Promise (2)

Cody's arms trembled, his grip still firm on the blood-soaked crowbar, while the haunting quiet after Lilly's demise hung heavily in the air.

His ears were filled with a persistent ringing, a dissonant echo of the horror he had just been forced to endure.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, the evidence of his sorrow mingling with the dark stains on his hands and the cruel metal weapon.

In the aftermath of the tragic deed, the weight of grief bore down on everyone.

Mr. Peterson, somber but compassionate, broke the silence with the words, "We should bury her when we're back."

Cody met his gaze, nodding in agreement. "Yeah… give her a proper burial."

With a trembling heart and trembling steps, he knelt before Lilly's lifeless body.

Struggling to bear the burden, he scooped her up into his arms, the memory of her warmth and laughter haunting him as he found his footing.

Aya rushed forward, eager to share the weight, but Cody declined her assistance with a solemn, "Let me…"

As the journey back to the bus continued, an eerie quiet accompanied their steps.

The rustling of leaves in the wind offered a melancholic backdrop to the solemn procession. Aya followed closely behind Cody, her presence a silent reassurance in this somber moment.

The weight of Lilly's lifeless form pressed on Cody's heart, each step a painful reminder of the burden he now carried.

Returning to the bus, eyes filled with shared grief, the group watched as Cody gently lowered Lilly's body.

A heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by Mr. Peterson's solemn words, "We will bury her when we are back. Find a blanket to wrap her body in."

Hearing his words, Ed wasted no time. He scoured the abandoned cars and soon emerged with a pink blanket.

With care and respect, he wrapped Lilly's form, his voice soft as he whispered a heartfelt, "I'm sorry," to the one they had lost.

Cody took a seat next to Lilly's body, Aya by his side. The bus gradually filled with the rest of the group, their eyes veering away from the somber sight.

Raven's apologetic gaze met Cody's, conveying his shared sorrow without the need for words.

Dr. Newton, leaning against the bus's wall, couldn't help but offer his insight.

"If it was sooner, we would've been able to amputate the arm to avoid the spread of the infection." His words weighed heavily in the air.

Meanwhile, Emmy settled little Ted down, and the child's innocent curiosity served as a bittersweet distraction.

Hayden, the last to board, gazed at the bloodstained wedge in the seat, where his pocket knife now rested.

A sense of sorrow gripped him as he whispered to Knox, "She used my pocket knife… I don't know what she did, but she used it."

Cody, overhearing Hayden's words, looked towards him. "She... she stabbed her legs so she couldn't walk around and hurt people. That's what I know she would do; she's that type of person," Cody said, his voice heavy with realization.

He then turned to Aya, a newfound resolve in his eyes. "I know now. You have to kill or be killed. I'm not afraid of killing biters anymore."

Aya nodded, offering a reassuring smile as she patted his shoulder. "I'm still going to protect you."

The bus's engine roared to life, setting them on the path back to the campsite, each passenger carrying their own burden of grief and an understanding of the harsh world they had been thrust into.

Stalker peered cautiously outside. Through the barrier of the windows, the distorted snarls of a biter echoed eerily as it limped by, casting an elongated, gruesome shadow in the dimming light.

The muted scene outside presented a stark contrast to the urgency building inside their sanctuary.

"We need to fortify this place," Stalker said, his voice carrying a firm determination, "and we also need to loot nearby stores for supplies."

As he spoke, his gaze landed on Sarge, who seemed momentarily lost in a reverie, his hands gently cradling an old photograph.

Stalker could glimpse the familiar figures in the photo—members of their police crew. His eyes softened momentarily, his thoughts veering into memories, but he quickly refocused.

Randy, who had been keeping a vigilant watch, met Stalker's gaze. "I'll rally up some volunteers for a supply run," he affirmed.

Stalker motioned to two familiar faces in the room—Jackal and Zoe.

"You two, we're going to gather a team. Start asking the survivors who's willing to step up." As they nodded in acknowledgment and started making their way through the room, a young voice piped up.

"I'm coming with you," declared a teenager, rising to his feet with a determined look in his green eyes.

His blonde hair, slightly unkempt from the recent events, caught the dim light. "Name's Zach."

Stalker assessed him briefly before giving a nod of approval. "Just remember: no heroics. We stick together, always. It's the only way we survive in this chaos."

Zach took a deep breath, his gaze scanning the gathered survivors, all huddled together, bound by shared trauma.

"Our families could be gone—lost to those monsters outside. I spent last night mourning. But today," his voice steadied with resolve, "today is when we fight for our survival."

The faintest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a glimmer of hope in a world rapidly losing its light.

Stalker's thoughts were briefly clouded by the cherished memories of his wife and daughter, the pain of uncertainty gnawing at him.

Recognizing the familiar look of distress, Andrew stepped closer. "I know that look all too well, brother," he whispered, his voice tinged with empathy.

Holding onto hope, Stalker murmured, "Milly and Sophia are out there somewhere. They must be safe."

Andrew, ever the pillar of support, nodded reassuringly, "We'll find them. They're smart. They would've taken precautions."

Stalker's expression softened as he found himself lost in their memory, but he was quickly pulled back to the present.

"For now, I have to protect these people. It's my duty," he affirmed with a renewed sense of purpose, smiling with determination.

Meanwhile, Randy had approached the dozing Sarge, giving him a gentle shake.

"Hey, old man. We're heading out for supplies. Can you keep watch here?" Sarge blinked the sleep from his eyes, a slight chagrin crossing his face.

"Of course, sorry about that," he replied, carefully tucking the cherished photo back into his pocket.