Chapter 7 - Into the Unknown
Ethan woke with a start, the distant sound of something scraping against metal pulling him from restless sleep. The storage closet had provided some safety, but his instincts told him he couldn't stay here much longer.
Ash stirred beside him, its small frame pulsing faintly in the dim light. Ethan checked his supplies, making sure he had everything before pushing the door open just a crack. The hallway outside was eerily silent, except for the occasional flickering of overhead lights.
He needed to move.
Ethan slung his backpack over one shoulder, keeping a knife in his dominant hand. With Ash nestled securely in his other arm, he stepped into the hallway, scanning for threats. The department store's upper level had been quiet when he first arrived, but after facing that intelligent zombie, he wasn't about to take chances.
Navigating through the abandoned store, Ethan's thoughts turned to the mutated undead. It had been unlike anything he'd faced before—fast, smart, and resistant to normal attacks. If there were more of them out there, he needed better weapons and a solid plan.
He reached the shattered window he had seen the night before. The city stretched before him, ruined buildings and abandoned cars painting a grim picture of the world's fate. But in the distance, something caught his eye—a flicker of movement.
Survivors?
Ethan squinted, his breath catching. He wasn't alone. But whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.
Ash rustled, sensing his unease. He ran a hand over its small leaves, grounding himself. "Let's check it out, buddy."
Descending the stairwell cautiously, Ethan kept his senses sharp. The ground floor was more wrecked than when he'd last seen it. Something had been here overnight, tearing through shelves and displays. He tightened his grip on his knife, muscles coiling in anticipation.
Moving through the wreckage, he reached a side exit and stepped into the open. The city air was thick, carrying the stench of decay and smoke. He kept to the shadows, making his way toward where he had seen the movement.
As he approached, a voice cut through the silence. "Drop your weapon."
Ethan froze, turning slowly. A woman stood a few yards away, rifle trained on him. Behind her, a small group of survivors emerged, eyes wary.
Ethan lifted his hands, knife still in his grip but pointed downward. "I'm not looking for trouble."
The woman studied him before flicking her gaze to Ash, who pulsed in his arms. "What the hell is that?"
Ethan smirked. "My secret weapon."
A tense silence stretched between them before she lowered her rifle slightly. "Come with us. We need to talk."
Ethan exhaled, glancing down at Ash. This was either the start of something good—or another fight for survival.