The faint light ahead shimred like a tiny star in the suffocating darkness of the duct. Each crawl felt heavier than the last; the tal walls groaned under their weight, threatening collapse with every movent.
The girl wheezed as she dragged her injured leg forward. Lira kept one hand close behind her, ready to catch her if she faltered.
“You’re doing great,” Lira whispered, voice strained. “Just a bit more.”
Damon glanced back. The duct behind them pulsed with orange glow—the fire in the tunnel still burning, but dimming. The zombies wouldn’t be held back for long.
“We need to reach that opening,” Damon said. “Before they—”
His sentence was cut short by a deep tallic thud reverberating through the passage. All of them froze. Another thud followed. And another—closer, sharper.
Sothing was hitting the duct.
From the outside.
Shadow snarled, his ears flattening as he turned toward the noise. Ember pressed tightly against Damon, her breath quick and panicked.
“Keep moving!” Damon hissed.
The girl whimpered but obeyed, pulling herself toward the light. The duct slanted downward slightly now, making every movent faster but more dangerous. Dust showered them with each jolt.
Finally, the girl reached the opening—a square grid of weak daylight filtering into an old storage room.
Lira pushed the grate; rust crumbled, and the tal cover fell inward with a clang.
“Go!” Lira urged. She lifted the girl down into the room. The child landed awkwardly, but safely.
Lira followed, dropping to the dusty floor. Damon pushed Shadow and Ember next, their bodies slipping through the narrow fra with practiced ease.
But as Damon prepared to jump, the duct behind him buckled.
A rotten hand shot through a newly ford crack—fingers clawing blindly.
“Damon!” Lira shouted, reaching up.
He grabbed her arm and leaped just as the duct split open like a crushed tin can. Zombies spilled into the shaft, their shrieks echoing like tortured tal scraping against bone.
Damon hit the floor hard. Lira dragged him away as the creatures jamd themselves into the broken opening, snarling, their arms thrashing in desperation.
“We need to block it!” Damon gasped, scrambling to his feet.
The storage room was small—lined with toppled shelves, broken crates, and tal cabinets. No easy exits. Only one rusted door on the far wall... and the duct behind them filling with the dead.
Shadow barked, then lunged toward a cabinet. Damon understood instantly. With a grunt, he shoved the heavy steel unit across the floor. Ember pushed with her body, paws scraping as she strained.
“Faster!” Lira cried, clutching the girl close.
The first zombie forced its head through the duct opening—jaw snapping wildly.
Damon shoved the cabinet with everything left inside him.
It slamd against the wall, sealing the duct.
Silence followed—brief, trembling, deceptive.
Then—
BANG.
The cabinet shook violently as the horde smashed into it from the other side.
“We won’t have long,” Lira whispered.
Damon looked at the locked door. “Then we find another way.”
He grabbed a crowbar from the floor, wedged it into the door’s warped fra, and pushed with all his strength.
The door creaked.
Another BANG behind them.
The tal cabinet dented inward.
The door began to give way.
And as it finally burst open, dust swirling in a storm around them, Damon realized sothing:
Whatever waited beyond the door might be their only chance—
but it wasn’t necessarily safer than what hunted them.
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