Chapter 8: Retracing Bloodstains

Part 1: Grim Reunion

The sun was high when Muhammad, Zaid, Moiz, and Shawaiz made their way back toward the factory. Their breaths were still ragged, their faces streaked with blood and dirt, but their steps didn't falter. The narrow streets of Lahore stretched ahead like a labyrinth, quiet except for the faint sounds of the undead in the distance.

"Think they've cleared the building by now?" Moiz asked, his voice low as his crowbar swung loosely in his hand.

"They should have," Zaid replied, glancing over his shoulder. "If not..." His voice trailed off, but his grip tightened on his hammer.

"Don't even say it," Shawaiz muttered, stepping over a broken cart. He glanced at Muhammad, who was silent, his gaze focused on the path ahead. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine," Muhammad replied curtly.

"Yeah?" Shawaiz asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "You look ready to kill the next thing that blinks wrong."

"Good," Muhammad shot back. "Maybe I am."

"Enough," Zaid interjected. "Save your energy. We'll need it if anything's waiting for us at the factory."

A Haunting Return

The group slowed as they approached the factory's exterior. From the distance, the large gates looked eerily still, as if the chaos of the night before had never happened. A few infected lingered near the far side of the building, but they moved aimlessly, uninterested.

"They're scattered," Muhammad said, his voice low.

"That's good for us," Zaid replied.

"Unless the ones inside are waiting," Moiz muttered.

"Let's find out." Muhammad pushed open the side gate carefully, the creak of the metal loud in the quiet morning. The four slipped through and into the factory yard, their weapons raised.

The scene inside was grim. Blood stained the ground, a dark reminder of the desperate battle that had unfolded the night before. The piles of debris and barricades were twisted and broken, claw marks visible in the dirt.

"Let's move fast," Muhammad said, his voice sharper now.

They advanced toward the main building, their steps light, their ears straining for any sign of danger. The faint groans of the infected still echoed from somewhere inside.

A Shocking Sight

They found the barricaded door at the base of the stairs, now a mangled heap of scrap and splinters. Muhammad gestured for the others to wait as he stepped carefully through the mess, his knife at the ready. The second floor stretched ahead, eerily quiet save for the occasional creak of the building settling.

When he reached the office door, he froze.

"Muhammad?" Zaid called softly from behind, but Muhammad didn't answer.

Inside the office, the air was thick with dread. The glass walls were smeared with blood, and the overturned furniture told a story of violence. Near the corner of the room, crouched and silent, sat an infected. Its eyes were clouded, its face twisted, but it didn't move.

The reason became clear: its leg was mangled, crushed under a fallen filing cabinet. It had no strength to lunge.

"Only one," Shawaiz whispered as he joined Muhammad. "Looks like the others got out."

Zaid stepped forward and raised his hammer, but Muhammad held up a hand. "Wait."

He crouched next to the infected, narrowing his eyes at the streaks of blood on the floor. They led away from the barricade, back toward the far exit—where their family should have escaped.

"They're alive," Muhammad said, standing slowly. "They got out."

"And this thing didn't follow," Zaid muttered. He swung the hammer, silencing the creature in a single strike. "We should be moving."

On the Trail

The group followed the trail of blood and scuff marks through the hallways, their steps quick but wary. The faint scent of decay clung to the air, but the path led them out of the factory and onto a quieter street lined with abandoned homes.

"This is recent," Moiz said, motioning to the smeared blood on a nearby wall. "They weren't far ahead of us."

"That means they're still alive," Muhammad said firmly.

Shawaiz snorted. "Probably still alive."

Muhammad turned on him, his eyes blazing. "They are."

"Okay, okay," Shawaiz muttered, holding up his hands. "Relax, man."

"We stick to this trail," Zaid said, steering the group back on track. "Eyes open."

A Disturbing Discovery

As they moved farther from the factory, the scene became more unsettling. They passed scattered belongings—a child's scarf snagged on a fence, a broken pot spilling scraps of food, a bloodied shawl hanging from a low tree branch.

"Did they drop this on purpose?" Moiz asked, examining the scarf.

"Maybe," Zaid replied grimly. "Maybe not."

They reached an open courtyard cluttered with carts and empty stalls, likely part of an old neighborhood market. The trail ended abruptly at the center, where several bodies lay twisted and broken. Most were infected, their faces frozen in grotesque snarls.

But one body made Muhammad's stomach twist. A man lay on his back, his throat ripped out, his blood soaking the ground. He wasn't infected—his lifeless eyes were still clear, his face partially hidden by the shadow of a tipped-over cart.

