The door burst open with a tallic scream, slamming against the wall hard enough to shake dust loose from the ceiling. Damon steadied himself, crowbar raised, ready for an attack.
But nothing lunged.
Nothing moved at all.
A long hallway stretched before them—narrow, dim, and silent. The air slled stale, untouched for years. Old ergency lights flickered overhead, casting thin red pulses that made the shadows twitch.
Shadow stepped forward, nose working furiously. Ember followed, fur bristling, but her growl was softer—more uncertain than threatened.
“That’s... not good,” Lira whispered. “If even they’re unsure...”
Damon swallowed. “Stay close. Everyone.”
The girl limped beside Lira, clutching the woman’s arm as they stepped into the hallway. Behind them, another violent crash shook the storage room—the zombies in the duct smashing harder, angrier.
“We don’t have long before they break through,” Damon said. “Move.”
They hurried down the corridor, shoes crunching over broken glass and peeling paint. The red lights blinked like a heartbeat, slow and ominous.
At the first intersection, Damon paused.
Three paths. All dark.
All silent.
Shadow sniffed the left passage but backed away with a nervous whine. Ember growled at the right one, hackles rising, but not in fear—more like warning.
“Middle,” Damon decided.
“Why?” Lira asked.
“Because it’s the only one they’re not reacting to.”
She exhaled shakily. “Wonderful logic.”
They continued through the center hallway. Old maps and yellowed posters peeled off the walls—evacuation routes, tram schedules, faded public service warnings. All relics of a world that still believed safety existed.
Halfway down the hall, the girl tugged Lira’s sleeve.
“I hear... sothing,” she whispered.
Lira knelt. “Where?”
The child pointed to a half-open utility closet.
Damon tensed. Shadow stepped closer, sniffing. No imdiate growl. No danger signals.
Damon nudged the door open.
Inside was a radio.
A long-dead, dust-caked ergency broadcast console—the kind found in evacuation stations. Headphones dangled from a hook. The monitor was cracked, but the power indicator...
Flickered.
Once.
Then again.
“Is it... working?” Lira whispered.
Damon touched the dial.
A soft crackle hissed through the speaker.
Static.
Then—
A voice.
Weak. Far away. Broken by interference.
“...anyone... receiving... Sector Seven... survivors... holding... north gate... repeat... north gate...”
The girl gasped. “There are more people?”
Lira’s hand trembled around the console. “Sector Seven... That could be miles from here.”
Damon stared at the radio, heart pounding. “But soone’s alive. Soone organized.”
A thunderous crash echoed behind them—the sound of tal collapsing. The duct cabinet had finally given way.
“They’re in,” Lira whispered.
Shadow barked sharply.
Ember snarled.
The hallway filled with the first hungry moans.
Damon grabbed the radio’s receiver and shoved it into his pack. “We move. Now!”
They sprinted down the corridor, deeper into the unknown facility. The red lights flashed wildly as the undead flooded in behind them, their screams echoing off every wall.
Ahead, the hallway curved sharply.
Beyond that corner... another dark mystery awaited.
But it was better than the certainty behind them.
Their footsteps pounded through the Hall of Hollow Steps—
and the dead followed close behind.
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