Zack's eyes snapped open, his grip tightening instinctively on the pole beside him. The room was still dark, but a sound had cut through the silence—low, murmuring voices, distant yet distinct enough to send a chill down his spine.
"Zack," Josh whispered, barely audible.
"I hear it," Zack replied, his voice low.
They both froze, straining to make sense of the noise. The voices were rhythmic but disjointed, as though speaking in a language neither of them recognized. Every word seemed to carry a strange weight, filling the air with an unspoken dread.
"Do you see anyone?" Josh asked, his eyes darting toward the cracks in the walls.
Zack shook his head, his vision cutting through the darkness as he scanned the corridor outside their shelter. There was no movement, no sign of anyone nearby, but the voices continued, growing slightly louder.
"I don't see anything," Zack said quietly, his tone uneasy. "But whatever it is, we don't want to stick around."
Josh nodded, his knuckles white around the crowbar. "Let's get out of here. Quietly."
The two of them moved cautiously, stepping over debris and avoiding any loose objects that might make noise. Zack led the way, his enhanced vision guiding them through the wreckage. The voices grew fainter as they moved further from their shelter, but the oppressive feeling lingered, a constant weight on their minds.
They had almost reached the edge of the ship when Zack froze, holding up a hand to stop Josh.
"What is it?" Josh whispered, his voice barely audible.
Zack pointed ahead, where several figures stood silhouetted in the faint morning light filtering through a large crack in the ship's hull. At first, he thought they were people, but as they stepped closer, the truth became clear.
Their glowing veins and lifeless eyes marked them as zombies.
"They haven't noticed us yet," Zack said, gripping his pole tightly. "We'll have to fight our way through."
Josh nodded, his expression grim. "Let's do it."
The first zombie turned as Zack moved forward, snarling as it lunged at him. Zack swung the pole in a wide arc, the jagged end catching the creature in the chest and sending it crashing to the ground.
Josh followed close behind, slamming his crowbar into the head of another zombie that had rushed toward them. The sound of the impact echoed through the corridor, drawing the attention of the remaining creatures.
"They're coming!" Josh yelled, stepping back as two more zombies charged at him.
Zack stepped in, driving his pole into one zombie's neck before pulling it free and spinning to take out the second. The sharp end pierced through its skull, and the creature collapsed in a heap.
Josh finished off the last one with a well-placed blow, breathing heavily as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Is that all of them?"
Zack nodded, his senses still on high alert. "For now. Let's—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as new figures emerged from the shadows.
The man at the center of the group was tall and broad-shouldered, his presence radiating a dangerous energy that made Zack's instincts scream to run. His clothing looked medieval in style but refined, with intricate designs etched into dark leather and metal accents that glinted faintly in the low light.
Behind him stood four others, their weapons gleaming with a strange metallic sheen. Long swords, halberds, and daggers—all crafted with a precision that suggested they weren't made from the same world as the shipwreck.
The man's aura was unmistakable—deadly, yet oddly calm. It was as if he were a predator observing his prey, not out of hunger but curiosity.
The man stepped forward, his sharp eyes locking onto Zack and Josh. He said something, his voice deep and measured, the words flowing in the same unfamiliar language they'd heard earlier.
"What's he saying?" Josh asked, his grip tightening on the crowbar.
"I don't know," Zack replied, his stance shifting slightly as he prepared for the worst.
The man spoke again, his tone softer this time, almost as if trying to reassure them. He raised a hand, palm outward—a gesture that could have been meant as non-threatening, but Zack wasn't sure.
Behind him, the others remained silent, their weapons lowered but ready, their expressions unreadable.
Josh glanced at Zack, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do we do? He doesn't seem like he wants to fight."
Zack's jaw tightened. The man's lack of hostility didn't erase the tension in the air. He wasn't sure if this was an ally or another threat waiting to strike.
"We wait," Zack said finally, his voice steady. "But stay ready."
The man's gaze didn't waver, his eyes holding Zack's as if daring him to make the first move.