Muhammad crouched beside him, swallowing hard.

"Do you know him?" Zaid asked.

Muhammad shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "But they killed him on the way out." He motioned toward a dented frying pan lying nearby. "That's Maryam's."

"She fought," Zaid muttered.

"They fought," Muhammad corrected, standing. "They're strong. They survived."

Signs of Hope

The group pressed on, following faint sounds that seemed to echo through the narrow alleys. The cries of an infant echoed faintly in the air, carried by the light morning breeze.

"Did you hear that?" Shawaiz whispered, gripping his rebar tightly.

"It's them," Muhammad said without hesitation, his steps quickening.

"Could be anyone," Moiz warned. "Or worse."

"We don't slow down now," Zaid said.

As they rounded another corner, the sound grew louder, clearer. And then they saw it—another gated compound. Unlike the factory, it was intact, the gates reinforced with wooden beams and metal sheets. From behind it, faint movement could be seen as figures flitted between the windows of the main building.

"It's them," Muhammad said, his chest tightening with relief.

Part 2: A Family Restored

The gated compound stood like an unspoken promise of safety amidst the chaos of Lahore's ruins. The structure was solid and imposing, a stark contrast to the abandoned homes and crumbling streets surrounding it. From their position a short distance away, Muhammad, Zaid, Shawaiz, and Moiz could see faint movement behind the reinforced windows of the main building.

"They made it," Muhammad said quietly, his voice trembling with relief. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his knife, his knuckles bloodstained and raw from the morning's battle.

"Don't celebrate just yet," Zaid said cautiously, stepping closer. "It's quiet. Too quiet."

"That's good, isn't it?" Shawaiz asked, though his uneasy glance at the shadows beyond the compound betrayed his doubt. "Quiet means no infected."

"Or it means something worse is waiting inside," Moiz muttered, gripping his crowbar tightly.

"Let's not waste time," Muhammad said, already moving toward the gate. "If they're in there, we're going."

Zaid grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. "Wait," he said sharply. "If they're alive, they'll let us in. We don't need to kick down the front door."

Calling Out

Muhammad stopped, his jaw clenched, and nodded reluctantly. Zaid stepped forward instead, lifting his hammer in one hand while raising the other in a gesture of peace. He glanced back at the others before calling out:

"Subhana! Sajid! It's us!"

The sound of his voice echoed across the empty street, amplified by the eerie quiet. For a long moment, there was no response. Then, the faint sound of movement grew louder, followed by muffled voices from behind the gate.

"Stay on guard," Moiz warned, shifting closer to the group.

A panel slid open near the top of the gate, revealing a pair of cautious eyes peering through. The voice that followed made Muhammad's heart leap.

"Who's there?" Subhana's voice, though strained and hoarse, was unmistakable.

"Ammi!" Muhammad shouted, pushing forward despite Zaid's restraining hand. "It's me! It's Muhammad!"

"Muhammad?" Subhana's voice wavered with a mixture of shock and hope. The panel slammed shut, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps and the clanging of locks.

The gate groaned open, revealing Subhana standing just behind it, flanked by Sajid, Majid, and Khalid. Their faces were pale and bloodstained, their eyes hollow with exhaustion, but the moment they saw their sons, a wave of relief passed over them.

Subhana rushed forward, pulling Muhammad into a crushing embrace. "Allah ka shukar," she whispered, tears streaming down her face as she clung to him. "You're alive. You're all alive."

A Family Reunited

As the gate closed behind them, the rest of the family emerged from the building. Maryam held Mohid close to her chest, her expression a mixture of disbelief and joy as she saw Moiz. Naseem pulled Aysha and Afeef into a protective hug, her hands shaking as she reassured them that the cousins were safe.

Shawaiz barely had time to brace himself as Shazia pulled him into an embrace, her sobs muffled against his shoulder. "You're here," she whispered, clutching his face in her hands as if to ensure he was real.

"It's okay, Ammi," Shawaiz said softly, patting her back awkwardly. "I told you I'd be fine."

"For once, you actually listened to me," Shamir said with a weak grin, stepping forward to join the group. His pole rested on his shoulder, but his usually energetic demeanor was subdued.

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Moiz quipped, earning a faint laugh from the group despite the tension lingering in the air.

Sajid approached his son, placing a hand on Muhammad's shoulder. "You made it back," he said simply, though the pride in his voice was unmistakable. "All of you did."

Muhammad nodded. "We had to. For you. For them."

Trouble Within

The relief of reunion was short-lived. As the family moved into the safety of the compound, the signs of what they had endured were clear. Makeshift barricades lined the halls, bloodstains smeared the walls, and scavenged supplies were piled in the corners of every room.

