CH. 2
The question of how many survivors remained in the city weighed heavily on her mind as they moved through the abandoned office space. It felt like a ghost town, the only inhabitants the undead and those who had managed to evade their grasp. The numbers had dwindled significantly since the outbreak, and each day brought new challenges. The survivors had banded together, pooling their resources and knowledge to navigate the treacherous landscape of the city. The shelter was their bastion of hope, a place where they could rest and regroup. It was a constant battle to keep it safe from the ever-present danger that lurked outside. Each new day brought its own horrors, but also a chance to find more survivors. The network of cameras had become their eyes and ears in the desolate city, a way to watch over their flock and protect them from the shadows that prowled the streets.
They moved through the building, the air thick with the scent of dust and despair. Marcus had a map in his head, a mental blueprint of the city's layout. He had been a delivery driver before the world had gone to hell, and that knowledge had become invaluable in navigating the treacherous maze of streets now overrun by the undead. He led Penelope through a series of narrow corridors and down a stairwell that had been fortified with metal bars and concrete blocks.
As they approached the rooftop, the sound of shuffling grew louder. Marcus held up a hand, signaling for her to stop. He leaned against the wall, listening intently. "They're here," he murmured. "But they haven't found the stairs yet."
Panic bloomed in Penelope's chest, her pulse pounding in her ears. She could feel the vibrations of their footsteps, growing closer with each passing second. The walls seemed to close in around her, the air thick with the stench of the undead. She turned to run, her eyes wide with terror. But Marcus's firm grip on her arm held her in place.
"Penelope," he whispered urgently. "You can't go back out there. They'll find you."
Her eyes searched his, desperation etched into every line of her face. "But if they find the shelter..."
Marcus's grip tightened, his expression grim. "It's better them finding us out here, than leading them to the others." He pushed open a door, revealing a rooftop littered with debris and shadows. The wind whipped at their clothes, carrying with it the distant cries of the undead. "We fight here, we die here, but we don't let them find the shelter."
Penelope nodded, her fear turning to resolve. She knew the stakes were high, and she wasn't about to let her newfound family down. She gripped the knife tighter in her hand, the cold metal a comforting weight. Marcus pulled out a makeshift crossbow, the string taut and ready to be drawn. They were outnumbered and outmatched, but they had one thing the undead didn't: the will to survive.
They stepped out onto the rooftop, the wind biting at their faces. The moon cast a pale light over the cityscape, illuminating the hordes of undead that had gathered below. They hadn't noticed the humans yet, their focus on the building they believed held their prey. The air was thick with the scent of decay and the tang of fear. Penelope took a deep breath, willing herself to be brave.
Marcus gestured to the far side of the roof. "There's a ladder," he murmured. "We can climb down to the next building and make our way back to the shelter from there."
Penelope's eyes followed his hand, spotting the rungs of the ladder disappearing into the darkness. "But what about the guards?"
Marcus's jaw clenched. "We deal with them if we have to."
Penelope knew she had to act fast. The guards were relentless in their pursuit, and the undead were closing in from below. She couldn't risk everyone's safety just for her own. With a nod to Marcus, she made her decision. "I'll lead them away," she whispered, her voice firm. "You get the others to safety."
Marcus's eyes widened in protest, but she silenced him with a shake of her head. "It's the only way. They won't expect it." She glanced at the knife in her hand, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. "And I can handle myself."
Without another word, she turned and sprinted towards the edge of the roof, her lab coat flapping like a dark cape behind her. The undead below looked up, drawn by the sound of her footsteps. Marcus watched her go, his heart in his throat. He knew she was right; the only way to protect the shelter was to draw the guards away from their path.
Penelope leaped from the rooftop, landing on a dumpster with a metallic clang. The sound echoed through the alley, and she heard the unmistakable thud of booted feet on the stairs. The guards had found them. She took off at a run, her heart pounding in her chest. The streets were a blur as she zigzagged through the narrow alleys, the guards' cries of rage and the undead's hungry moans pursuing her like a grim symphony.
Her mind raced as she searched for a way to lose her pursuers. She knew the city better than anyone, having studied it for years as a scientist before the fall. Her legs burned with the effort of sprinting, but she didn't dare slow down. The guards were fast, their unnatural strength and speed closing the gap between them.
Thinking back to her days in the lab, Penelope realized that she had been relying too much on brute force. She had to be smarter, use her intellect to outwit them. Her training in physics and biology had taught her about efficiency, about the conservation of energy. She had to use her environment to her advantage.
As she darted through the streets, she noticed a construction site up ahead. The skeletal frame of a building stood tall, surrounded by piles of rubble and half-filled foundations. An idea took shape in her mind, a desperate gamble that could either lead to her escape or her demise. She sprinted towards the construction site, the guards' footsteps growing ever closer.
Her thoughts raced as she surveyed the area. The steel beams and scattered materials could be used to her advantage. Thinking back to her days in the lab, she remembered her studies on levers and fulcrums. If she could create a trap, perhaps she could buy herself some time.
Penelope darted towards the nearest pile of rubble, her eyes scanning for anything she could use. She spotted a long, heavy pipe and a few sturdy planks of wood. With a grim determination, she began to construct a makeshift lever system, her mind racing with calculations. The guards were getting closer, their footsteps pounding the pavement like a relentless drumbeat.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she worked, the cold steel of the knife a comforting weight in her pocket. She had to be swift and precise, channeling the knowledge she had once used to unravel the mysteries of the universe into a simple yet effective means of escape. The pipe was perfect, and with a few strategically placed planks and rocks, she managed to create a trap that would hopefully redirect their pursuers.
But it was too late. The guards rounded the corner, their dead eyes locked on her. Penelope's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding like a drum. She knew she had to act fast. With a silent prayer to the gods of physics, she triggered the trap. The pipe swung with a deafening clang, sending a cascade of debris and a cloud of dust into the air. The guards stumbled, momentarily disoriented.
Seizing the opportunity, she sprinted through the chaos, her eyes on the narrow opening between two half-walled structures. The guards regained their footing, their snarls of anger echoing through the night. She could feel their cold, dead gazes on her back, driving her faster. The gap grew wider with each step, and she threw herself through the opening, her lab coat catching on a jagged piece of rebar.
But it was too late. The fabric tore, and she felt a powerful hand grab hold of her ankle, yanking her back. She twisted around, kicking and clawing at the guard's cold, decaying flesh. His grip was like iron, unyielding and unfeeling. The other guards closed in, their eyes gleaming with the sick satisfaction of a catch well made.
Penelope knew that once she was in their grasp, she would become nothing more than a meal to them. The king's bite had marked her as special, but to these mindless drones, she was just prey. Adrenaline flooded her system, and she pulled with all her might, trying to break free. The guard holding her ankle roared with hunger, his teeth bared in a snarl.
And then, just as she started to give up, she heard it. An explosion rocked the area, the sound echoing through the alleyways like a thunderclap. The guard's grip on her ankle loosened as his head snapped towards the noise, momentarily distracted. It was the opening she needed. With a surge of strength born of desperation, Penelope wrenched herself free, the pain in her ankle a distant concern.
Her legs felt like jelly as she sprinted away, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The buildings around her blurred into a haze of grey and shadow, the only sound the pounding of her own feet and the distant cries of the undead. She didn't dare look back, knowing that the guards would be hot on her heels. The explosion had bought her a few precious moments, but she had to keep moving.