Chapter 10: Fractured Paths

Part 1: A Dangerous Alliance

Muhammad led the way out of the building, his steps firm despite the weight of exhaustion pressing on his body. The adrenaline from the fight still coursed through his veins, sharpening his senses. The streets beyond were eerily quiet again, but he knew better than to trust the silence.

Kamran trailed behind, his grip tight on the blood-smeared pipe. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes darted to every shadow as if expecting another ambush. "Those guys… you didn't need to—"

"They would've killed us," Muhammad cut him off, his voice cold and clipped.

"You don't know that," Kamran countered, his tone wavering. "What if they were bluffing?"

Muhammad turned sharply, his dark eyes locking onto Kamran. "I didn't survive this long by guessing what people might do. You hesitate in this world, you die. If you can't handle that, you won't last."

Kamran opened his mouth to argue but faltered under Muhammad's glare. Instead, he looked away, muttering under his breath.

"You got a better idea for survival?" Muhammad asked, his tone biting.

Kamran didn't reply.

The Ticking Clock

The two moved cautiously down the street, sticking close to the buildings for cover. The morning sun was beginning to rise higher, its light revealing the full extent of the city's devastation. Burned-out cars clogged the intersections, storefronts lay in ruin, and distant columns of black smoke stained the sky.

"How far are you planning to go?" Kamran asked after a while, his voice quieter now.

Muhammad didn't answer immediately. His mind raced with fractured thoughts—his family, lost somewhere in the chaos; the fresh memory of the ambush; the uncertain future waiting for him at the edge of every corner.

"Until I find my family," he said finally, his grip tightening on the knife in his hand.

Kamran stopped walking, his expression shifting between disbelief and sympathy. "Your family?" he asked softly. "They're…"

"They're alive," Muhammad interrupted, his voice hard. He turned to face Kamran. "I don't care what you think. I'm going to find them. Every one of them."

Kamran hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. If that's what keeps you going."

A New Threat

Their uneasy conversation was cut short by the sound of distant movement. At first, it was faint—scattered footsteps echoing through the concrete jungle. But as the moments passed, the sounds grew louder, more distinct.

Muhammad raised his hand, motioning for Kamran to stop. "You hear that?"

Kamran nodded, his knuckles whitening around the pipe. "Yeah. Too close."

The two ducked behind a rusted van, their breaths shallow as the noise grew nearer. Peering over the edge of the vehicle, Muhammad spotted a small group of infected shambling toward them. Their movements were slow but unrelenting, their bodies twisted and rotting under the harsh sunlight.

"Five of them," Kamran whispered, his voice trembling.

Muhammad nodded, scanning their surroundings quickly. "We can take them if we're smart. Stay low, stay quiet."

"Or we could, you know, not," Kamran suggested, glancing toward the far end of the street. "We sneak past them, save our energy for the real fights."

"And what if they're part of a larger group? You want to risk them circling back?" Muhammad countered. He didn't wait for an answer before moving.

Kamran let out a frustrated sigh but followed.

The Fight

Muhammad approached the closest infected cautiously, his knife ready. The creature's gaunt frame twisted toward the faint noise of his footsteps, its glassy eyes locking onto him. It let out a guttural snarl as it lunged, but Muhammad stepped aside fluidly, driving his knife into its skull with a swift, practiced motion.

The second infected turned at the commotion, shuffling toward Muhammad with its decaying arms outstretched. Kamran sprang forward, his pipe swinging in a wide arc. The blow caught the creature in the side of the head, sending it staggering. Kamran struck again, this time caving its skull with a sickening crunch.

"Two down," Muhammad muttered, his eyes darting toward the remaining infected.

The third and fourth came at them together. Muhammad ducked as the closer one swiped at him, stabbing upward into its jaw. The body collapsed onto him, its weight forcing him to stumble backward.

"Kamran!" Muhammad shouted, struggling to push the body off.

