Adrian held his breath, fingers steady on the trigger. His heart pounded, loud in his ears.
The supermarket was dim, shadows stretching across the floor. The four armed men moved with calculated precision, scanning every corner with the discipline of trained soldiers.
"Someone's been here."
One of them crouched near the fire pit, pointing at the bodies. "Not long ago."
Another man, likely the leader, narrowed his eyes at the disturbed shelves. "Still close. Stay sharp."
Adrian exhaled slowly. They weren't amateurs.
Rex caught his eye, silently signaling—Ambush. Take the leader first.
Adrian gave a barely perceptible nod. He adjusted his aim, finger poised on the trigger.
Then—
A guttural shriek tore through the silence.
Everyone froze.
A moment later, something slammed against the metal shutter outside. Hard.
"Shit. Infected," one of the soldiers hissed, immediately pivoting toward the entrance.
Rex took the opportunity, motioning for Adrian to retreat. They edged toward the back exit, steps silent amid the chaos.
The pounding grew more violent. Then—
The shutter collapsed with a metallic screech.
A flood of twisted, decayed bodies surged inside.
Gunfire erupted. The squad was forced into a firefight, their focus now entirely on the horde.
Adrian and Rex didn't wait to see the outcome.
They slipped into the night, vanishing into the ruins.
But they knew one thing for certain—
They had been marked.
And Freehold might not be the safe haven they hoped for.
—(To be continued…)