The darkness pressed in on Mara, her heart racing as she tried to peek into the pitch-black room. She felt the bloodless cement beneath her palms, and the moist air chilled her skin. Somewhere close, that deep, hollow voice had answered her call, greeting her as prophesied. Her palms itched for her father's knife, which he or she gently and silently reached for.
A shuffling of motion emanated from the nook. Despite the fact that her pulse seemed like it was about to explode, she tightened her grip and prepared herself. Whoever came here was unique among the furious. Extra controlled and particular. She sensed it in the way he moved: measured patience that made her feel like prey.
"who're you?" Her voice became hardly a whisper, but it remained consistent.
He did not offer a remedy. Instead, he moved directly into a slant of moonlight from a shattered window above, his face half-shadowed. She only glimpsed the faint sparkle of his smile, which was chillingly familiar, but before she could react, a loud, metal clanging echoed from beyond the cellar door.
The man's smile faded, his eyes darted towards the sound, and his stance changed to alert and ready.
BANG!
The door slammed open, letting light into the chamber. A person stood silhouetted within the doorway, towering and broad, holding a gun in his fists. He strode in without saying anything, his motions quick and deliberate. Before the other man could turn, the intruder's weapon was leveled, and a single, precise shot resonated through the small room.
The person in the corner slumped, his face locked with an unnatural smile. Mara flinched, surprise pouring over her as she met the gaze of her rescuer, a stranger with a stern countenance and sharp, assessing eyes. His stance became navy, his weapon was trained and prepared, and he appeared to absorb the entire situation with a single glance.
"Get up," he said, his voice low yet persistent.
Mara paused for about two seconds before jumping to her feet. Whoever this guy was, he had simply saved her life, and the urgency in his tone left no space for doubt. She followed him out into the alley, taking tiny steps as he lead the way.
They emerged into the commotion outdoors, where the enraged shambled through the streets, lured by the sound of his rifle shot. Without saying anything, he pressed himself against the wall, searching the road before motioning for her to watch. His motions were calculated and efficient, as if he had done this a hundred times.
They moved into the shadows, the stranger's eyes constantly scanning, his body coiled and ready. Mara's mind raced and her instincts kicked in, but his composure helped to steady her. He was trained to be who he is now. And, judging by the way he handled himself, this was not his first encounter with the infected.
After several unpleasant minutes, they ducked into a narrow alley between two buildings that was hidden from view. He became to her, his intense gaze fixed on hers.
"Nobody survives three days alone without training," he continued, his tone conveying both distrust and fascination.
Mara straightened and matched his stare. "perhaps I'm simply fortunate."
He gave a brief, unfunny laugh. "In my celebration, success runs out. Training does not.
She felt the weight of his words, a mix of uncertainty and projection. She knew he was testing her, looking for solutions, but she wasn't about to reveal her secrets to someone she had just met.
"Thank you for the save," she replied, avoiding his stare. "who are you?"
The man's eyes narrowed as he assessed her, but he did not offer an immediate remedy. His mouth stiffened, as if he were debating how much to tell her. Finally, he spoke. "Caleb. Caleb Rowe. "And you?"
"Mara."
He nodded, glanced back at the road, as if keeping watch. "Mara, I'm not sure how you managed to stay alive out here, but you're lucky I found you when I did." These issues are emerging. Getting to know. And you just met someone who could speak."
Her blood ran cold at his words. The prospect of the infected adapting, becoming something more than mindless husks, became too much to handle. But Caleb's presence, his unwavering self-belief, offered her something substantial to hold onto.
"So, you're navy?" She asked, unable to ignore his accuracy and command.
"Become," he replied curtly, his gaze still scouring the alley. "Most of us have left now. "But the talents... they stick."
She nodded, understanding the significance of his words. He has a gloomy side, a hardened side that has primarily resulted from loss. She felt a glimmer of camaraderie, but she didn't dare to show it. But not any longer.
"We have to flow," Caleb said, moving closer to the alley's long way end. "The noise will attract more of them. Stay close, and keep silent."
Mara fell in stride after him, her heart rate lowering as she matched his speed. They proceeded silently, Caleb leading them through the tight corridors and abandoned homes, his movements green and practiced. She noticed how he checked every corner before they looked to be in danger. It was clear that he had been prepared to survive in situations like this one, which she had only heard about or read about in her father's stories.
They arrived at an old, half-collapsed structure, and Caleb led her inside. He hesitated at the entry, observing her, and he or she noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, interest, perhaps even respect.
"So, what's your story?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Many humans have attempted to live on my own. Few people make it anymore."