Kamran turned to see the fourth infected lunging for Muhammad, its jaws snapping inches from his face. With a yell, Kamran brought his pipe down on the creature's spine, stopping it mid-lunge. Muhammad rolled free and stabbed it in the neck, twisting the blade viciously.

The last infected growled and charged at Kamran. For a moment, he froze, the sudden burst of speed catching him off guard.

"Move!" Muhammad yelled, shoving Kamran out of the way just as the creature lunged.

It missed Kamran but collided with Muhammad, the impact sending them both to the ground. Muhammad grabbed the infected by its throat, holding it at arm's length as it snapped its rotting teeth just inches from his face. With a roar, he slammed his knife into its eye, shoving the lifeless body off him.

Aftermath

Muhammad staggered to his feet, wiping the blood from his knife onto his already filthy jacket. Kamran leaned heavily on his pipe, his face pale and his breaths uneven.

"You almost got me killed," Muhammad said, his voice sharp.

"I—" Kamran started, then stopped, his shoulders slumping. "You're right. I froze."

"Don't freeze again," Muhammad snapped, his gaze hard. "Next time, I won't be there to save you."

Kamran nodded silently, his grip on the pipe tightening.

After a moment, Muhammad sighed and looked toward the horizon. "Let's keep moving. We don't have time to wait for more."

Kamran glanced at the bloodied remains of the infected, then back at Muhammad. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"Maybe," Muhammad replied, his tone flat. "But I'm alive."

Tensions Rise

As they walked, the weight of the fight and their uneasy partnership began to strain the fragile bond between them.

"So, what happens if you don't find your family?" Kamran asked suddenly, his voice quiet but insistent.

"I will," Muhammad said without hesitation.

"And if you don't?"

Muhammad stopped walking, turning to face Kamran. His expression was cold, his eyes hard. "Then I'll still keep moving. Because the only thing worse than dying in this world is stopping."

Kamran opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it. He simply nodded and fell in line behind Muhammad, the silence between them heavier than before.

The Next Challenge

Ahead of them, the landscape began to shift. The narrow streets widened into an open thoroughfare, lined with crumbling shops and gutted vehicles. A billboard towered overhead, its peeling paint advertising a long-forgotten brand.

In the distance, movement caught Muhammad's eye. He raised a hand, signaling for Kamran to stop.

"What is it?" Kamran asked nervously.

Muhammad narrowed his eyes, his body tense. "Something's ahead. Not infected."

Kamran's face paled. "You think it's survivors?"

"Only one way to find out," Muhammad muttered, his grip tightening on his knife.

As they approached cautiously, the shapes grew clearer—figures moving between the wreckage, their silhouettes lit by a flickering fire.

"Looks like they're armed," Kamran whispered, peering ahead. "And there's more than one."

Muhammad's jaw tightened. "Stay close," he said. "This could get ugly."

Part 2: A Gamble Among Wolves

The figures ahead were more organized than any group Muhammad had seen since the outbreak began. There were at least six of them moving between the wreckage—men and women carrying crude weapons, their faces partially obscured by bandanas and scarves. A fire flickered at the center of their makeshift camp, casting long shadows across the desolate road.

Muhammad motioned for Kamran to stay low as they crouched behind a shattered car. His eyes narrowed as he studied the group. Most carried simple weapons—pipes, wooden clubs, and knives—but two were armed with firearms. One of them, a stocky man with a thick beard, had a battered hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. The other, a woman with cropped hair, cradled a pistol in both hands, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.

"We need to avoid them," Kamran whispered, his voice trembling.

"And leave the road clear for them to chase us?" Muhammad hissed back. "They don't look like the kind of people who ask questions first."

"So what's the plan? Fight them?" Kamran's voice rose slightly, and Muhammad shot him a glare.

