echoes between us [v]

Chapter 4(v) - Echoes Between Us (v)

Luke's POV<<<

The air inside the safe zone tasted cleaner, but not by much. We were walking along what used to be a hotel parking lot, cracked and littered with leaves, when a soldier raised a hand.

"You can't go further," he barked. His gear was too polished, gun too steady.

Grey didn't flinch. None of us did. But we stopped.

"Protocol. You need to head back. Your camp is assigned near the south wall," the soldier added, voice hard but not cruel.

No room for negotiation. We turned.

The designated camp wasn't much—a cleared area with tarps and scattered fire pits. But compared to the rest of the world, it looked like heaven. We dropped our bags. Someone, probably Jane, managed to start a fire using leftover fuel and a lighter.

Night was creeping in.

A small silence settled before the conversations started again. Low chuckles, mumbled stories. Jonah talked about his sister's obsession with frogs. Scarlett leaned on a metal pole, just listening, her blade finally sheathed. Grey sat close but not too close, watching the flames.

Jane's POV

I was wrapped in the gray blanket they gave out at entry, knees tucked to my chest. The others spoke quietly, the fire casting their faces in orange and gold. I didn't say much, but I listened.

I kept thinking about my voice coach, the one who told me I had "raw clarity." I used to sing every evening. Now, I wasn't sure what my voice sounded like anymore.

My eyes drifted shut.

Before the world fell <<

"You're rushing the third note again, Jane. Breathe. Let it guide you."

"I'm trying," I had laughed. "But it's hard with you staring."

"I stare because I see someone worth watching."

Now <<

A faint sound woke me.

Not the fire. Not the wind.

Voices. Raised. Angry.

Luke's POV

It started near the northern tents.

A man was yelling—"You can't keep treating us like lab rats! You haven't said anything!"

Another voice joined. Then another. A ripple of fury and fear rising in unison.

A soldier stepped forward, rifle down but firm. "Orders are to maintain protocol. We'll brief you in the morning."

"That's not good enough!" someone screamed.

It snapped.

A bottle flew. Then a fist.

Suddenly fists, boots, shouting.

People scrambled. Others ran. Someone tripped and knocked down part of a tent. Screams echoed. Confusion fed panic.

Then we heard it.

The growling.

At first I thought it was in my head. Then I saw the look Grey gave me.

Not imagined.

Undead.

The noise had drawn them. Maybe a dozen. Maybe more. Their shadows moved like crawling rot down the road, dragging hunger behind them.

Panic exploded.

Some survivors tried to escape through the gate. Others backed up into corners, clutching broken weapons.

And the soldiers?

They moved.

Fast.

Efficient.

Their formation snapped into place. Guns raised. Orders shouted. Spotlights beamed down from makeshift towers.

Pop-pop-pop.

Bodies dropped. The undead didn't even touch the fence.

It took hours.

Wave after wave. The safe zone shook with every bullet, every scream.

But by sunrise, it was over.

The dead didn't move.

And neither did we, for a while.

it was too fast.

like they were trained before the fall happened.