are."
"We don't need to know their numbers. We need to catch them off guard," Kael replied. "If they think we're vulnerable, they'll make their move. We give them an opportunity, and we take them out one by one."
Luka grinned, a flash of grim humor in his eyes. "Bait them."
Kael nodded. "Exactly."
They found a small clearing just beyond the city's limits, surrounded by dense patches of trees and overgrown bushes. It wasn't much, but it would provide enough cover to set a trap. Kael instructed Luka and Mira to hide in the trees, their weapons at the ready. He stayed in the center of the clearing, a lone figure in the moonlight, appearing tired and vulnerable.
It was a risk. A huge risk. But it was their best shot.
Minutes passed, stretching into what felt like hours. The silence weighed heavy, only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Kael's grip on his machete tightened. His eyes darted between the trees, the shadows playing tricks on his mind. He knew the attackers wouldn't be careless. They would wait for the right moment.
Then he heard it—a faint sound, like the softest scrape of fabric against bark.
His muscles tensed. They were here.
From the corner of his eye, Kael saw a figure dart from one tree to another, barely visible in the moonlight. It moved with the same eerie grace as the one on the rooftop, quick and silent. Kael stayed perfectly still, his breath slow and even. He couldn't give away the trap.
Another sound—this time closer. A soft crunch of leaves underfoot.
Kael's heart pounded in his chest as he counted the seconds. Any moment now.
Then, a flash of movement—too fast to track.
A figure leapt from the trees, a blur of black and silver in the moonlight, aiming straight for Kael. But he was ready. In one swift motion, he swung his machete up, catching the attacker mid-air. The blade struck home, and the figure crumpled to the ground with a dull thud.
Before Kael could catch his breath, two more figures emerged from the shadows, their movements fluid and deadly. Mira's crossbow fired with a sharp twang, and one of them dropped, a bolt lodged in their chest. Luka charged the other, his knife flashing in the moonlight as he grappled with the attacker.
Kael swung his machete at the remaining threat, narrowly dodging a blade aimed for his throat. The figure in front of him moved like water, smooth and agile, but Kael fought with a raw, desperate strength. He ducked low, bringing his machete up in a powerful arc. The blade connected, and the figure staggered back, collapsing to the ground.
The clearing fell silent once more.
Kael stood over the fallen bodies, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his ears. Luka wiped the blood from his knife, glancing around for any more attackers. Mira reloaded her crossbow, her eyes scanning the treeline.
"Is that all of them?" Luka asked, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion.
Kael didn't answer right away. He crouched beside one of the bodies, turning it over. The figure was dressed in dark, lightweight armor, their face concealed by a mask. Whoever they were, they had been trained for this—for hunting.
"These aren't scavengers," Kael muttered, his voice grim. "They're something else."
Mira knelt beside him, her brow furrowed. "Who are they?"
Kael pulled off the attacker's mask, revealing a pale, lifeless face. The man's eyes were open, but there was something unnerving about them—a cold, empty stare, as if he had never truly been alive. His skin was smooth, almost unnaturally so, and his expression was devoid of emotion, even in death.
"They're organized," Kael said, his mind racing. "And they're after us for a reason."
Luka kicked one of the bodies, his frustration clear. "Great. So now we've got trained killers hunting us on top of everything else."
Kael rose to his feet, his mind working through their options. Whoever had sent these hunters wasn't going to stop. This wasn't a random attack. They had been marked.
"We need answers," Kael said, his voice resolute. "And we need to find out who sent them."
Mira stood, her crossbow slung over her shoulder. "How? We don't even know where to start."
Kael glanced back toward the city, its crumbling towers looming in the distance. "We go back. Someone in that city knows what's going on. And we're going to find them."
For the first time in days, Kael felt a surge of determination. They had been on the run for too long, reacting to every threat without knowing the bigger picture. But now they had a lead, however small. They weren't just survivors anymore. They were going to take control of their fate.
As they gathered their supplies and prepared to head back into the heart of the city, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that the true enemy was still out there, watching, waiting. The shadows had whispered their intentions, and now the hunt had truly begun.