Chapter 2: The Fall of Lahore

Part 1: Escaping the City

The sun rose on Lahore, but its warm light did nothing to wash away the horrors of the night before. The air was thick with a quiet that didn't belong in a city like this. No call to prayer echoed from mosques, no vendors shouted from the streets. Only the sporadic growls and gurgles of the infected broke the suffocating silence.

Inside the Alam family's house, Sajid, Majid, and Khalid gathered in the lounge. Exhaustion etched deep lines on their faces, but their posture remained rigid. The first watch had been a nightmare—infected hammering at the gates sporadically, unsettling noises echoing from every direction, and no end in sight.

"The barricades held," Khalid said, though his tone was far from hopeful. "But the gates won't last another night if those… things gather in numbers."

Sajid sat down heavily, running a hand through his graying hair. "We need to leave. This house can't protect us. If one gets inside…" His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear.

"What are you saying?" Subhana asked sharply from the corner, clutching Mehmood to her chest. "Leave the house? And go where, Sajid? The streets are filled with those things! We won't make it to the end of the block!"

"Do you think I want to leave?" Sajid snapped, his temper fraying. "But staying here is suicide."

Maryam stepped forward, her voice unusually steady. "There's a suggestion I have… There's a larger, reinforced compound I know. Khalid bhai, Naseem and I went there for a wedding once—it's closer to Bedian Road. Thick walls, gates big enough to hold. Maybe we can shelter there until we find a better plan."

Bedian Road. It was risky but feasible. Khalid nodded slowly. "It's far. The streets won't be safe."

"It doesn't matter if it's risky!" Muhammad interrupted. He stood by the window, looking over his younger cousins huddled in the far corner of the room. "Ammi, do you think this place can protect everyone? Mohid, Afeef, Asmir? If the infected burst in…"

Subhana didn't respond. Her fingers tightened protectively around Mehmood.

The sound of breaking glass shattered the tense discussion. Everyone froze, their heads snapping toward the source: one of the upstairs windows.

"They're inside!" Shazia screamed, yanking her sons toward her.

"No," Zaid said quickly, standing near the stairs. "It's not them. It's Ahmed—he's coming down."

The sound of quick, heavy footsteps echoed as Ahmed descended the stairs, holding a large stick. His face was pale and drawn, his body shaking with adrenaline. "We're not staying here," he said through ragged breaths. "There's smoke everywhere from the fires outside. People are running—zombies, people, everything. This house is a death trap."

"We know, Ahmed," Khalid said tersely, stepping toward him. "We're trying to decide where to go."

"I wasn't asking for a discussion," Ahmed snapped, his wild eyes scanning the room. "Do you know what I saw from up there? They're tearing open doors like paper! If we don't leave now, we'll be next!"

"Watch your tone," Sajid said with a warning growl, though Ahmed barely flinched.

"You think tone matters right now?" Ahmed shot back, gripping the stick tighter. "Fine, stay here. But I'm going. Anyone who wants to live should come with me."

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, no one moved. Then Muhammad spoke.

"No one is splitting up," he said firmly, stepping between Ahmed and the rest of the family. "Do you hear me? I don't care how bad this is. We stick together. That's the only way we make it."

"I'll die if I stay," Ahmed replied coldly. His fear had shifted into something sharp and reckless. Without waiting for anyone's permission, he started for the front door.

"Ahmed!" Majid barked, grabbing him by the arm. "You're not thinking clearly—"

"I'm thinking clearer than all of you!" Ahmed snarled, breaking free. "If you want to wait here and die, be my guest!"

Before anyone could stop him, he unlatched the door, throwing it open. The silence outside broke instantly as snarls and growls filled the air.

"Ahmed, close it!" Khalid shouted, surging forward.

But it was too late. Ahmed froze at the threshold, face draining of color as two figures—barely human—lurched forward from the shadows. One was missing half its torso, its legs dragging uselessly behind it. The other moved with terrifying speed, its jaw unhinged like a predator's.

