Darkness pressed against the shattered windows of the library. The fire had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the ruined bookshelves. Silence hung heavy in the air.
Elisa stood watch.
She kept her rifle close, her breath slow and steady. The others were asleep, their exhaustion too great to ignore. But she knew better. Sleep was dangerous. Sleep was death.
Outside, the Veil was thick. A swirling mist, dense and unmoving. It crawled through the ruins, clinging to the dead city like a curse.
Then she heard it.
A shift in the fog. A whisper of movement.
Her grip tightened. It wasn't normal. The undead didn't creep like this. They lurched, stumbled, moaned. They weren't... patient.
She stepped closer to the window, peering out. Shapes stood in the mist. Still. Waiting. Watching.
Her pulse quickened.
Then—one of them moved.
A single, fluid step forward.
A figure, taller than the others, gaunt and rigid, eyes faintly glowing in the dark.
It raised a hand.
And the horde began to move.
Elisa spun around. "Wake up. Wake up, NOW!"
She kicked over a pile of books.
Then—BOOM.
The first impact rattled the barricades.
The survivors jolted awake, hands fumbling for weapons.
BOOM. The doors trembled.
"Move! Get ready!" Elisa barked.
Marry gripped her crowbar. Marcus loaded his rifle. Dr. Castellanos clutched her bag, heart pounding.
Then—the door shattered.
And the dead poured in.
Marcus fired. The gun's roar filled the library. A zombie's skull burst apart, but another took its place.
Marry swung her crowbar, caving in a head—but the undead shifted, dodging the blow.
"No way—" she gasped, stumbling back.
"They're not attacking like before," Evelyn whispered.
Dr. Castellanos' hands trembled. "They're moving together. Coordinated."
Elisa gritted her teeth. This wasn't right.
The undead weren't hunting. They were herding.
"Back! Fall back!" she ordered.
Step by step, the survivors were forced deeper into the library.
Then the windows exploded.
Glass rained down. More bodies crawled in. No escape.
The undead pressed forward. And the survivors had nowhere left to go.
They slammed the heavy doors shut behind them.
"We're cornered," Zoe panted.
"No," Evelyn snapped, typing furiously on his wrist device. "There's another way out. There has to be."
Dr. Castellanos wiped blood from her face. "We don't have time. We push forward."
Elisa inhaled sharply, her muscles coiled like steel. "Then we hit hard, break through, and don't stop running."
Marcus checked his last magazine. His hands were steady. "We either go now, or we die here."
No hesitation.
No fear.
They were the last hope of humanity.
They could not die here. Not with the burden.
Elisa nodded. "On my mark."
The doors burst open.
Marry swung first—her crowbar shattered bone.
Marcus fired. A zombie collapsed, twitching.
Evelyn stabbed, pulling his blade free as another undead lunged.
Dr. Castellanos ducked past a grasping hand, eyes locked on the exit.
"Almost there!" she called.
They could see it—just a few steps more—they could make it.
They burst out of the library, hoped to get away safely.
But outside, the fog shifted. And it stepped forward.
The King of the Dead
It stood amidst the horde. Silent. Rotten. Watching.
It did not groan. It did not lunge.
It lifted a hand. And the zombies stopped.
The survivors froze.
"No way," Marcus whispered. "This thing—"
Marry's voice was hoarse. "I've heard rumors. A zombie that commands the dead. Like a king."
No words. No sound.
Just the rais of its hand. And the horde closed in.
Elisa clenched her teeth. "They're not biting."
Dr. Castellanos' breath hitched. "They're waiting."
"We don't have time for this," Marcus growled.
Elisa gripped the last grenade on her belt.
"Make it count," she whispered and pulled the pin.
BOOM.
The explosion ripped through the horde.
Smoke. Fire. Screams.
"GO!" Elisa shouted, and they ran.
Bullets fired. Blades flashed. They cut through, inch by inch.
Then—Dr. Castellanos screamed.
A zombie grabbed her, pulling her back. Its rotten mouth opened—ready to bite.
Then—Zoe was there. He slammed into the creature, Knocking it away.
"Go," he growled.
The others hesitated.
"GO!" Zoe screamed, shoving them forward.
Dr. Castellanos' breath hitched. Her lips trembled.
But she turned. And ran.
Zoe stayed behind.
The last thing they heard was his scream. Heart breaking screams.
But, the survivors kept running. The burden they carry as the last survivors kept them moving.
They vanished into the fog.
Elisa's breath was ragged. Hands shaking. She couldn't look back.
But something made her stop.
A feeling. A presence.
Slowly, she looked up. And in the night sky— saw a figure hovering above them.
It was unmoving. Silent. Watching.
The Traveler.
He had seen this before. Again and again and again.
He could help.
Just a little push.
But he didn't.
This world would end. Like so many before it.