chapter 4 survival
"Where are you from."
"Atlanta"
"How did you end up down here"
..."My family and i, ...we were heading to Savannah to visit my uncle"
"We never made it".....
"I see"
" What about Mr. Where are you from"
"I'm actually from south Carolina"
"Haah, really? Why are you all the way out here then? It's like the middle of nowhere."
"I was an orphan. Never really fit in anywhere, so I joined the army. After that… I just wanted to be alone. So I came here."
"Oh."
"... Do you wonder"
"About your parents i mean"
" DUI (Driving under influence)"
"At least that's what i was told"
As the light fell and the cold slipped in, the groans in the distance seemed to stretch endlessly, like a chorus of the damned echoing through the empty streets. The wind howled through the broken windows, carrying with it the scent of rot and old blood.
Reaching into the drawer, he felt the familiar weight of the pistol—a .45 ACP. Cold steel met his fingertips, comforting in its deadly promise. He pulled it free, checking the magazine with a practiced hand.
Click. Click.
"Eight bullets left," he muttered under his breath, the words hanging in the frigid air like smoke.
Not enough.
Never enough.
His eyes flicked toward the door, where faint shadows danced beneath the crack. They were getting closer. Each groan, each shuffling footstep outside, gnawed at his nerves.
The safety was already off.
If they came, he'd make every shot count.
He drew in a slow, steady breath, trying to calm the rapid thump of his heart. His finger hovered near the trigger as he whispered to himself—a habit that had kept him sane for this long.
"Keep it together. You've been through worse."
______
The morning sun shined brighter than the last, its golden rays slicing through the broken blinds and painting stripes across the dusty floor. The atmosphere felt rigid but hopeful, like the world itself was unsure whether to break or to heal.
Outside, the trees danced in the wind, their leaves rustling in soft conversation. The breeze carried a crispness that hinted at the changing season — a reminder that even in ruin, life stubbornly continued.
For a moment, he let himself breathe it in. The warmth on his skin, the gentle sway of nature, the fleeting illusion of normalcy.
But beyond the treeline, faint groans still rose like ghosts in the distance. The dead never slept, but today… today they felt far away. He allowed himself a small sip of comfort.
Stretching his stiff limbs, he glanced over at the makeshift barricade he'd built the night before. Still holding. For now.
Making sure not to wake sarah, he grabs a empty duffel bag and closes the door on his way out.
____
Sarah Pov:
The soft click of the door closing pulled her from the edge of sleep. Eyes still closed, she listened to his fading footsteps outside, the quiet rhythm growing distant.
He was gone again.
Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the warm golden light that sliced through the blinds. The morning sun painted the room in gentle hues of amber and gold — almost beautiful, if not for the world beyond these walls.
For a moment, she simply lay there, staring up at the cracked ceiling, listening. The faint groans of the dead, ever present but distant, hummed like background noise. It was never truly quiet anymore. Silence was a thing of the past.
She hugged the blanket closer, the fabric rough against her skin.when he left to scavenge, the anxiety chewed at her from the inside like a slow, constant rot.
What if he doesn't come back?
The thought hit her when he left. She tried not to dwell on it, but it was there. Looming. Heavy.
Her eyes drifted toward the barricaded windows, the nails he had driven into the boards, the makeshift locks and furniture stacked at every entrance. His work. His promise is to keep her safe.
She whispered to the empty room, as if speaking would keep him safe out there.
"Please be careful…"
Pushing herself up slowly, Sarah rubbed the sleep from her face and glanced around the small, cluttered space. The supplies were running low.
Her stomach growled softly, but she ignored it, With a sigh, she stood, wrapping her arms around herself as she approached the window. She peeked through a small crack in the boards, just enough to see the wind push against the trees and watch the distant streets lying in still, dangerous silence.
Every shadow looked like movement.
Every gust sounded like footsteps.
Every second felt endless.
All she could do now was wait.
____
The hours dragged like chains around her ankles.
She had paced, sat, stood by the window, and paced again. Still no sign of him. The world outside remained eerily still — but that kind of stillness always carried danger.
A curdled scream was heard a few rooms over.
"Ahhhhhhhh!"
Sarah's eyes popped open with awareness, knowing the only other people here were herself and two others.
