The first scream followed them for miles.
Not from behind.
From inside the city.
Kael felt it like a hook behind his eyes—sharp, sudden, personal. He staggered, nearly falling as Lyra caught him by the shoulder.
“Kael—”
He shook his head hard, gasping. His hands moved automatically, frantic.
SOONE LEFT.
Eron turned, dread flooding his face. “How do you know?”
Kael didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
The air shifted.
Not heavier—emptier. Like a room after music stops, leaving your ears searching for a sound that isn’t there anymore. Far behind them, the calm fractured.
They heard shouting now.
Anger.
Panic.
Withdrawal.
Lyra looked back toward the city skyline. “It didn’t stop them from leaving,” she said slowly. “It punished them for it.”
Zombies began to move.
Not toward the city.
Toward the roads.
Toward exits.
Blockers.
They didn’t run. They didn’t rush. They simply positioned themselves where leaving hurt the most.
Kael doubled over, nausea twisting his gut. His vision blurred with flashes—people shaking, crying, clutching their heads as the invisible comfort was torn away.
Edges ca back.
Too fast.
Eron swore. “They were using it like a sedative.”
Kael nodded weakly.
AND NOW IT’S GONE.
They reached a farmhouse refuge—one of the few places still untouched by the new calm. Inside, a man rocked back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably while others restrained him.
“I can’t think,” the man scread. “It’s too loud again—make it stop—please—”
Zombies lingered just outside the broken fence.
Waiting.
Lyra’s voice shook with rage. “They’re offering relief from the pain they caused.”
Kael felt the pull spike again—not toward safety this ti, but toward resolution. The hunger was learning a faster lesson.
Comfort could be removed.
Pain could be returned.
Choice could be punished.
Eron pressed his hands to his ears. “This is how it spreads now. Not belief. Dependence recovery.”
Kael forced himself upright and signed with brutal clarity.
IT DOESN’T NEED EVERYONE.
JUST ENOUGH PEOPLE AFRAID TO LEAVE.
Outside, a woman stumbled toward the zombies, tears streaming down her face. “Please,” she begged. “I’ll stay. I’ll be quiet. I won’t fight.”
The zombies parted.
Let her through.
Lyra raised her gun, shaking. “That’s not infection anymore.”
Kael finished the thought.
THAT’S RELAPSE.
They couldn’t save the woman.
They couldn’t save the city.
Not like this.
As night fell, the screams faded—replaced by soft murmurs of relief as people returned, welcod back into the quiet. The roads emptied again.
Withdrawals treated.
Symptoms managed.
Kael sat by the fire later, hands trembling uncontrollably. Lyra wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.
“You okay?” she whispered.
He signed slowly.
IT CAN HURT THEM NOW.
ON PURPOSE.
Eron stared into the dark. “So what do you do to sothing people need?”
Kael looked toward the city, eyes burning.
YOU TEACH THEM TO LIVE WITHOUT IT.
Behind them, the hunger adjusted—
less gentle now,
less patient,
learning a new truth:
Safety could be addictive.
And pain was a powerful incentive
User Comments
0 comments from readers