"Ahmed, get back!" Muhammad shouted, rushing forward.

Ahmed swung the stick wildly, but he was already too close. The faster of the two infected pounced, driving its teeth into his forearm. Blood sprayed across the doorframe, and Ahmed screamed in agony.

Sajid and Muhammad pulled him back just as Khalid slammed the door shut, locking it with trembling hands. The infected outside slammed their bodies against the gate, their snarls growing more desperate.

Ahmed slumped to the floor, cradling his bloodied arm as his breathing grew rapid and shallow. His eyes darted around the room wildly, his face twisted with fear. "Don't let me… don't let me turn," he choked out.

"We don't know if you'll turn!" Subhana cried, her voice breaking.

"We do know," Naseem whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. "We've all seen it on the news. A bite means it's over."

"No," Zaid protested, shaking his head. "There has to be another way. We can clean it—treat it!"

"There isn't time," Khalid said, stepping forward with a grim look. His wrench was still in his hand, and he looked at Sajid for approval.

"Don't," Muhammad said, his voice shaking. He stood between Khalid and Ahmed, his fists clenched. "He's still here. He's still one of us."

"He won't be for long," Khalid replied quietly. "And if you love him, Muhammad, you won't let him become… one of them."

Tears ran down Muhammad's face as he looked back at his cousin. Ahmed's trembling lips formed one last word: "Please."

The room seemed frozen in time. Khalid raised the wrench. The sound that followed was loud and final.

Part 2: Leaving Home

The silence that followed Khalid's swing was suffocating. Ahmed's still form lay on the floor, his blood pooling into the cracks of the tiles. The family stood frozen, faces as pale as ghosts. The younger children clung to their mothers, too frightened to cry. Even Khalid, the one who had carried out the act, leaned against the wall, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight.

Subhana finally broke the silence. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "We have to leave now. Sajid... we can't waste another minute. Please."

Sajid didn't respond immediately. His grip tightened on the bloodied cricket bat he still held, his knuckles white. Then, with a sharp nod, he barked, "Gather whatever you can carry—water, food, anything useful. Leave the rest. We're moving in ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Maryam's voice shook. "How are we supposed to—what about Ahmed? We can't just leave him like this!"

"We'll cover him," Khalid said quietly, his gaze fixed on Ahmed's lifeless form. He didn't elaborate, and no one asked further. The horror of the situation hung like a noose over everyone's heads.

Naseem took charge of the women. "Maryam, Subhana, Shazia—get the children ready and pack warm clothes. Zaid, Shawaiz, grab anything sharp from the kitchen—knives, tools, whatever you can use as a weapon. No one leaves the house unarmed."

"Where are we even going?" Shamir asked, his hands shaking as he shoved what little food they had into a duffel bag. "If they're out there—if we see more of them—what do we do?"

"We survive," Muhammad said flatly, though his stomach twisted with fear. "That's what we do."

The house erupted into controlled chaos. Bags were stuffed with canned goods, water bottles, and clothes. Maryam wrapped Mohid in a thick blanket, whispering reassurances to the little boy even as her own tears threatened to spill. Aysha helped Subhana bundle the younger cousins, while Asmir and Mehmood stood near the stairs, holding tightly to each other.

Khalid and Sajid worked on reinforcing a metal cart they found in the storage room. "We'll put the supplies here," Khalid said, his voice devoid of emotion. "It'll be heavy, but we can push it together. The kids need their hands free to run if we're ambushed."

"Majid, you'll take the rear," Sajid ordered, looking at his youngest brother. "Khalid and I will lead. Muhammad and Zaid—make sure no one falls behind. No heroes. No going off on your own. Understand?"

"Yes, Baba," Muhammad said quickly, though his heart thudded in his chest.

"They're coming," Mehmood said suddenly, his small voice cutting through the frantic noise. He was standing near the window, looking outside with wide eyes. "They're coming this way."

Everyone froze. The sound of groans and dragging feet grew louder, joined by the metallic clanging of hands on gates and doors.

"How many?" Sajid asked sharply.

