SCENE — “Lukas and the Thin Ice”

  When quick thinking is the only thing keeping death from catching them.

  The forest thinned into a stretch of white nothing, a clearing buried under wind?carved snow. Beyond it, a frozen creek glimmered like a serpent of glass winding through the trees.

  Anna didn’t stop running.

  She couldn’t.

  The infected were crashing behind them— snapping branches, dragging limbs through snow, voices leaking broken mimicry through frozen throats.

  “Lukas—Lena—stay close!” she gasped.

  Lena clutched her coat. Lukas sprinted beside her, face set in grim determination, breath tearing in small, fierce bursts.

  They burst from the tree line—

  —and the ground vanished beneath Lukas’s feet.

  “Stop!” he shouted, grabbing Anna’s coat sleeve hard enough to yank her sideways.

  She stumbled, nearly dropping the lantern.

  “What—?”

  Lukas pointed.

  A patch of snow before them sagged. Beneath it, hairline cracks spread in delicate starbursts across the ice, shimmering faintly in the storm’s dim light.

  A thin place.

  Too thin to hold a grown woman carrying a child.

  Anna’s breath caught.

  Behind them, the infected surged closer, their moans rising in dreadful chorus.

  “We can’t cross,” Anna whispered. “The ice won’t hold us.”

  “It might hold me,” Lukas said.

  Anna turned, horrified. “No.”

  “Mama—look!”

  He pointed at a line of broken cattails poking from the snow along the creekbank. A natural marker of shallow water.

  And beside it— stones. Stable ones. Dark lumps beneath the ice where it thickened.

  A path.

  A child’s path.

  Lukas’s eyes flashed with certainty. “The ice is thickest on the right side—see how it’s darker? We go single file. We crawl low so we don’t break it.”

  Anna stared at the path, mind racing, weighing risks she didn’t have time to tally.

  A moan echoed behind them—

  “Annnaaaa—”

  Jonas. Closer than she thought.

  Lukas tugged her hand. “Mama! Trust me!”

  She had no choice.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Crawl,” she whispered.

  The three of them dropped flat, sliding forward across the trembling surface. Lukas led, testing each inch with his palm before shifting his weight. Snowflakes clung to his lashes. His small frame shook, but his focus never faltered.

  Behind them, the first infected reached the clearing.

  Their pale shapes spilled from the trees, moving in uneven lunges.

  One stepped onto the clearing snow—

  And the ground collapsed beneath it.

  Ice shattered with a violent crack. The creature plunged into the freezing water, thrashing. Its arms snapped at odd angles as it tried to climb out, but the parasite didn’t understand ice.

  More infected followed. The ice broke under their collective weight. Bodies sank. Hands clawed silently below, faces pressed against ice like pale fish.

  The water swallowed them all.

  Anna held her breath, lungs burning.

  Lukas pushed them onward.

  He moved slow, methodical, testing the ice with the caution of someone far older. His voice trembled:

  “Stay low… spread your weight… don’t stop…”

  Anna fought the instinct to grab him, to drag him back. Any sudden movement could crack their world open.

  They reached the midpoint where the ice turned darker—a good sign. Beneath them the frozen layer grew thicker, stronger.

  But then—

  A shadow fell over the clearing.

  Jonas.

  He crawled onto the ice, moving in unnatural jerks, head tilted, white eyes fixed on Anna.

  He didn’t see the danger. Or couldn’t understand it.

  His weight creaked through the ice. Tendrils pulsed beneath his skin. His jaw sagged open.

  “Annnaaa…”

  Lena whimpered.

  “Mama…”

  “Keep moving,” Anna whispered. Her heart thundered. “Don’t look back. Lukas—go!”

  Lukas surged forward.

  Just as Jonas lunged.

  The ice beneath him buckled— Shattered— Collapsed.

  But Jonas didn’t fall through.

  A tendril of hardened muscle snagged a fallen branch on the bank, catching him, holding him half-submerged.

  He thrashed wildly, screaming wordless mimicry.

  “ANN-AA!”

  Anna scrambled, sliding after Lukas and Lena toward the far bank.

  The ice beneath her cracked—

  A deafening sound—

  KA-CRUMP.

  It split like lightning.

  Lena screamed.

  They were seconds from plunging into black, freezing water.

  And then Lukas’s voice cut through the storm:

  “Mama—HERE!”

  He extended the lantern—the one Anna nearly dropped hours before. He held it over a stretch of pure black ice, thicker than anywhere else.

  Anna lunged toward him, shoving Lena into his arms. Together, they threw themselves forward—

  The ice cracked.

  Held.

  Cracked.

  Held.

  Held.

  H E L D.

  Anna crawled the last few feet and collapsed on the bank, dragging the twins against her chest, sobbing with relief.

  Behind them, the ice finally gave way.

  Jonas slipped into the water— arms flailing, jaw snapping, white eyes pleading without comprehension— then vanished beneath the frozen surface.

  Snow filled the silence.

  The storm swallowed everything.

  Lukas pressed his face into Anna’s coat, shaking.

  “I saw the cattails,” he whispered. “They only grow in shallow water. And the black ice means it’s thickest—Mama, I remembered what the Elder said about it last winter…”

  Anna cupped his face, voice breaking.

  “You saved us.”

  All three of them sat in the snow, breath coming out in small, white bursts of fear and triumph.

  Behind them, under the ice, pale shapes drifted deeper into darkness.

  Ahead of them— the white forest waited.

  Silent. Cold. Endless.

  But they were alive.

  Because Lukas had seen what others would miss.