Meanwhile, across the ruined city, other factions were equally stirred by the mysterious crash.
The sight of the ship had drawn attention from scavengers and survivors alike, but many smaller groups had already abandoned any hope of reaching it. The crash site was too far, too dangerous, and guaranteed to attract larger, more violent players.
For the opportunistic factions, this was a perfect chance to let their rivals clash and weaken each other over the presumed "treasure." But for the more ambitious groups, the potential rewards outweighed the risks.
The largest faction in the city—a well-organized and dominant force—was already making preparations. Their base, a fortified military storage facility, housed not only the largest stockpile of supplies but also a cunning leader who had outmaneuvered countless rivals.
This leader now stood by a shattered window, gazing out at the distant glow of the crash site.
The area was unmistakable: a massive public park that had been overrun during the early days of the outbreak. Once a venue for music festivals and community events, it had become a death trap. The last known event there had been a sold-out concert, with over three hundred thousand attendees. When the outbreak hit, most never made it out.
The leader's voice cut through the tense silence. "What do you think it is?"
Behind him, his advisors shifted uneasily.
One of them—a grizzled man with the posture of someone who'd once held a government post—adjusted his glasses. "It's unlike anything I've ever seen. I worked for a three-letter agency, and if something like this existed, I'd have at least heard rumors. But…"
"But what?"
He hesitated, then said, "There's a chance it's extraterrestrial."
Another advisor scoffed. "Aliens? Are you serious?"
"I'm just saying—"
"No," the leader interrupted, his tone sharp. "It's not aliens. If I had to guess, this is military. Some undisclosed project that crashed and burned. A secret that wasn't supposed to see the light of day."
"Either way," another voice chimed in, "we need to act. If there's tech or supplies down there, it could tip the scales. But the park is crawling with walkers—and you know every other faction will be heading there, too."
The leader nodded, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. "Prepare a team. Minimal losses. We'll need a plan to get in and out quickly, before the scavengers or zombies overrun the area."
Behind him, the advisors began arguing over tactics, their voices growing louder and more disorganized. Suggestions flew: bait the zombies, use diversions, split into smaller teams.
The leader sighed, his patience wearing thin. With a sudden, sharp slam of his hand against the table, he silenced the room.
"Enough," he growled. "You have until dawn to come up with something feasible. If you can't, I'll make the plan myself—and you won't like it."
The room fell into an uneasy quiet as the advisors exchanged wary glances. They knew better than to test his temper.
As the leader turned back to the window, his mind raced with possibilities. Whatever had fallen from the sky, it was more than just a curiosity. It was an opportunity. And in this world, opportunities didn't come often.
He'd make sure his faction was ready—no matter what it took.
Back in the tall building where the trio monitored Theo's crash site, they were preparing to rest. It was early, but they needed to rise at daybreak if they hoped to return home in a single day. If they missed the window of sunlight, they'd have to find shelter elsewhere, and the city at night was a death trap waiting to spring.
Just as they were settling in, a terrible cry ripped through the silence, freezing them in place. The sound sent shivers down their spines, an instinctive reaction born from years of surviving in a world where such noises heralded death.
"Fuck! Fuck! Don't tell me—" The second member cursed loudly, uncharacteristically rattled.
"Don't panic," the first member, the most level-headed of the group, whispered sharply. "It doesn't sound close. Maybe some faction disturbed the hive. That happens all the time."
The third member, a self-proclaimed researcher and the group's most curious mind, was already on their feet, slipping on glasses. "Let's go up and take a look. We might be able to see something from the roof."
Reluctantly, the others followed. From the rooftop, the cries of walkers echoed across the city, blending into a deafening cacophony. The sound grew more intense, reverberating like a living, pulsing threat.
They all knew what the cry signified: an evolved walker. Specifically, a level three.
Over the years, survivors had come to fear and study these creatures. Unlike the mindless hordes, evolved walkers were anomalies—stronger, faster, and disturbingly intelligent. A level three could control lesser zombies, amplifying their speed and aggression while coordinating them with a cunning that rivaled human strategy.
These monsters were notoriously difficult to kill. Bullets were ineffective when their minions acted as shields. The only reliable strategy was to clear the area first, a near-impossible task when dealing with hordes of walkers.
The third member suddenly froze, their mind racing. "Wait! Give me the map!"
Using a dim red light that wouldn't attract attention, they pored over the map. The more they scanned, the more their face paled.
"What is it?" the others demanded, their anxiety growing.
The third trembled a finger and pointed to the map. "The crash site… it's in the no-go zone."
As they gazed at the unlabeled area of the map—the city center, which was so crowded with pedestrians that it was deemed suicide to enter—the faces of the first and second members collapsed. At all costs, survivors stayed away from it. No one who ever went inside survived to verify the rumors that higher-level walkers, levels four and five, were prowling deep within the zone.
The crash may have upset the delicate equilibrium that held the hordes in check because it had fallen directly on the edge of this area.
The second member murmured, "Shit," in a barely audible voice.
The third member's voice was a little shaky as they murmured, "Do you realize what this means?" "Everything in the area has probably been agitated by whatever landed there. And everyone who approaches them is effectively dead if a level three is in charge.
The second participant questioned, "Do you still think someone will risk it?"
The first participant gave a somber nod. People take risks out of desperation, even if doing so puts them in danger of dying. However, if someone does go, they will just make it harder for the rest of us to compete."
With trepidation, the third member adjusted their glasses and looked at the far horizon where the crash scene was located. "We ought to update our strategy. Now, a close approach is not possible. From a safe distance, we'll watch to see whether anyone else is stupid enough to take a chance. In this manner, we will be able to determine whether anything is worth putting our lives on.
The initial participant concurred. "Just a reconnaissance trip. No hands-on involvement until we get additional information. Do you understand?"
The second member moaned their agreement reluctantly.
---
Meanwhile, in the city's largest faction base—closer to the crash site than anyone else—the leader was holding an emergency meeting. The piercing cry of the level three walker had caused widespread unease among their people, and the noise had drawn even more zombies toward the base.
"What's the status?" the leader asked, addressing their head of security.
"Half the guards are on the walls taking out the walkers that are pressing in on us. It's going to be a mess for the cleanup crews tomorrow. The recruits are already losing their nerve."
The leader chuckled grimly. "Let them panic. It's good for them to feel the weight of this world. But don't waste manpower trying to fix their morale. Pull together the elites for tomorrow's mission. No one else. We can't afford dead weight on something this dangerous."
The security chief nodded. "Understood. Stealth approach only?"
"Yes. The cry of that level three changes everything. We'll have to move carefully. The mission is reconnaissance first and recovery second. If it looks too risky, we pull back. No unnecessary losses."
The room fell silent as the leader's words sunk in. Their faction had thrived under their guidance because of decisions like these. Pragmatic. Calculated. Always minimizing risk while maximizing gains.
As the meeting dispersed, the leader turned back to the window, watching the faint flicker of embers from the crash site.
"Something survived that landing," they muttered to themselves. "No ordinary human could have caused such destruction. Whatever it is, it's going to change everything."
Tension was high in the city as several factions got ready for the future. The draw of whatever secrets the crash carried was too strong for either party to ignore, even if they were aware of the dangers.
Unbeknownst to them, Theo Duskwood awoke deep within the wreckage. It was unclear if his survival was a blessing or a curse, but it was certainly no accident. Ariella estimated their chances of surviving as her systems stumbled to life.
Furthermore, the chances were not favorable.