Mehmood didn't answer, so Muhammad stepped to the window and pulled the curtain back a fraction. His blood turned cold. The street was teeming with infected. At least twenty figures staggered through the wreckage, their decayed forms illuminated by the pale morning sun. Some crawled over abandoned cars, others dragged broken limbs, and all of them had their bloodshot eyes locked onto their gate.

"We don't have time for ten minutes," Muhammad said, his voice cracking. "They'll break in before then."

A fresh wave of terror swept through the room. Shazia gasped, gripping Shawaiz's arm. "We'll be trapped in here!"

"No, we won't," Sajid snapped, taking command. "We leave now. Everyone, follow me. Stay quiet, stay close, and don't look back."

They moved like a well-drilled unit, though fear weighed heavily on every step. Sajid unbolted the back kitchen door, now hastily patched with furniture, and motioned for the family to file out.

One by one, they exited into the backyard, the adults carrying bags and weapons, the younger children clutching their older siblings' hands. Khalid and Sajid pushed the supply cart, its wheels squealing softly against the pavement.

As they crossed the yard, Subhana tugged at Sajid's sleeve. "What if they hear us?" she whispered, her voice laced with desperation.

"They're distracted by the front gate," Khalid said grimly, not looking back. "If we're quiet, we'll get past them."

They reached the outer wall of the property, where Majid unlatched the small, unused servant's gate. It opened into an alley that stretched into the distance, littered with garbage and splattered with dried blood.

Muhammad swallowed hard as Sajid waved everyone through. The moans of the infected grew louder from the main road, but for now, they were unseen.

"Stick to the walls," Sajid whispered. "Don't make a sound."

The family moved quickly but cautiously, their eyes darting in every direction. The alley reeked of sewage and decay, and every shadow seemed to hold danger. The groans from the main road faded slightly as they moved deeper into the back streets, but no one dared relax.

Suddenly, a sharp metallic clang echoed from somewhere up ahead. Everyone froze. Majid raised his hand, signaling for them to stop.

"What was that?" Zaid whispered, clutching a large kitchen knife.

Before anyone could answer, something lunged from behind a garbage heap—a gaunt, skeletal figure with long, claw-like fingers. Its sudden screech sent the children into a frenzy of screams, breaking the silence they had worked so hard to maintain.

The infected hurled itself toward the cart, knocking it over in its frenzy. Khalid shoved Subhana aside just in time as the creature's claws raked the air where her face had been.

"Kill it!" Sajid shouted, swinging his bat. The blow landed with a sickening crunch, but the creature didn't fall. It turned on him, hissing with feral rage.

Muhammad lunged forward, burying a knife into its eye socket. The creature collapsed, twitching violently, before finally going still.

"Keep moving!" Sajid ordered, grabbing the overturned cart. "They'll hear us now. Move!"

The family ran through the alley, their panic spiraling as more snarls echoed from all sides.

Part 3: Streets of Horror

The Alam family sprinted through the maze-like alleys behind their neighborhood, their collective breaths ragged. Every scrape of a shoe, every clatter of their hastily packed supplies felt deafening in the quiet terror of the streets. The infected were close—too close. Their growls echoed from all directions, urging the family to keep moving despite their burning legs and heaving chests.

"Stick together!" Sajid barked, glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one had fallen behind.

"We're moving too slow!" Asmir called out, his voice tense but steady. He and Moiz, both tall and wiry for their age, kept close to the front, carrying long wooden sticks they had picked up from the house. "They'll catch us if we keep dragging this cart!"

Moiz, a step behind Asmir, gripped his weapon tightly. "He's right. We're sitting ducks with this thing. We need to ditch it!"

"That cart is keeping you alive, Moiz," Sajid growled. "Food and water don't grow on trees! And without it, you'll starve before the week is out. Now push harder!"

"I'll help with the cart," Aysha offered, stepping up beside Khalid and Majid. Her calm voice belied the fear in her sharp brown eyes. She reached for the cart handles and helped steer it over a pothole. "Let's just move!"