"This place isn't secure," Zaid said quietly to Sajid as they walked through the compound. "The defenses won't hold if the infected make a serious push."

"We know," Sajid replied grimly. "The infected swarmed the gates earlier this morning, but most of them moved on when they couldn't get through. We don't have the manpower or materials to hold them off if they come back."

"And if it's not the infected?" Muhammad added, glancing at the windows. "What if it's other survivors? People who don't ask before they take what they want?"

Majid let out a heavy sigh. "Then we deal with them the same way we deal with everything else."

"We shouldn't stay long," Muhammad said firmly. "We've lost too much ground. We need to get farther out of the city."

"We barely made it here," Maryam interjected, her voice strained. "And now you're talking about leaving again?"

"We don't have a choice," Khalid said. "This place was fine for the night, but it's a tomb if we don't keep moving."

"You call this fine?" Shazia snapped, her exhaustion boiling over. "You think dragging them through hell is better than staying in one place long enough to feel human again?"

"It's not about feeling human," Sajid said sharply. "It's about staying alive."

New Challenges

As the family gathered to discuss their next steps, the distant growls of the infected began to echo once more, a brutal reminder that the world outside the gates had not forgotten them.

"We need a real plan," Sajid said, turning to the group. "One that doesn't end with us on the run again tomorrow."

"What plan?" Naseem asked, her voice cracking. "There's nowhere safe anymore, Sajid. You know that."

"Maybe not," Muhammad said, his voice steady. "But if we stop looking, we're as good as dead."

The room fell silent as the family exchanged uneasy glances. Outside, the sounds of the infected grew louder, creeping closer like an unrelenting tide.

"We decide by nightfall," Sajid said finally, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Because one way or another, we can't stay here much longer."

Part 3: A New Direction

The compound was cloaked in an uneasy quiet. Every shadow, every gust of wind against the iron gate, felt like an omen. The Alam family huddled together in a sparsely furnished central room, their faces lit by the dim gray light seeping through broken windowpanes. The walls bore faint scratches, reminders of the undead who had pressed against them not long ago.

The weight of survival pressed heavily on every member of the family. Decisions made now wouldn't just determine their future—they'd decide whether or not there was one.

Tensions in the Group

Sajid stood at the center of the room, his bat resting against the floor. The room's makeshift barricades stood behind him, casting long shadows. The conversation among the family had grown more heated as the hours stretched on.

"We've already pushed farther than we should have," Subhana said, her voice tight with exhaustion. "Look at Mehmood." She gestured toward her son, who sat curled against the wall beside her, his head resting on her shoulder. "He's barely eaten. Barely slept."

"What's the alternative?" Muhammad shot back, his tone sharper than intended. He leaned against the wall near the window, his knife still in his hand. "We stay here until the gate collapses? Let them corner us again like they did at the factory?"

"And then what, Muhammad?" Subhana countered, her voice trembling. "You've been so eager to run forward, but you haven't said where you think we'll end up."

"Somewhere better than here," Muhammad said through gritted teeth.

"That's not enough," Maryam said, stepping into the conversation. Her arms were wrapped protectively around Mohid, who clung to her silently. "The children can't handle endless running. Neither can we."

"And if we stop, they'll handle dying better?" Zaid snapped, his usual calm giving way to frustration.

"You're not thinking clearly, all of you," Khalid said. He stood near the door, his wrench slung over his shoulder. "We barely have supplies, and we can't afford another swarm. If this place gets hit again, we won't survive."

"They've thinned out!" Shazia cut in, glaring at her brothers-in-law. "You saw them outside. We can reinforce the gates. Fortify this place."

"And when we run out of food?" Majid interjected. "Or water?"

"You're so eager to go," Shazia snapped, pointing toward him, "but where? Tell me. What's this miraculous plan that's going to keep us alive?"

"We head toward Bedian Road," Sajid said, his voice calm but firm. The room went silent as he continued. "We've talked about this before. There are farms and open land that haven't been overrun. If we leave now, we can make it before nightfall."

"Assuming there's no ambush," Moiz muttered. He leaned against the wall beside Shamir, his crowbar dangling loosely in his hand.

"Everything's an assumption now," Majid said, shaking his head. "But he's right. The farther we get from the city, the better our chances."

"And if it's empty?" Naseem asked, her voice breaking. "If it's already been taken? What then?"

"Then we survive the next place," Sajid replied. His expression softened slightly as he looked at the younger children huddled in the corner. "We keep moving as long as we're able. That's the only plan that matters."

