Story 1218: Hunted by the Turned
EXT. INDUSTRIAL OUTSKIRTS – PRE-DAWN
The city’s edge was wrapped in a sick fog, the streets eerily still beneath gutted warehouses and collapsed smokestacks. Lena and the team moved fast and low, packs light, eyes scanning every window.
WARD (whispering):
“They’re adapting. Moving in patterns. Not just mindless anymore.”
BRIGGS (weakened):
“Then they’re evolving.”
THE GIRL:
“Or someone’s teaching them.”
That thought settled in heavier than the morning mist.
INT. PARKING STRUCTURE – EARLY MORNING
They ducked into a broken garage to rest. Lena checked Briggs’ wound—it had spread into his veins, black and twitching.
BRIGGS:
“If I turn... you know what to do.”
Lena didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
Suddenly—a screech echoes. Not an animal. Not human.
THE GIRL (alert):
“They’re here.”
From the garage's depths, figures emerged—not walkers, but sprinters. Fast. Feral. Eyes blazing with hunger.
WARD (shouting):