Chapter 6

The moon cast a pale glow over the forest as Alex packed his belongings, the fire now nothing more than smoldering embers. He had slept only a few hours, but the urgency to move weighed heavily on him. The military depot could be his best chance for survival, and he needed to reach it before it became overrun by zombies or before anyone else arrived.

He double-checked his pack: food, medical supplies, bullets, and his knife. His fingers brushed against the communication device, and for a moment, he considered leaving it behind. It hadn't worked in months, but he couldn't shake the faint hope that it might one day connect him to a familiar voice.

As the first light of dawn broke through the trees, Alex set off, following the route he had overheard from the survivors. His senses were heightened, every crack of a branch or rustle of leaves making his heart race. The forest had an eerie quiet, occasionally interrupted by distant moans of the undead. It was clear that zombies were becoming more active, their presence in the area growing by the day.

Alex moved cautiously, making use of the natural cover provided by the dense forest. His survival in this new world had taught him to stay hidden, remain alert, and avoid unnecessary noise. Every step was calculated, every breath measured.

By midday, Alex reached the edge of the forest. Beyond the trees, a dirt road stretched ahead, partially overgrown with weeds, suggesting it hadn't seen use in years. According to the map, this road would lead him closer to the depot, but it also left him exposed. He scanned the area, listening for any signs of movement. The stillness of the air was almost too quiet.

He moved quickly, sticking to the side of the road where the brush offered some cover. The depot was still a few miles ahead, and the thought of what might be waiting there kept him on edge. He hadn't encountered any zombies for hours, but he knew better than to assume it was safe.

After what felt like hours of walking, Alex spotted something in the distance—an old guard tower, its silhouette barely visible through the thick fog that had begun to roll in. The depot. Adrenaline surged through him as he quickened his pace.

As he approached the perimeter of the depot, he saw the chain-link fence surrounding the area, sections of it collapsed or overrun by vegetation. The depot itself looked abandoned—rusted vehicles were scattered around, and several of the buildings had broken windows. But that didn't mean it was empty. If there were survivors here, or zombies, he had to be ready.

He crouched behind a rusted truck, surveying the area. The depot was larger than he had anticipated. There were several warehouses, a few small outbuildings, and a main building that looked like it had once served as a command center. From his vantage point, he couldn't see any movement, but he knew better than to assume it was safe.

Suddenly, a faint sound reached his ears—the distant shuffle of footsteps. He tensed, his hand gripping the handle of his knife. The noise was coming from one of the warehouses, the largest one at the center of the compound. He couldn't tell if it was human or zombie, but either way, it meant he wasn't alone.

Keeping low, Alex moved toward the side of the depot, staying out of sight. He needed to find a way inside without drawing attention. As he neared one of the smaller buildings, he spotted an open window. It was narrow, but he could fit through it.

With one last glance around to ensure no one was watching, Alex hoisted himself up and slipped inside. The interior was dark and musty, dust motes swirling in the faint light that filtered through the cracked windows. The building seemed to be a storage shed, filled with old equipment and crates. He moved cautiously, checking every corner before venturing further.

The shuffle of footsteps grew louder, closer now. Alex pressed himself against the wall, listening intently. The sound wasn't erratic like the zombies he had encountered before—it was slow, deliberate. Whoever it was, they were searching for something.

His heartbeat quickened as he weighed his options. He could confront them, hoping for a peaceful encounter, or he could try to avoid them altogether. The latter seemed safer, but he needed information. If this person knew anything about the depot's resources—or the state of the world beyond—he couldn't afford to let them slip away.

Making his decision, Alex moved silently through the building, staying in the shadows. As he approached the door that led to the main warehouse, he heard voices—faint but unmistakable. Two people, talking in low tones.

He peeked through the crack in the door and saw them—a man and a woman, both armed, their movements precise and controlled. They wore military gear, their expressions focused and serious.

The man's voice broke through the silence. "We need to secure the supplies before nightfall. This place is a hotspot. We don't have much time."

The woman nodded, her grip tightening on her rifle. "We need to get in and out fast. The others will be here soon."

Others? Alex's mind raced. Who were they talking about? More military personnel, or perhaps a group of survivors like the ones he had encountered earlier?

Before he could make a move, the door to the warehouse suddenly creaked open, and both the man and woman turned, weapons raised. Alex froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

From the shadows of the warehouse, a figure emerged—a zombie, its movements slow but deliberate, its vacant eyes fixed on the pair. The woman fired a shot, hitting the creature square in the chest. It staggered but kept moving.

Alex watched, breath caught in his throat, as the man stepped forward and delivered a final blow to the zombie's head, sending it crumpling to the ground.

"We need to move," the woman said urgently. "This place is crawling with them."

The man nodded, and together, they moved deeper into the depot, leaving Alex behind in the shadows.

He exhaled slowly, relief flooding his body. They hadn't seen him, but their presence raised even more questions. Who were they, and what were they after?

Alex knew he couldn't stay hidden forever. The depot was dangerous, but it was also his best chance to gather the supplies and information he needed to survive. And now, with the military—or at least some form of it—on the scene, things were about to get even more complicated.

He steeled himself, gripping his knife tightly as he prepared to follow the soldiers deeper into the depot. Whatever awaited him inside, he couldn't turn back now.