Splinters of Doubt

The tension in the room thickened. Sajid's leadership, once unquestionable, now carried the weight of exhaustion and desperation. For the first time, the family's unity felt fractured, every suggestion sparking more doubt than confidence.

"People who keep moving in circles end up in graves," Shazia said bitterly. "What if the farms are just another dead end?"

"We don't have a choice," Muhammad said, his voice hard but steady. "Do you want the kids to starve here?"

Shazia glared at him, but her words faltered. Behind her, Aysha stepped forward, her voice quiet but clear.

"Baji's right," Aysha said, her hands clutching a chipped frying pan she had repurposed as a weapon. "We all keep saying we're doing this for the kids, but staying here doesn't help them. They're scared. They need more than four walls and empty rooms."

Aysha's words hung in the air, soft but undeniable.

Sajid turned to Subhana. "We leave within the hour," he said, his tone gentle but unyielding. "Pack only what we can carry. We'll make it work."

Subhana nodded reluctantly, pulling Mehmood closer.

Preparations and Farewells

The family scattered to gather their supplies. Broken bags were filled with bottles of water, packets of biscuits, and the few remaining medical supplies. Tools and makeshift weapons were handed out. Every movement was deliberate, marked by an unspoken understanding that mistakes now could mean death later.

Shamir and Moiz tied knots around bundles of salvaged materials while Zaid and Shawaiz reinforced their weapons. Subhana and Maryam repacked their bags, arranging their meager food supply as the children watched in silence.

"You're going to hold my hand the whole time, okay?" Aysha whispered to Afeef as she crouched beside him.

He nodded, his small fingers reaching for hers. "Will we see grass?" he asked softly, his voice trembling.

"Yes, beta," Aysha said with a forced smile. "Green grass, just like at Dada's house."

The Departure

An hour later, the Alams stood at the compound gate, ready to leave the tenuous safety it had offered them. Outside, the streets were quiet save for the occasional distant moans of infected.

Sajid turned to the group, his hand tightening on his bat. "Stay close. No one falls behind, no matter what happens."

Muhammad stepped forward to join Zaid, Shawaiz, and Moiz at the lead. The cousins exchanged a tense glance, then nodded in silent agreement. They had fought their way through worse.

Subhana, Maryam, and Shazia formed a protective ring around the children, while Naseem kept a watchful eye on their rear. Majid and Khalid brought up the back, their weapons raised.

"Move," Sajid said, pushing the gate open.

The family stepped into the world beyond the walls, their path uncertain but unavoidable.

The Next Threat Looms

They hadn't made it more than three blocks before the echoes of growls reached them. Muhammad froze mid-step, signaling for the others to stop.

"What is it?" Moiz whispered, his crowbar raised.

"Listen," Muhammad said.

The growls grew louder, accompanied by the faint scrape of claws against concrete. From a nearby alley, dark shapes began to emerge, their eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. It wasn't a large group, but enough to pose a deadly threat.

"Five, no—seven," Zaid counted quickly. "Not the whole horde, but..."

"Enough to kill us if we don't act fast," Sajid finished.

"They haven't spotted us yet," Muhammad said, glancing at his family. "We either take them out here, or we'll lead them right to the kids."

Sajid raised his bat, his expression hardening. "Form up. We handle this clean."

The cousins exchanged another look before spreading out into a defensive position.

"This is going to get loud," Shawaiz muttered as he raised his rebar.

Muhammad took his first step forward, his knife gleaming. "Good. Let them hear us coming."

Part 4: The Encounter

The street narrowed into an ominous stretch of crumbled buildings and overturned vehicles, where even the wind felt muted. The growls of the infected reverberated off the concrete walls, rising like an impending tide. From the mouth of the alley ahead, seven twisted figures emerged, their movements erratic yet deliberate, their milky eyes reflecting the muted sunlight.

Muhammad signaled for the family to stop. He glanced over his shoulder at Sajid, who gave a sharp nod. The elders moved quickly to pull the younger children behind a shattered cart, positioning the women to shield them.

"No one makes a sound," Sajid whispered, his bat steady in his hands. "We hit fast, clean. No mistakes."

The infected moved closer, their breaths wet and ragged, claws scraping against the uneven ground. Muhammad and the cousins shifted into position, their faces pale but their weapons steady.

"This is manageable," Zaid murmured, his hammer resting lightly on his shoulder. "Seven against four."

"And a whole family watching," Shawaiz muttered, gripping his rebar tightly. "No pressure."

Moiz gave him a sidelong glance. "We've handled worse."