"No. Not unless we have to," Muhammad said. He scanned the camp for any signs of weakness. The group was alert but scattered, their positioning leaving gaps that could be exploited. "Stay close, don't make a sound, and let me do the talking if it comes to that."

Kamran swallowed hard and nodded, though his hands shook as he gripped the pipe.

They edged closer, keeping low and using the debris as cover. The fire crackled louder as they approached, and the faint sound of voices reached them—harsh and tense, though not immediately aggressive.

"Shut up and keep watch," the woman with the pistol snapped, her sharp tone cutting through the night. "You want another pack of those things sneaking up on us?"

"We haven't seen infected for hours," another voice grumbled, belonging to a wiry man sitting near the fire, poking at it with a metal rod. "Don't act like you're the boss."

"I am until Thomas gets back," the woman shot back, leveling a glare at the speaker.

"Thomas?" Muhammad whispered to himself. It sounded like the leader wasn't present. That might give them an edge if things went south.

Muhammad felt Kamran tug at his sleeve and turned to see his companion's wide, fearful eyes. "We need to leave. Now," Kamran mouthed.

Muhammad ignored him, stepping closer. A pile of supplies near the fire caught his eye—cans of food, bottles of water, and what looked like medical kits. A pang of hunger clenched his stomach, and he knew that if they could secure even a fraction of those supplies, it could buy them time to recover and keep moving.

The man at the fire stretched, his movements casual. "Tired of sitting here. Thomas doesn't even care about what happens to us. Probably just using this whole 'leadership' thing as an excuse to call the shots and take what he wants."

"Thomas keeps us alive," the woman snapped. "Or did you forget who found this place in the first place?"

Muhammad saw an opening—division among the group. Fractures like that could be exploited if things came to confrontation.

Just as he turned to signal Kamran to move back, a metallic clang echoed through the air. Kamran had tripped, his pipe striking the side of a metal barrel.

The sound cut through the camp like a gunshot.

"Who's there?" the woman shouted, raising her pistol.

The man with the rifle turned sharply, his hand moving to his weapon as his eyes scanned the shadows. "I see movement!"

Muhammad knew they'd been spotted.

"Come out!" the woman shouted, her voice hard. "Now, or we start shooting!"

Muhammad cursed under his breath and stepped out from behind the car, his hands raised slightly. He made sure his knife was visible but not in a threatening position. Kamran followed reluctantly, clutching his pipe and trembling visibly.

"Easy," Muhammad said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "We're not looking for trouble."

The woman scoffed, her pistol trained on them. "You're creeping around our camp in the middle of the night, and I'm supposed to believe you're just sightseeing?"

"We heard your fire," Muhammad replied calmly. "Saw the supplies. We're just two guys looking to survive. That's all."

"And you thought sneaking in was a good way to introduce yourselves?" the man with the rifle asked, stepping closer. His grip on the weapon tightened, though he hadn't raised it yet.

"Didn't want to get shot before we had the chance to talk," Muhammad said, his sharp gaze meeting the man's.

"Smart," the woman said, though her tone was sarcastic. "And now you've got a gun pointed at you anyway. So talk fast before I put you down."

Kamran looked like he might pass out, but Muhammad stood his ground.

"We need supplies," Muhammad said bluntly. "We're not here to steal or fight. If you can trade, we're willing."

"Trade?" The woman laughed, shaking her head. "And what exactly do you have to trade, stranger? That rusty knife? His shaky hands?" She nodded toward Kamran.

The others around the fire chuckled, but the man with the rifle frowned, his brow furrowing in thought.

"I can fight," Muhammad said simply. His tone carried no boast, only conviction. "And I'm not bad at killing infected. If you've got a problem that needs solving, we can help."

The woman hesitated, her pistol lowering slightly. "A hired knife, huh?" She smirked. "And what about your friend? What does he do?"

Kamran stammered, but Muhammad answered for him. "He knows how to keep his mouth shut."

The group snickered again, but the tension in the air remained thick.