Despite her slim frame, Aysha's determination was unshakable. She wasn't just helping physically—her resolve bolstered those around her. Her younger cousins, Afeef and Mohid, clung to her calm presence, their frightened whimpers fading as she spoke soothingly to them.

Mehmood, hanging near Muhammad, clutched a rolled-up blanket in one hand. "Am I going to get a stick too?" he asked, his voice breaking with a mix of fear and hopeful bravado.

Muhammad glanced at him, his grip tightening on the knife in his own hand. "Not yet. Stay next to me. I'll keep you safe."

"That's a lot of big talk for someone who got spooked by a kitchen knife last week," Asmir teased, sparing a grin for Muhammad as he jogged.

"Yeah, because I knew someone would have to save your big mouth from trouble one day," Muhammad shot back, though there was no venom in his tone. If anything, he was grateful for Asmir's effort to lighten the mood, even for a second.

A sharp, metallic crash nearby silenced their banter. Everyone froze.

Sajid raised his hand in a fist, signaling the group to stop. They pressed themselves against the alley wall, their breaths held. The sound of growls came from ahead—closer this time.

"There's a pileup up there," Moiz whispered, peering around the corner. "A truck hit a cart of propane tanks. It's blocked the road... and there are three, no, four of them scavenging around it."

"Four," Shawaiz muttered with a wry smile, gripping the hilt of a knife at his waist. "Nothing we can't handle."

"It's not just four," Moiz snapped. His voice was sharp now, serious. "You're not looking far enough. There's more—they're crawling out of the market. There could be twenty."

Sajid swore softly under his breath. "No chance we're getting through that way."

"We'll find another alley," Khalid offered. "Cut around it, but quick. If we stay here too long, they'll—"

A piercing scream cut through the air behind them. Everyone turned.

"What the hell?" Muhammad said, his voice tight.

A figure burst into view at the other end of the alley. It was a young man, bloodied and frantic, his arm dangling at an awkward angle. Behind him were at least a dozen infected, their milky eyes locked onto his form as they pursued him relentlessly.

The man tripped and fell, scrambling to his feet even as the nearest zombie closed in. Its rotted hand grabbed at his shirt. He screamed again.

"We can't help him," Majid said, his voice cold and urgent. "We'll die if we try. Move!"

Aysha's voice was firm, breaking through the mounting panic. "We go now. Before they see us."

Asmir and Moiz pushed forward, leading the group down another narrow alley. The new path smelled of rot and sewage, the remnants of trash fires still smoldering in blackened heaps.

"Don't stop," Sajid ordered, his voice unrelenting.

"Don't look back," Khalid added darkly.

But not everyone followed that advice. Mehmood, trailing close behind Muhammad, glanced over his shoulder despite himself. His small gasp gave him away.

"They're chasing us now!" he cried.

Muhammad turned and cursed under his breath. Mehmood was right. The zombies who had chased the stranger were pouring into the alley, their jagged movements growing quicker, hungrier as they caught sight of the Alam family.

The cart slowed them down—every small pebble, every uneven crack in the pavement made the task harder.

"We can't outrun them like this!" Moiz shouted, his voice straining.

"I'm not leaving it!" Khalid barked.

Sajid spun toward his nephew, his voice low and fierce. "Then fight, Moiz. Stop wasting your breath on complaints. Swing that stick when they get too close. Otherwise, keep moving!"

Before anyone could argue further, the group broke out into a larger street. It was chaotic—cars abandoned in every direction, small fires smoldering along the curbs. For a moment, the relative openness of the area felt safer than the claustrophobic alleys. But that relief was short-lived.

"Baba!" Muhammad pointed. A group of infected stumbled out of a burnt bus ahead, and others crawled over the wreckage of a shopfront nearby.

The snarls grew louder as they surged forward.

"They're surrounding us!" Shazia cried.

"Get the children inside one of these buildings!" Sajid barked. "Now!"

