The wind howled through the desolate cityscape, carrying the stench of decay and ashes. Zara Kincaid adjusted her leather holster, her fingers brushing the cold steel of her handgun. She leaned against the cracked stone wall of a ruined bookstore, her crimson sweater dress a stark contrast against the gray backdrop of destruction. Her breath fogged in the air as she scanned the abandoned street for movent.
The apocalypse had turned once-bustling cities into eerie wastelands, and Zara had learned the hard way that silence wasn't safety. It was a warning.
Her earpiece crackled to life. "Kincaid, do you copy?"
Zara pressed a gloved finger to her ear. "I hear you, Bishop. What's the update?"
"East periter's clear, but sothing feels off. Stay sharp."
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"Sothing always feels off," she muttered, her eyes narrowing at the distant sound of shuffling feet. Zara crouched, pulling her handgun from its holster. The tallic click of the safety releasing echoed in the empty street.
The first zombie appeared around the corner—a grotesque figure with milky eyes and a twisted snarl. Its skin hung in tatters, and its movents were jerky but determined. Zara took a steadying breath and fired. The shot rang out, and the zombie crumpled to the ground.
"Too easy," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. She knew better than to celebrate. Where there was one, there were always more.
A low growl behind her confird her fears. Zara spun, just in ti to see a small horde shambling out of the shadows. She cursed under her breath and sprinted toward the alleyway to her left, her boots crunching on broken glass. The undead were relentless, their guttural moans growing louder as they gave chase.
She darted into the alley and slid behind an overturned dumpster, pressing her back against the cold tal. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she reloaded her gun with practiced precision. Peering around the edge of the dumpster, she counted six zombies—too many to take head-on without risking injury.
Zara's mind raced. "Think, Kincaid. You're smarter than them."
Her gaze fell on a rusted fire escape ladder hanging precariously above. She grabbed a broken pipe from the ground and hurled it at a nearby car, shattering the windshield. The alarm blared, drawing the zombies' attention. As they shuffled toward the noise, Zara leaped for the ladder, her fingers gripping the icy tal.
Climbing swiftly, she reached the rooftop and paused to catch her breath. From her vantage point, the city stretched before her—a maze of decay and danger. The zombies below clawed uselessly at the base of the fire escape, their hollow groans fading as Zara moved further across the rooftops.
Her earpiece crackled again. "You good, Kincaid?"
"For now," she replied, her voice steady. "But this place is crawling. We need to rethink the supply run."
As she stared at the horizon, a flicker of movent caught her eye—a shadow in the distance. Zara frowned. She wasn't alone up here.
"Bishop," she said, her voice tense. "I've got company. Human."
And for the first ti in weeks, Zara felt sothing other than dread—curiosity.
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