"Maybe," Shamir interjected from behind, "but these things don't play fair."

The First Strike

As the infected edged closer, Muhammad sprang into motion. His knife cut through the air in a deadly arc, burying itself in the neck of the nearest zombie. The creature gargled and stumbled, but before it could fall, he twisted the blade and yanked it free, sending a spray of blackened blood onto the cracked pavement.

"Next!" he growled.

Zaid swung his hammer with a two-handed grip, shattering the knee of another infected. It collapsed with an enraged screech, but Zaid drove the hammer downward again, caving in its skull.

Shawaiz took a step forward to jab his rebar into the chest of a snarling zombie. The creature lurched closer, its clawed hand grazing his arm before he yanked the weapon free and swung it sideways into its jaw.

Moiz was next, stepping in to strike low at the legs of a particularly large infected. The heavy crowbar smashed its shin, sending the zombie collapsing into Moiz's waiting swing. The second blow crushed its skull, silencing its gurgled cries.

A Costly Error

Two infected remained, both smaller and faster than the rest. One lunged for Zaid as he pulled his hammer back from a kill. Its sharp nails scraped his shoulder, tearing through his jacket and drawing blood.

"Zaid!" Moiz shouted, rushing forward. He swung his crowbar into the creature's back, sending it toppling onto Zaid, who finished it with a precise blow to the head.

The last infected sprinted for Muhammad with surprising speed. Its clawed hand lashed out, narrowly missing his throat as he ducked. He twisted on his heel, driving his knife upward into its jaw and through the base of its skull. It let out a wet choke before falling limp, collapsing at his feet.

"Everyone clear?" Sajid's voice rang out, low and commanding.

"We're good!" Shawaiz panted, stepping back to check himself.

Zaid grimaced as he pressed a hand to the shallow scratch on his shoulder. "Not much damage," he said through gritted teeth.

"Good," Muhammad said, his voice sharp. He wiped his blade on his pant leg before turning to face the rest of the family. "They're down. Let's move before more show up."

The Fallout

The family regrouped quickly, but the tension remained thick. The smell of blood clung to the air, and the younger children kept their faces buried against their mothers' shoulders. Subhana wiped sweat from her brow as she knelt in front of Mehmood.

"Are you okay, beta?" she asked softly, brushing his hair back.

He nodded wordlessly, but his trembling hands betrayed his fear.

Aysha crouched beside Mohid and Afeef, her voice quiet but firm. "Stay close to me, alright? Don't look back."

"We didn't get them all fast enough," Majid said grimly as he approached the cousins. His bat hung at his side, streaked with drying blood. "That could've gone wrong fast."

"It didn't," Muhammad said bluntly, his jaw tight. "We handled it."

"Not without risks," Majid replied, pointing toward Zaid. "He's bleeding."

"It's a scratch," Zaid interjected, though his tone lacked confidence. He avoided the gazes of the others as Shazia hurried toward him, her expression a mixture of worry and anger.

"A scratch?" she demanded, tugging at his jacket to examine the wound. "You call this a scratch? You didn't even tell me—"

"I didn't tell you because it's nothing," Zaid said firmly, pulling away.

Shazia's eyes welled with tears. "And what if it was something? What if I had to watch them tear you apart while we sat back and waited for you to come back?"

"Ammi..." Shawaiz began, but Shazia silenced him with a look.

"No," she said sharply. "I've watched too many close calls. I've had enough."

"None of us wanted this," Muhammad said, his voice softer now. "But it's done. We won."

"And how many more times can we win?" Shazia snapped, turning to him. "What happens when the fight we can't win comes for us? You act like you're invincible, Muhammad, but you're not. None of us are."

The words hung in the air, silencing the group. Even the wind seemed to stop for a moment as the weight of her fears settled over them.

Moving On

"We don't stop," Sajid said finally, his voice breaking the stillness. His gaze swept over the group, his expression unwavering. "She's right. None of us are invincible. But if we stop to argue every time something happens, we'll all die here."

He turned toward the street ahead, gripping his bat tightly. "This was just a small fight. We handled it. The next one will come whether we're ready or not. But right now, we need to move. Get somewhere safer."

Subhana helped Mehmood to his feet and nodded. The women gathered the children and supplies, their movements weary but resolute. Zaid wiped his brow and fell into step behind his father, followed by the cousins, who silently adjusted their grips on their weapons.

The Alams pressed onward into the unknown, leaving behind the blood-soaked pavement and the haunting cries of the undead still lingering in the air. Ahead, the road stretched far and uncertain, promising only one thing—more battles to come.

(End Of Chapter)