Aysha took charge immediately, leading Afeef and Mohid toward an old hardware store with shattered windows. Muhammad pulled Mehmood along after them, though his eyes stayed on the approaching threat.

Asmir and Moiz stood shoulder to shoulder at the rear of the group, their sticks raised. "We'll buy you time," Asmir said, his voice firm.

Moiz shot Muhammad a quick look. "We can handle this. Just don't get soft and come crying if I outlive you."

Muhammad snorted, the grim humor cutting through the fear for just a moment. "Don't die trying to show off."

"Move!" Khalid yelled, dragging the cart toward the doorway.

As zombies surged from all directions, the cousins prepared to make their stand.

Part 4: Splitting Up

The infected closed in, their grotesque forms emerging from the shadows. Snarls and wet, guttural sounds filled the air, drowning out the family's frantic efforts to organize. Muhammad barked orders, his knife ready in his hand, while Khalid pushed the cart relentlessly toward the doorway of the hardware store.

"Keep moving!" Sajid roared, his deep voice cutting through the chaos. He stood at the front with Khalid and Majid, each armed and ready. Khalid swung his wrench at an infected stumbling too close, cracking its skull with a horrifying crunch.

"Don't waste time with the slow ones—focus on what's in front of us!" Majid shouted, his voice straining under the weight of the cart.

Behind them, Shawaiz stuck close to Majid's side, slashing out with a sharp piece of rebar he had picked up. His usually cocky demeanor faltered for just a second as an infected lunged toward him. "Majid chacha, a little backup here!"

Majid shoved the cart forward and swung around, smashing his weapon into the creature. "Stay close, Shawaiz!"

Near the rear, Asmir, Moiz, Shamir, and Zaid formed a defensive line, working together to hold back the growing horde.

"Shamir, stop joking for five seconds!" Zaid yelled as his cousin pretended to whiff a swing at an infected.

"What? I'm just giving them false hope!" Shamir quipped, driving his stick into the throat of a staggering zombie.

"You're the only guy who can die laughing," Moiz grumbled, wiping sweat from his brow before charging at another infected. "Shut up and keep swinging!"

"I can multitask!" Shamir shouted back with a grin, smacking another zombie over the head. Asmir chuckled despite himself, delivering a sharp jab to the temple of a crawling figure. "We're going to need a cleanup crew for all your one-liners."

Toward the front, Muhammad's anger flared as he saw the group slowing. "Stop talking and focus!" he yelled at the cousins, his voice razor-sharp. He turned to the aunties. "Ammi, move them faster! Get inside now!"

"We're going as fast as we can, beta," Subhana replied tersely, ushering the children forward with one hand while gripping Mehmood's arm tightly with the other. "Just make sure no one gets through behind us."

Naseem and Maryam were close by, pushing Aysha and the little ones ahead. "Go, go," Naseem urged Aysha. "Get them inside first!"

"Am I invisible, or are we ignoring the whole zombie situation back here?" Shawaiz snapped, hacking at another lunging figure near Majid.

"You talk too much," Majid grumbled.

"They're overrunning us!" Muhammad yelled. "We don't have time for this!"

Finally, the group began pouring into the hardware store's shattered windows. Sajid and Khalid stood guard at the entrance, swiping at any infected who drew too close.

The younger children—Mohid, Afeef, and Mehmood—were quickly ushered inside, clinging to Aysha's side as she held a makeshift weapon. Her eyes darted nervously to Subhana and Shazia, who were wrangling the rest of the aunties into the relative safety of the interior.

Just as the last of the group started to move inside, disaster struck. One of the infected—a particularly fast and violent figure—sprinted from the side, dodging Zaid's swing and diving directly into the cart. Supplies scattered everywhere, and Khalid was knocked to the ground.

"Baba!" Aysha screamed.

"Help him!" Naseem shouted, starting forward, but Muhammad grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"I'll get him! Get inside!" Muhammad snarled.

Khalid struggled with the infected, using the cart to shield himself as it snapped and clawed, inches from his face. Before anyone else could reach him, Majid and Shawaiz sprang into action.