Heart pounding, she grabbed the knife Marcel had given her, clutching the handle so tightly her knuckles whitened. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward the other room, feet slapping softly against the worn wooden floor.
The door was ajar.
With a trembling breath, she pushed it open.
Inside, the dim light revealed a horrifying scene: one of the survivors they had meet irene- irene was pinned against the wall — a walker gnawing viciously at her arm. Blood splattered the floor in thick, wet streaks. Her eyes rolled back, lips trembling as her scream weakened into desperate gurgles.
Sarah's breath hitched.
The walker's head jerked up, alerted by the sudden movement. Milky white eyes locked onto her, its bloodstained jaw slack with hunger.
Her instincts screamed at her to run.
But something else rooted her in place — the thought of Marcel, the knife in her grip, and the fragile safety they were trying to build here.
The walker staggered forward, snarling, arms outstretched.
With a shaky step back, Sarah braced herself. She raised the knife, her hands trembling but her grip firm.
"Come on…" she whispered, her voice cracking.
As the creature lunged, she sidestepped — barely — and drove the blade into its temple with every ounce of strength she could muster.
A sickening crunch echoed in the room.
The walker crumpled instantly, collapsing to the blood-slick floor. Sarah stumbled back, gasping for air, her chest heaving.
Irene slumped to the floor, barely conscious, his breath shallow.
Tears welled in her eyes. "Oh God… irene…"
But even as she crouched beside irene, she saw it — the bite was deep. The infection had already taken hold.
She reached for sarah weakly, her voice a rasp. "Don't… let me turn… please…"
Sarah's stomach twisted into knots.
"I... I... I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible, breaking under the weight of what was being asked of her. The knife trembled in her grip as hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
Irene glazed eyes pleaded with her, every shallow breath weaker than the last. "Please... Sarah... don't let me become one of them."
With what little strength she had left, she turned and bolted — stumbling through the doorway, She slammed the door shut behind her, leaning her full weight against it as her chest heaved with panicked breaths.
Thump.
The knife slipped from her trembling fingers and clattered onto the wooden floor.
Her legs gave out and she slid down against the door, burying her face in her hands as tears poured freely now. Her mind raced — Irene face, her voice, her pleading eyes — playing over and over like some cruel loop.
Outside her door, she could still hear the wet, ragged breathing. Irene was still alive — for now. But not for much longer.
Bang.
A weak thump echoed through the walls. Had she fallen? Had she died? Or worse… had she turned?
Sarah clamped her hands over her ears, rocking herself as she whispered frantically, "Please… please let Marcel come back… please… please…"
The hotel had gone cold, unnervingly quiet except for the distant groans of walkers outside and the occasional shifting creak of the old structure.
Minutes felt like hours.
Suddenly—
BOOM! CRASH!
"SSSHHIIIIIT!!"
The sound and vibration of the structure could be heard, collapsing, voices screaming
After awhile, voices could be heard
"They're coming — we have to go!" one of the voices shouted in panic.
"Damn, that hurt," another groaned, their breath ragged.
"We wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't thought you had to save the damsel in distress!" the first snapped, anger mixing with fear.
"Sorry… I thought I could help," the second voice defended weakly.
"Will you two stop? Let's get back to the others," Lee's voice cut through the argument, calm but firm.
"Lee's right," came another voice—steady, decisive.
"Fine, fine..." the first muttered, the frustration still in their tone.
Their hurried footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed by the heavy silence that crept back into the broken house.
Sarah's heart pounded as she stood frozen, hand on the doorknob. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop—but the voices, the noise, the collapse—it was too much. Curiosity gnawed at her, stronger than fear.
Slowly, she turned the knob and cracked the door open.
Her breath caught in her throat.
What once was a corner of the complex was now nothing but ruin. The floor had caved in completely, dragging chunks of the upper floor and roof with it. Support beams jutted out like broken bones, twisted metal and shattered glass littered the debris. A thick layer of dust hovered in the air, swirling like fog in the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the roof.
The distant groans of walkers mingled with the creaking of weakened walls. The air reeked of splintered wood, wet concrete, and the faint, coppery scent of blood.