Mara hesitated, feeling burdened by his question. She couldn't tell him everything yet. It wasn't about the notebook or how she'd sensed danger before it passed.
"I grew up with an army father," she explained, opting for the most secure version of the truth. "He taught me a few matters about survival."
Caleb's countenance did not melt, but she noticed a subtle change. "Explains how you pass. But out here, it takes more than just teachings."
She returned his look, her resolve tightening. "I understand what it takes. I've gotten this far, have I?
A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it faded as fast as it appeared. "You have." "For now." He moved past her and checked the room's exits. "However, this stuff is becoming smarter. If you want to live, you should stick with me."
Mara tightened up at the insinuation, feeling both irritated and comforted by his offer. She didn't want to save, but having someone like Caleb around wasn't the worst idea. She swallowed her joy, knowing that following her father's orders would only bring her up to date on the world scene.
"First-class," she said, crossing her fingers and speaking consistently. "however I don't observe orders blindly."
Caleb gave her a long admiring glance. "good. "Neither do I."
Their wordless ceasefire felt like a fragile thread, with each of them testing the other's strength. Caleb leaned against the wall and gave her a wary glance.
"Belongings you're not pronouncing," he finally remarked, his tone low but encouraging. "anything it's miles... it's no longer luck that's stored you alive."
Mara's pulse quickened. The journal felt heavy in her pocket, like a secret she wasn't ready to reveal. She forced herself to appear cool, her gaze steadfast. "Like I said... perhaps I'm just fortunate."
Caleb's gaze hardened, and a hint of frustration flickered across his features. "Good fortune does not explain how you knew to hide in that basement." Or why you're so calm when most people would be breaking down."
Her jaw tightened, and her mind raced. She couldn't let him dig any further till she realized she should trust him. "Look, I appreciate the help. However, I do not owe you an explanation.
For an irritating second, they stared at each other, the air dense with unspoken phrases. Caleb finally gave in and returned his focus to the door.
"Honest sufficient," he remarked, his voice calm but resigned. "But out here, agreeing with isn't something you take lightly. We remain together and watch each other's backs. You don't have to tell me everything. However, do not get us killed over a mystery, either."
His comments struck deeper than she imagined, reminding her of the cost of accepting the truth. Mara nodded, signaling a quiet agreement among them. She would retain her secrets, but she would fulfill her end of the bargain. For now.
They went silent, each engrossed in their own thoughts. Mara caught herself staring at him, noting how he carried himself, every action deliberate and controlled. She'd never encountered someone like him, a soldier who had plainly witnessed horrors yet remained composed.
Caleb's expression darkened as a deep growl resonated from the hallway outside. He lifted a hand, signaling for her to remain silent, his frame traumatized and prepared.
The roaring became louder, accompanied by the shuffling of feet and a faint scratching sound. Mara's breath caught as she recognized the regular shuffle, the awful, pointless march.
Caleb returned her stare, his eyes blazing. "live near, and don't make a valid."
She offered a quick nod, her heart hammering as he crept toward the door, urgent his ear against it. The infected were closer than she had ever been to them without a barrier. She grabbed the knife, its familiar weight providing comfort in her hand.
The
The door handle jiggled, producing a subtle steel clink that sent chills down her spine. Caleb motioned for her to return, his expression fixed, and in a whirl of action, he kicked the door open, swinging his gun up as the first infected entered the room.
Mara did not hesitate. She moved in tandem with him, her body reacting with a fluidity that shocked her. They fought aspect by aspect, with each flow intuitive, in a lethal dance of survival. Caleb's images were distinct and controlled, and Mara's knife made its mark with a ruthless efficiency she hadn't anticipated.
Inside the commotion, they forged a passage through the mob, their movements matching as if they had trained together for years. The enraged dropped one after the other, their useless eyes reflecting the last rays of moonlight.
When the room fell silent, Mara and Caleb stood back to back, breathing tightly. She looked over her shoulder, meeting his stare, and in that moment, she caught a glimmer of something to cherish, or something greater.
"You're not just fortunate," he added, his voice barely audible. "whatever's maintaining you alive... it's now not luck."
Before she could react, a faraway scream pierced the silence, reverberating throughout the lonely streets. Caleb's gaze stiffened, and his grip on the weapon tightened as he looked toward the entrance.
"Stay sharp, Mara," he murmured, his voice firm, but his eyes showed a touch of concern. "We're now not out of this but."
And with that, he went towards the threshold, leaving her with no cho
ice but to witness, her heart hammering as they stepped into the black street, the unknown dangers hiding just beyond.