"Majid chacha, now!" Shawaiz yelled.

Majid didn't hesitate, slamming his bat into the creature's side with enough force to send it sprawling. Shawaiz finished it off, stabbing the rebar into its skull. Blood spattered onto Khalid's shirt, but the older man scrambled to his feet, panting heavily.

"Thanks," Khalid said breathlessly, gripping Shawaiz's shoulder in an unspoken show of gratitude.

"No time for thanks!" Majid snapped. "Move it!"

More infected flooded into the street. The delay had been costly.

"Muhammad, fall back!" Sajid ordered.

"No," Muhammad said firmly, his knife cutting through the air. "Not until everyone's safe!"

Inside the store, Aysha stood protectively in front of Afeef and Mohid, who whimpered and clung to her. Subhana and Maryam whispered reassurances as they helped blockade the door. "You'll be safe," Subhana murmured, though her face was pale.

Near the rear, the cousins realized they couldn't hold the line much longer. "Fall back, Shamir!" Zaid shouted, pushing him toward the entrance.

"But I'm winning!" Shamir protested, knocking a zombie backward. His humor faltered as Asmir pulled him away.

"There's too many, you idiot. Let's go!" Asmir said sharply.

With everyone safely inside, Muhammad delivered one final swing at an advancing zombie and turned on his heel. "Now, fall back!"

As the last of them squeezed into the hardware store, Sajid and Khalid pushed the cart across the entrance, using it as a makeshift barricade. The pounding and snarls from outside began almost immediately, the sound rattling their nerves.

"We can't stay here long," Sajid said grimly, his chest heaving. "This isn't safe. We need to keep moving."

"Give us five minutes," Naseem said firmly, helping Khalid to sit down for a moment. "These kids are exhausted. They're not soldiers, Sajid."

"We don't have time for rest," Muhammad argued, his face tight with anger. "We're sitting ducks here!"

"That's enough, Muhammad," Subhana said sharply. "Let the children breathe, at least."

The tension in the room was palpable. Moiz leaned against the wall, wiping sweat from his face, while Aysha checked on the younger ones.

"You alright?" Asmir asked Shamir, who grinned despite the situation.

"Yeah. Kinda disappointed there's no zombie scoreboard, though. You'd owe me a Coke," Shamir said, earning a faint chuckle from Asmir and Moiz.

Outside, the snarls grew louder. The undead were relentless, slamming themselves against the barricade.

"We don't have long," Sajid muttered. "Plan your breaths quickly, everyone. The next move will be harder."

Part 5: Uncertainty Looms

The pounding on the barricade grew louder, the infected outside gnashing their teeth and slamming their rotting bodies into the overturned cart blocking the entrance. The hardware store was dimly lit, its shelves lined with dust-covered cans of paint, toolboxes, and other items that had long since become irrelevant in a world unraveling.

Everyone inside struggled to catch their breath. The younger ones clung to their mothers, the cousins leaned against shelves for support, and the elder men huddled to plan the next move.

"We can't wait here much longer," Sajid said, his voice low but firm. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a shaky hand. "The noise will only draw more of them. We've already got dozens at the gate, maybe more coming from the main road."

"We barely made it here alive," Subhana replied, cradling Mehmood against her side. The boy, pale and shaking, clutched her tightly. "How do you think we'll survive out there again, Sajid? It's suicide."

"She's right," Naseem added, sitting beside Aysha, who was rubbing Mohid's back to calm him. "The little ones won't keep up if we run blindly. We need to make a real plan first."

"Planning won't do much if we're swarmed," Muhammad countered, pacing back and forth with his knife still in his hand. His usual spark of anger burned brighter as he snapped at no one in particular. "We sit here too long, we'll die anyway."

Aysha looked up from her spot with the children and replied evenly. "No one's asking to stay here forever, Muhammad. Just long enough to make sure we can move without anyone getting killed." Her tone was calm, but her words carried the weight of someone who wouldn't back down easily.

