CHAPTER 16: EXODUS

  Iberian Peninsula

  Two weeks earlier…

  After a long, brutal night in the freezing air—thick with the lingering stench of rot—and with Sebastian’s mangled corpse still lying in the cellar, none of us managed a wink of sleep. Only when the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon did we finally breathe in the fresh air.

  Then, without a word, acting like men possessed, Richard, Michael, and I stormed the first floor and opened fire at anything that moved. Even the zombies lingering aimlessly at the forest edge couldn't escape the carnage. Sebastian's transformation had set our blood boiling. Rage and resentment lodged in our throats like a stone; if we didn't vent it, we would have gone mad.

  Only when the slaughter pushed too deep into the woods—followed by a mysterious roar echoing from the distance—did we snap out of it. Back at the house, it took us half the day to clear the bodies—a task that would have been far easier if we had shown restraint and let them wander off on their own.

  Ogris finally crawled out from under a cabinet, trotting over to lick the toes of my boots.

  With a weary sigh, we placed Sebastian’s body atop a pyre of wood, straightening his head—the one I had snapped in a moment of panic the night before. The fire caught, roaring to life in a fierce yellow-red glow. It was the light of survival. Of the raw hunger to live and the refusal to stop fighting.

  From now on, I had to be careful with everyone around me. Michael. Richard. And Ogris—no exceptions.

  I didn't want to become cynical or selfish, but I knew those beside me had their own plans. Friendship had grown fragile, replaced by a quiet suspicion—a bond born of mutual utility rather than trust.

  A shiver ran through me as I thought of the blackened wound on my left arm. Vanstine, the trafficker, had hesitated before buying me because of it. Fortunately, it wasn't a zombie bite, or I’d be in that fire right now—a nameless corpse in the flames.

  Yet it unsettled me. For days it had remained dark, sprouting thin green filaments beneath the skin. No healing, yet no pain. What had caused this? And did it have anything to do with my memory loss?

  "Damn it..." I muttered, pressing my fingers to my temples.

  Every time I tried to claw at the past, searching for even a faint glimmer of memory, a crushing pressure tightened around my skull. Dizziness washed over me—icy arrows piercing my eardrums, splintering my mind from within. It felt as if my brain were being torn apart, ready to explode from overload.

  I had to force myself to stop. Forget the past. Accept a future built only on the present. At least I was still alive.

  "We need to leave," I said. It was the first plan I had initiated since joining the group.

  "Why?" Richard asked, startled. "Worried about food?"

  "No. Not with a cellar full of canned goods," I replied. "But this place isn't normal. Something is influencing the zombies. Don't you see how they gather here every night? This house was untouched for months. Now they're laying siege. Something is wrong."

  "Nick is right," Michael agreed. "I feel something lurking out there too. Like it's stalking us."

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  "Zombies aren't that smart," Richard said with a dismissive shake of his head. "They don’t plan."

  "And if they come back tonight?" I challenged.

  Richard frowned. "Then we leave tomorrow. And I’ll have to rethink everything I know about those things out there."

  Michael and I nodded. It was a gamble worth taking. An indescribable sense of dread gnawed at me.

  That afternoon, we reinforced the steel window grates and nailed heavy planks across the doors. If the zombies were normal, they’d lose interest at the first obstacle. If not... tomorrow would be a very long journey.

  The moment of the gamble arrived. The last rays of sun vanished behind a blood-red horizon. We retreated to the cellar and bolted the hatch with extra iron bars. After a meager meal of canned stew and beans, we killed even the dimmest lights. I wanted Richard to see it for himself.

  Ogris seemed restless; he hopped onto my cot and burrowed into the blanket, peeking out with silent, shifting eyes. None of us spoke. Darkness swallowed us whole.

  Grrr... A low groan broke the silence.

  The sound of dragging feet on withered grass reached our ears. They were here.

  BANG! BANG! Violent pounding hammered against the wooden door.

  "Do you believe me now, Richard?" I whispered.

  "Maybe they're just probing," Richard whispered back. "They'll leave unless they—"

  CRASH! Wood splintered as the timber gave way.

  "—get in."

  The groans were directly above us now—clear and distinct. Then came a multitude of footsteps, a frantic trampling as they began their search.

  "Nick, Michael..." Richard pressed a hand to his forehead and shut his eyes. "Tomorrow, we leave."

  At dawn, rifles raised, we pushed the hatch open.

  The house was wrecked, but empty. We packed only essentials, prioritizing as much food as we could carry. No more gambling with the future.

  We dragged the wooden boat from beneath the house and spent two hours repairing it before launching. The river was our best chance of escape. If luck held, we would reach the city of Astorm in a few days.

  Ogris hated the water. He hid under the stairs when I called him, but when he realized we were truly leaving, he panicked and ran after us, nearly plunging into the river before I caught him.

  Seeing the sadness on Richard’s face, I sighed and continued to row.

  Leaving home is never easy. Only when you're forced to wander do you realize how much that word truly means.

  There’s no place like it, I thought. And someday, I’ll have to find mine.

  We rowed relentlessly, passing through dense forests until the landscape shifted into vast farmlands. At sunset, I saw them—horses. Alive. Galloping through the tall grass. They were skittish at first, but once they realized we weren't a threat, they returned to grazing calmly beneath the fading light.

  Strangely, looking into their dark eyes, I thought I saw exhaustion. A quiet despair. As if their daylight freedom were only a brief relief before the long, restless night returned.

  Maybe that wasn’t their emotion. Maybe it was ours.

  Ogris barked in his half-formed voice, trying to assert dominance. His awkward “gao gao” only broke the heavy mood for a moment.

  By six, the sun had shrunk into a trembling red bowl on the horizon. We moored at a riverside fishing shack, keeping our gear on the boat, ready to flee at a moment's notice.

  The winter air was bone-chilling. We couldn't risk a fire. The three of us huddled together against the thin wall, listening to the wind howl outside.

  At midnight, Ogris began whining again, biting at the blanket and trying to pull it off us.

  "What are you doing?" I grumbled.

  Michael pulled the blanket over his head. Richard burrowed deeper into the dry grass bedding.

  Then the horses screamed. A sharp, panicked neigh cut through the night.

  Something was wrong. We peered out the window into the murky darkness. The horses were bolting wildly across the field.

  "We should go," Richard whispered. "Whatever that is, I don't want to meet it."

  "Hey!" Michael suddenly said. "Nick, why is there a red dot on your forehead?"

  Before I could react, Richard grabbed my collar and yanked me down.

  "DOWN!"

  CRACK.

  A sharp impact split the air. The wooden wall behind my head shattered—a clean hole punched straight through.

  "Sniper!" Richard hissed.

  "Vanstine! That bastard!" Michael snarled.

  Thup. Thup. Thup. Bullets thudded into the wooden walls.

  "They're coming!" Richard whispered. "Silencers. They're well-prepared—and there are many of them."

  "Why the hell would he risk hunting us in the middle of the night?" I asked, bewildered.

  Michael shook his head and let out a cold laugh. "Probably because of this..."

  He held out a familiar gray backpack. My memory sparked as I saw the glint of gold and gems inside: the bag that had cost Sebastian his life.

  Outside, the sound of footsteps and the low murmur of voices signaled that Vanstine's mercenaries were closing in.