James’s flashlight flickered, casting trembling beams of light through the suffocating darkness of the tunnel. The usual strip lights along the walls were barely functional, their feeble glow swallowed by the shadows pressing in from all sides. The damp air hung thick, carrying the faint, acrid scent of mildew and decay. Each step they took echoed softly, the sound absorbed by the oppressive blackness that seemed to stretch endlessly ahead.

  Beside him, Cenilera moved with a quiet grace, her eyes scanning the unseen peripheries. The silence between them was palpable, a living entity that thrived in the unspoken words and shared uncertainties.

  “Ever been down here before?” James’s voice, low and rough, cut through the gloom, momentarily disturbing the heavy quiet.

  “Once,” she murmured, her words as distant as her gaze. “During a drill.”

  James nodded absently, his grip tightening around the flashlight. “This tunnel used to lead out to the base of the hill. They smoothed the path, got rid of the incline. Easier for everyone to pass through now.” He flicked a glance at her, watching the way her features were carved in soft lines of thought. “Not exactly thrilling conversation, huh?”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said, though there was a hollowness to it. Her voice, soft as it was, carried an edge of something unreadable. Regret? Guilt? “Just… thinking.”

  James studied her for a moment before offering a quiet reassurance. “He’ll be along soon enough. Don’t worry about him.”

  But the way she exhaled, slow and measured, told him she wasn’t convinced.

  She shifted her stance. “How’d you end up here, James?”

  A half-smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Believe it or not, I was in college when all this started. Starting late, trying to make something of myself. Had a shot at being an athlete.”

  Cenilera turned her head slightly, as if trying to picture him in another life. “And how does that lead to… this?”

  “Survival,” he said simply. “When things went to hell, I stuck with some teammates. We grabbed whatever we could use—gloves, bats, hockey sticks. Stripped the leather for makeshift armor. If they couldn’t bite us, they couldn’t turn us.”

  She blinked, the ghost of admiration flickering in her expression. “That’s… clever.”

  He shrugged, though her words stirred something in him. “There were five of us. We stuck together for two years out there, moving from ruin to ruin. Then we heard about the wall. Two hundred miles to get here.” A dry laugh escaped him. “Hell of a journey.”

  “Did you all make it?”

  His expression darkened, shadows settling over his face. “All but one.” He hesitated. “Jason. He was… different. Could’ve been anything. A born athlete. Natural leader. The kind of guy everyone wanted to be.”

  Cenilera reached out, her hand a whisper of warmth against his arm. “I’m sorry. He sounds remarkable. I’m sure he’s still with you, watching over you.”

  A bitter chuckle escaped him. “Don’t go all spiritual on me, Doc. If he’s watching, it’s not from Heaven. God’s locked those gates, sent His monsters to clean up what’s left.”

  Her jaw tightened. “If Jason was even half as good as you say, then God made an exception.”

  James exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “He was more than good, Doc. He was a damn prodigy.” His voice thickened, raw with something unspoken. “He… sacrificed himself. Bought us time to get away.”

  A heavy silence settled between them, thick as the air pressing against the tunnel walls. Cenilera didn’t push him, didn’t ask for more. She just waited.

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  “We holed up in a house after he… after it happened. Thought we were safe. Solid place. Three exits, four if you counted the balcony. Took turns watching the streets, waiting. But then…” His jaw clenched. “We started hearing them.”

  Her expression grew still, her eyes dark. “Hearing them?”

  “They were calling to each other,” James murmured. “Their cries… they weren’t random. They echoed down the streets, answering back from miles away.”

  Doctor Cenilera’s voice was low, almost conspiratorial, but the flicker of a smirk hinted at an attempt to lighten the weight of their grim reality. “Before we had the walls, we discovered that covering ourselves in a revolting scent could mask us almost completely from them. But hearing? Their sense of hearing is otherworldly.”

  James scoffed, shaking his head. “They’re like… improved, primitive versions of us. Strong, fast, full of energy, with senses that put ours to shame—except for their blindness.” His voice hardened, tinged with bitterness. “And what are we? Barely surviving. There’s only a handful of us left here, and we can’t even farm enough to feed everyone. Potatoes… that’s all we’ve really got.”

  Cenilera’s expression softened, but concern laced her words. “I’ve heard things about the outer walls—rising crime, vandalism. People are getting desperate in the outskirts.”

