Chapter 7: Into the Wild
The moment the door creaked open, a rush of cold air filled the warehouse, the scent of decay and desperation thick in the breeze. Ethan's breath hitched as the group stepped out into the open. The city was a broken shell of its former self. Buildings that once stood proud now sagged and crumbled, like the bones of a corpse long forgotten.
Leah led the way, her steps confident and purposeful, while the others followed in a loose formation, eyes scanning the surrounding streets for any sign of movement. Ethan hung back, his grip tightening on the crowbar. He wasn't used to the feeling of danger pressing in from all sides. The weight of the weapon in his hands didn't offer comfort. Instead, it only served as a reminder of how far he had fallen from the person he used to be.
The streets were eerily quiet. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath. The only sound was the distant groan of the wind and the soft shuffle of feet on broken glass.
Leah turned a corner, signaling for the group to follow. She moved quickly, but not recklessly—her eyes always scanning, her senses alert. The others mirrored her movements, staying close, but never too close.
Ethan found himself trying to keep up. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with the unspoken questions: Where were the infected? Why was it so quiet?
And then, he heard it.
A soft, guttural growl.
His body froze, and his breath caught in his throat. The others didn't seem to notice, moving forward as if nothing was wrong. But Ethan's instincts screamed at him—there was something out there.
Leah stopped abruptly, turning to look back at him. Her eyes were sharp, her expression unreadable. "What is it?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.
Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but then he heard it again—the unmistakable sound of movement in the shadows. The growls were growing louder.
He wasn't imagining it.
"They're here," he muttered, barely able to choke the words out.
Leah's face hardened. "Everyone, get ready."
The group immediately dropped into a defensive stance, weapons raised, their eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. The growls were now unmistakable, echoing down the narrow streets.
Ethan's hands shook, his pulse roaring in his ears. He had never been in a real fight. He had never had to face anything like this.
A figure staggered into view, its body grotesquely twisted, blood matted in its hair and clothes. Its eyes, once human, were now clouded and dead, but there was something almost familiar in the way it moved—slow, hungry.
"Don't let them get close," Leah ordered, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.
The infected man lunged forward with surprising speed, and the woman beside Leah reacted first. She swung her weapon—a heavy crowbar—straight into the creature's head. The crack of bone echoed through the street as the infected crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The rest of the group stood frozen for a moment, but only a moment. Then another growl echoed, this time from the opposite direction.
They were surrounded.
Leah signaled for the group to fall into formation. She grabbed Ethan by the arm, pulling him back. "Stay behind me," she ordered. "You don't get to die yet."
Ethan's heart slammed in his chest as the group tightened their formation, weapons ready. The infected were closing in, drawn by the sound of the first kill.
The group moved as one, pushing forward, clearing out the space in front of them with quick, brutal precision. Each strike was calculated, efficient. Ethan stayed close behind Leah, his eyes darting around as he watched them fight. It was like a dance, a deadly choreography of survival.
He watched as the woman with the crowbar took down another, her movements swift and practiced. He saw the tall man with the bandaged leg swing a pipe down onto an infected's skull, his face a mask of determination.
And then, Ethan's gaze fell on the last infected, a man with half his face missing. The creature lurched toward him, its mouth hanging open in a grotesque grin.
It was heading straight for him.
Ethan's breath hitched as the infected closed the distance, its stench filling the air. He had no time to think, no time to hesitate. His body moved on its own, the crowbar swinging in his hand as if guided by instinct.
The blow landed with a sickening thud, right across the infected's jaw. The creature staggered back, stunned.
Ethan's eyes widened. He had done it.
Before he could react further, the creature lunged again, its claws reaching for him.
He swung the crowbar again, harder this time, and the force of the blow sent the creature crashing to the ground. It didn't move.
For a moment, everything was still.
The group slowly backed away, giving Ethan a moment to breathe. The adrenaline began to ebb, leaving him shaky and disoriented.
"You okay?" Leah asked, her voice low but steady.
Ethan nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was lying to her, or to himself. "Yeah. I think so."
"Good." She looked around at the others. "We're clear for now. Let's keep moving."
The group didn't need another word. They turned, heading down the street with purpose.
Ethan stayed close to Leah, his thoughts swirling.
He had killed. He had fought.
And somehow, he was still alive.