"What's the plan, then?" Shawaiz asked, leaning against a shelf and wiping a trail of blood from his sleeve. He gestured toward Khalid, Majid, and Sajid. "You guys are the bosses here, right? So decide. Where the hell are we going?"

Majid sighed, gripping the bat in his hands like it was a lifeline. "Bedian Road," he said finally. "Maryam was right earlier. That compound—it's fortified and farther from the main roads. If we make it there, we can last for a while."

"We'd have to cut through the markets to get there," Zaid pointed out, his voice tinged with worry. "There's no way that place isn't crawling with those things."

"There are no safe routes anymore," Khalid said, his tone grim. He nodded toward the pounding on the barricade. "We're taking that risk no matter what direction we pick."

The cousins exchanged uneasy glances. Asmir leaned closer to Shamir and muttered under his breath, "Can't believe Majid chacha is putting our lives in the hands of some wedding venue he remembers from years ago."

"Better than hanging around for zombies to file an RSVP," Shamir quipped. His humor drew a faint grin from Asmir, but Moiz cut in sharply.

"Both of you, stop joking," Moiz said, his face serious. "This is life or death."

"We know, Captain Obvious," Shamir muttered, rolling his eyes. "Just trying to keep things from going full panic mode in here."

Asmir gave Moiz a knowing look. "Better to die laughing than whining, don't you think?"

While the cousins traded words, Sajid began organizing the adults. "We take shifts clearing a path. Khalid, Majid, and I will push through the front while the younger ones watch the children from the back."

"You're not going out first," Subhana said sharply, her tone daring Sajid to argue.

"We'll all go together," Naseem added firmly. "The kids stay in the middle, surrounded by the rest of us. We'll form a wall around them."

"I can carry Afeef if he's too slow," Aysha offered, already adjusting her grip on Mohid, who was nodding off despite the tension. "We'll be faster if he's not trying to keep up on his own."

"Good idea," Shazia said, her voice tight as she adjusted her headscarf. Her sharp eyes scanned the group. "Zaid, Shawaiz, Shamir—you three stick with Majid bhai. You're not running off like lunatics again."

Zaid nodded stiffly, but Shamir grinned at her words. "Don't worry, Ammi. If I die, I'll haunt you with all my best jokes."

"Enough!" Majid snapped. "If you're going to talk, say something useful."

"Speaking of useful," Moiz interrupted, hefting a small crowbar he'd scavenged from the store, "are we taking anything from here before we leave? No point wasting time, right?"

Everyone fell silent. That was one question they could agree on. Within seconds, the cousins were ransacking shelves for anything remotely useful. Muhammad joined them, pushing aside old paint cans and dusty tools.

"Rope!" Zaid called out, shoving it into the growing pile near the doorway.

"We need anything sharp," Moiz added, testing the crowbar's weight with a swing.

"And something quiet," Muhammad muttered. "The last thing we need is more noise. Keep moving."

Meanwhile, Khalid took the opportunity to tend briefly to the cart. Many of their supplies had spilled during the fight, but a good portion could be salvaged. Subhana and Maryam repacked what they could, their hands working quickly.

Shawaiz nudged Asmir as they pried open a drawer at the counter. "Found anything that makes this nightmare easier? Like a fast-forward button?"

"No, but we've got duct tape and nails," Asmir replied, tossing them over. "Wanna make a zombie-proof tuxedo for when the apocalypse's over?"

Shamir, standing nearby, laughed. "Let's add that to the to-do list right after 'don't die.'"

As they worked, the pounding on the barricade intensified. Majid straightened, gripping his bat tightly.

"No time left," he said tersely. "We move now, or we don't move at all."

Sajid nodded. "Everyone into position. Kids stay in the center. Nobody falls behind."

As the family began lining up, a tense silence filled the room. They had only one option: push forward together. No splitting up, no hesitating. Outside was chaos, but in that moment, the Alam family stood united, their fears buried beneath a singular purpose—survival.

Sajid stepped toward the barricade, ready to move. "Stay close," he said. "And no one looks back."

(End of Chapter)