  James hesitated, his expression shifting. A pause stretched between them, weighted and uncertain.

  Then, in a low voice, he said, “Doc… there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Her brows lifted slightly. “What is it?”

  He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, as if bracing himself. “The dead aren’t our only problem. There are… things out there.”

  A chill settled over her, creeping in like an unwelcome presence. “What kind of things?”

  James’s gaze turned distant, his voice dropping. “It goes back to my group. You see—” He hesitated, eyes darkening as he dredged up the memory. “We lasted a year together. No losses. Thought we’d beat the odds.” A hollow chuckle escaped him. “Then we went through a mall.”

  He inhaled sharply, as if the air itself carried the weight of what came next. “We were cutting across the ground floor, quiet as we could be, when Jason—our leader—heard voices up ahead. He crept forward, thinking it was survivors. Once we got close enough, he turned on his flashlight, and there was this… man.” James swallowed. “Clean. Well-dressed for an apocalypse, even. But he wasn’t alone. He was hunched over… eating a corpse.”

  Cenilera’s breath caught.

  James’s voice grew quieter, thick with something close to fear. “The man turned, and his eyes… they glowed red.” His fists clenched at the memory. “Then the shadows moved, and out came the dead. But they didn’t lurch like mindless corpses. They responded to him. Like pets.”

  Cenilera shook her head, disbelief warring with the instinctual dread curling in her stomach. “That’s impossible. No zombie can take orders. They’re—”

  “Mindless?” James finished bitterly. “Yeah. That’s what we thought too.” His jaw tightened. “But they obeyed him.” He paused, as if even saying it aloud made it more real. “And then, from above, his partner appeared. A woman—fast as lightning. She disarmed us in seconds, threw us down like we were nothing. And she called him ‘King.’” His voice grew taut, strained. “And when he gave a command… they listened.”

  Cenilera stared at him, searching his face for exaggeration, for some sign that this was just another survivor’s paranoia spun into myth. But James wasn’t the type to embellish. His expression was carved from raw truth.

  “You’re saying they were… sentient? Talking?”

  “Not just talking. Commanding.” His knuckles were white. “The man looked at us, grinning, like we were toys. And he said, ‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen any humans. I’ve been itching to test something out.’”

  A shudder ran through her. “How… how did you escape?”

  James’s throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing. “Jason. He was the kind of guy who’d throw himself into the fire for his people. He took his shot—swept the woman’s legs out from under her, pinned her, and shouted for us to run. We didn’t look back. We ran until we collapsed in some house blocks away, too terrified to even speak about what we’d seen.”

  Silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating.

  James’s voice was barely above a whisper when he added, “That was years ago. Jason never made it back.”

  Cenilera reached for words, some kind of reassurance, but James cut her off before she could offer a fragile hope.

  “Don’t.” His voice was low, strained, trembling on the edge of something he had kept buried for too long. “I watched my closest friend sacrifice himself like he was nothing. And I wasn’t man enough to go back for him.” His breath hitched, but he forced himself to finish. “He’s dead, Doc. Even if he survived that day, no one survives out there.”

  “But talking dead?” she murmured, still wrestling with the impossibility of it. “If they could be controlled, we wouldn’t be hiding like rats in a trap. We’d be safe behind our walls.”

  James’s patience snapped. “Doc, you don’t get it!” His voice cracked with raw emotion. “I don’t care if it sounds insane! It happened. I watched my friend lay down his life. And whatever we met that day—it wasn’t just a zombie. It was a monster.” His words came rough, choked with grief held in too long. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. “The reason I’m bringing this up—”

  Then, footsteps.

  The echo rang through the tunnel.

  Slow. Deliberate.

  James froze, and for the first time since she had known him, Cenilera saw fear grip him—not just the cautious fear of a survivor, but something deeper.

  Something wicked.

  The tunnel felt colder. The silence before had been eerie, but now… now it was suffocating.

  James’s hand went to his weapon, but his fingers hovered over it, hesitant. As if he already knew it wouldn’t help.

  Cenilera’s heartbeat pounded against her ribs.

  The footsteps drew closer, seemingly coming from every direction.

  And then, the light at the far end of the tunnel flickered.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Then—darkness.