Echoes of the unknown [iii]

Echoes of the unknown [iii]

Chapter 6 iii

The noise from the scruffle must've carried. I could feel it in the concrete—the echo of chaos traveling farther than we ever wanted.

Scarlett said it first. "That... had to be loud."

She was right. Either the soldiers up top heard it—or worse, others did. Survivors. Scavengers. Or more of those things.

And they came.

First a pair. Then four more. Then at least six, dragging limbs but faster than expected. Grotesque variations of the ones we'd seen earlier. Limbs swollen or severed. Faces partly melted, like they'd been dipped in acid. One had glass embedded all down its chest like armor.

But what caught me most?

Each one was different. Like... like they were being tested.

The group shifted, forming a loose defensive line in the tunnel.

The first wave came fast.

Scarlett loosed an arrow clean into a runner's skull. No hesitation. Then another—double tap, center mass and head. Quick reload. Her face was calm, mechanical. Her stance—tightened shoulders, arched posture—was practiced. This wasn't beginner's luck.

Blair twirled one of the twin swords she carried and stepped forward into a lunge, ducking just as an undead lunged for her throat. Her blade slid through it from hip to shoulder, so clean it barely made a sound. Then she spun again, a sideways slash that took out the legs of the one behind it. The way she moved... she'd done this before.

Jonah stayed back, covering Jane, swinging his crowbar with raw weight. Each hit echoed against the concrete like war drums. Scarlett shifted to cover his flank. Jane knelt beside the fallen man we rescued, guarding him as best she could.

And then Grey...

Grey didn't move like us. He didn't fight like us.

He flowed.

He was a step ahead of everything. A lunge from one of the larger undead—he spun under it, sliced its tendons clean, then drove his blade into its spine as it collapsed. Another came from behind; he didn't even turn—just reached back and jammed his knife into its throat, yanking sideways with practiced force.

Scarlett was to his right. Their movements almost synced—like they'd trained together, though they hadn't. At one point, Grey ducked so she could shoot past him. Her arrow flew, missed by an inch, but Grey reached up mid-duck and redirected it with the flat of his blade. It hit home.

I'd never seen anything like it.

Three more emerged, snarling louder than the rest. One had claws. Not just long fingernails—actual claws. Maybe surgical. Maybe something else. Another had no eyes, but moved like it could smell us.

Grey stepped up to that one.

I watched.

It lunged—he didn't move.

Then, a single sidestep, a slash that disarmed—literally—and a stab that made it fold like wet paper.

The clawed one came at Blair. She blocked it with both swords crossed, and I saw her lips mouth something—not today. Then she pushed back hard and ran it through the chest. Twice.

I didn't even see Scarlett's last kill. Just heard the thud behind me.

Then silence.

All of us stood there. Breathing heavy. Slick with blood that wasn't ours.

Blair wiped her blade on her pants. "Well... that was cute."

Grey looked at the mess. "They're changing."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he moved again. Toward one of the open tunnels. "This way."

We followed, because arguing didn't matter anymore.

Up ahead, we found the room.

It looked like a control center—or what remained of one. Screens shattered, a few blinking. Consoles powered. Terminals active. Chairs scattered and overturned. Panels opened and torn.

I ran to one of the computers and started typing.

Logs. Access. Maps. Anything.

"Trying to find a way out," I muttered. "Or something we missed."

The others spread out, combing the room.

Jonah placed the injured man on a padded bench. Jane began checking for a pulse again.

Blair was at a cabinet, opening drawers, eyes scanning. Scarlett guarded the hallway entrance, bow still drawn. Her hands had blood streaked down to her elbows.

And Grey?

Grey stood by a locked panel. Staring at it. Like he knew what it was. Like he'd been here before.

He wasn't looking at the controls. He was looking for something else.

I glanced back at everyone.

We were a mess. Our clothes soaked with fluid—none of it red. Blues, blacks, something almost green.

Scarlett had a streak down her face, but she hadn't noticed. Blair was wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist, blood drying on her cheek.

And me? I kept typing. Because if I didn't, I'd think too hard about what this place really was.

"Guys…" I said softly.

They turned.

"I think this facility… it wasn't just shelter. It was a lab."

No one was surprised.

Not even Grey.