Them

Alex checked himself in the mirror, shouldering his bag—another short weekend.

As the door closed behind him, the quiet lawn and street beyond lay stretched out before him. The early morning light cast long shadows, and the air was crisp with the promise of autumn.

Two blocks into his walk, he heard rummaging in an alleyway. A can clattered.

Alex reached into the dark depths of his bag, his fingers brushing against the cold steel of his machete. He had learned to be ready in this new world, where the dead walked because the living were few and far between.

A groan preceded the zombie’s appearance. It turned, shuffling forward, its eyes vacant and lifeless.

Out came the machete. It sunk into the soft skull with a sickening crunch. A spray of gore fanned Alex’s face and front.

He wiped the blood from his eyes and continued on his way, his heart pounding in his chest.

Three blocks later, Emma greeted him. “Looks like someone’s got…”

“Please don’t,” Alex groaned.

Emma chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Rough morning?”

“You could say that,” Alex replied, his voice weary. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the deserted streets. “Any news?”

Emma shook her head. “Same old, same old. The dead are still walking, and we’re still trying to survive.”

Alex sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

Emma placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. “We’ll get through this, Alex. We have to.”

As they continued their walk, the sun rose higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the desolate landscape. The once-bustling city was now a ghost town, its streets empty and buildings crumbling. The only signs of life were the occasional zombie, shuffling aimlessly in search of their next meal.

They reached the safe house, a small, fortified building. Alex and Emma entered, their footsteps echoing in the empty halls. The safe house was a haven for the few survivors who had managed to escape the horrors of the outside world. It was a place of refuge and a constant reminder of the dangers beyond its walls.

Inside, a group of weary faces greeted them. The survivors had formed a tight-knit community, relying on each other for support and protection. They shared stories of their past lives, their hopes and dreams, and the loved ones they had lost.

The days turned into weeks, and Alex and Emma settled into a routine. They scavenged for supplies, fortified the safe house, and kept watch for any signs of danger. The constant threat of the undead weighed heavily on their minds, but they found solace in each other’s company.

One night, as Alex lay in his bunk, he heard a faint noise outside. He sat up, his heart racing. The sound grew louder, a low, guttural growl that sent chills down his spine. He grabbed his machete and crept to the window, peering into the darkness.

In the shadows, he saw a figure—a tall, gaunt man with glowing eyes. The man stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the safe house.

Alex’s blood ran cold. He had heard stories of a new kind of zombie that was faster, smarter, and more dangerous than the others.

The figure moved, its movements fluid and deliberate. It approached the safe house, its eyes never leaving Alex’s. He backed away from the window, his mind racing. He had to warn the others.

“Emma!” he whispered urgently, shaking her awake. “There’s something out there.”

Emma sat up, her eyes wide with fear. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Alex replied, his voice trembling. “But it’s not like the others. It’s different.”

They gathered the other survivors, their faces pale with fear. They armed themselves with whatever weapons they could find and prepared for the worst. The figure outside continued to approach, its eyes glowing with an eerie light.

As it reached the door, it let out a bone-chilling scream. The sound echoed through the safe house, sending shivers down their spines. The door burst open, and the figure stepped inside, its eyes blazing with an unnatural fire.

The survivors fought bravely, but the figure was relentless. It moved with a speed and agility that defied explanation, its attacks precise and deadly. One by one, the survivors fell, their screams filling the air.

Alex and Emma fought side by side, their hearts pounding with fear and determination. They managed to wound the figure, making it angrier. It lunged at them, its claws slashing through the air.

In a desperate move, Alex swung his machete with all his strength, connecting with the figure’s neck, severing its head from its body. The figure collapsed to the ground, its eyes dimming as the life drained from it.

The survivors stood in stunned silence, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. They won, but at a cost. The safe house was in ruins, and many of their friends were gone.

As the sun rose, casting a warm glow over the desolate landscape, Alex and Emma stood together, their hearts heavy with grief. They had survived another night, but the fight was far from over.

“We’ll get through this,” Emma said softly, her voice filled with determination. “We have to.”

Alex nodded, his eyes filled with resolve. “We will. For them.”