Sarah clutched the doorframe, her knuckles white. Her eyes darted to a twisted heap of broken furniture at the edge of the collapse—had someone fallen? Were they hurt?
Her pulse quickened again as faint movement caught her eye in the distance, past the rubble — figures shambling, slow but deliberate, drawn toward the noise.
The dead.
Drawn by the collapse, they emerged from the treeline like shadows slipping from the woods — one after another, their forms staggering beneath the pale light of the moon. A few trailed off to the side, veering toward something — or someone — but it wasn't much. The majority kept coming, their numbers swelling with every passing second.
"Three… seven… fifteen… twenty-three..."
Sarah whispered her count, barely audible, the words sticking in her dry throat.
And still they came.
The street was slowly disappearing beneath a sea of rotting bodies, their grotesque forms jerking and lurching forward with single-minded hunger. Some crawled, their legs shattered, dragging themselves along the asphalt. Others moaned low, a hollow sound that seemed to vibrate in her chest.
A cold sweat broke out along her spine. She backed away from the door, letting it shut softly to avoid drawing their attention.
Her breathing grew shallow as she turned, pressing her back against the wall, hands trembling. The complex wasn't going to hold them off forever.
What could she do, there's too many of and the only other way out the back window, but.
"I even if i somehow survive the fall, where will i go" tears ticked down her face, faced with a decision that could cost her, everything
Her breathing grew uneven, throat tight, as she wiped her tear-streaked face with trembling hands.
The soft thudding of the walkers outside continued like a drumbeat in her ears. The pressure inside the room was suffocating — like the very air itself was closing in.
Her gaze darted back to the small window behind her. The old frame creaked faintly as the wind rattled it, almost inviting her to take that chance.
The drop wasn't far — maybe two floors at most — but even a bad landing could leave her helpless. A broken leg out there might as well be a death sentence. And beyond that? She didn't even know where Marcel was. If she left, she might never find him again.
Her mind raced — every scenario ending badly.
Stay, and risk the walls falling. Run, and risk never seeing him again.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, and for a moment she couldn't breathe. She clutched her chest, forcing herself to steady her nerves.
Suddenly—
A loud crack rang through the building, sharp and heavy like something giving way.
The walls shuddered.
Her head snapped up.
They're getting in.
The groans outside grew louder, more frantic — closer. She could hear the dragging of bodies against the outer walls, their nails scratching along the weakened wood. A heavy thud sounded against the walls, followed by another, and another.
They're testing the barricade…
Tears welled again. Her mind screamed to move, but her body refused to listen.
Marcel… please come back… please…
Then — another sharp bang, this time from the far side of the complex. The sound of splintering wood.
Sarah gasped, stumbling back instinctively.
They're inside.
Her chest tightened, panic clawing at her throat like sharp fingers. She wasn't safe anymore — not even here.
The sounds grew louder now — feet scraping the floor, guttural moans echoing, She could hear them coming.
No more time.
Her eyes shot to the back window again — her only option now.
She grabbed a nearby chair and shoved it beneath the window frame, climbed up onto the wobbly cushion, and unlatched the brittle lock. The window groaned as she forced it open.
The air outside was cold and sharp, biting against her damp skin. Below, littered with broken glass, scattered trash, and cracks in the concrete. Two stories. A fall that could break her ankle. Or worse.
But death was already at the door.
You have to move.
With a shaky breath, she whispered one last prayer under her breath, her voice cracking.
"Please… find me, Marcel."
She swung her legs out carefully, balancing herself on the ledge. Her heart hammered. The voices and groans inside grew louder, closer — they were in the next room now. She could almost hear their breath.
Closing her eyes, she pushed off.
The fall felt like it lasted forever — weightless, cold air rushing past her ears — before the ground slammed into her.
Pain exploded in her left side as she landed awkwardly, rolling through broken debris. She bit down a scream, tasting blood as her teeth clamped onto her lip.
Her ankle twisted, but not broken — not yet.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself up, limping toward the edge of the alley. The noises above still echoed — the walkers hadn't seen her escape. Not yet.
Moonlight guided her path as she slipped between buildings, leaning heavily against walls to steady herself.
Behind her, the complex groaned again under its own weight — more windows shattered. Wood splintered.
The safe haven was gone.
Now there was only the night.
And the dead.