The man with the rifle stepped forward, his expression measured. "You really willing to do what we ask? Because where we send you, there's no turning back."

Muhammad met his gaze. "If it means getting what we need to survive, I'll do whatever it takes."

The man studied him for a long moment before glancing at the woman. She shrugged.

"All right, then," the rifleman said. "But don't think you're walking out of here with anything until we see if you're as good as you say."

"And if we're not?" Kamran asked nervously.

The woman's smirk widened. "Then we let the infected deal with you."

Part 3: Trial by Blood

Muhammad's jaw tightened as he processed the unspoken threat. He glanced at Kamran, whose face was pale, his trembling hands gripping the pipe like a lifeline. The makeshift camp's dim light revealed just how precarious their situation had become.

"What do you want us to do?" Muhammad asked evenly, his voice unflinching.

The rifleman, who seemed to hold some sway over the group despite his calm demeanor, gestured toward a crumbling, partially collapsed building across the street. Its broken windows stared back at them like hollow eyes, and the faint snarls of infected drifted from its darkened depths.

"That building was a supply depot before the outbreak," the rifleman explained. "We've seen infected wander in, but none come out. There's something big inside keeping them from leaving."

Muhammad's eyes narrowed. "How many are we talking about?"

"Enough," the woman with the pistol cut in, her smirk never wavering. "Your job is simple. Go in, clear it out, and come back with whatever you find. Do that, and maybe we'll consider helping you out."

"Maybe?" Kamran blurted, his voice laced with disbelief.

The woman turned her sharp gaze toward him, her tone dripping with mockery. "You want guarantees in this world, sweetheart? Thought you'd have figured it out by now—life doesn't come with refunds."

"Enough, Jenna," the rifleman interrupted, his voice steady but firm. "We'll honor the deal if you survive."

"Fair enough," Muhammad replied without hesitation. He turned to Kamran, who looked like he was on the verge of collapse. "You coming, or do I have to do this alone?"

Kamran swallowed hard, looking between Muhammad and the looming building. Finally, he nodded, though his voice cracked. "Let's get this over with."

The rifleman gestured toward the dark street. "We'll be here if you make it back. And if not…" He shrugged.

Muhammad didn't reply. He just started walking.

The street leading to the building was unnervingly quiet. The faint glow of the fire at the camp seemed a world away as Muhammad and Kamran crept closer to the supply depot. Every footstep felt too loud, every breath an invitation for death.

"What are we doing?" Kamran hissed, barely keeping pace with Muhammad. "This is suicide. Even if we make it out, those psychos aren't going to help us."

"They will," Muhammad replied, his voice a low growl.

"You don't know that!" Kamran insisted. "They're using us. You think they'd risk their own people for this?"

"They don't trust us," Muhammad shot back, glancing at Kamran. "But after we finish this, they'll see what we're capable of."

"And if they decide to kill us anyway?"

"Then we don't give them the chance."

Kamran didn't respond, but his nervous expression said enough.

They reached the base of the building, its once-sturdy concrete now riddled with cracks and vines. The faint noise of the infected within grew louder as they approached, accompanied by the occasional scraping of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

Muhammad stopped and turned to Kamran. "We go in fast and stay low. Don't split up, and don't make any unnecessary noise."

"Right. Fast, low, no noise," Kamran muttered, nodding to himself as if trying to summon courage.

Muhammad gave him a long look before pushing open the rusted door. The hinges screamed in protest, and both men winced, freezing as the sound reverberated through the empty street.

The interior was shrouded in shadows, the only light coming from cracks in the walls where the moonlight seeped through. Broken shelves and overturned boxes cluttered the space, creating jagged obstacles and blind corners.

The stench of rot was overwhelming.

"Stay close," Muhammad whispered, gripping his knife tightly as he moved forward.

Kamran followed, his steps shaky.

The first infected appeared almost immediately—a lone figure crouched near a pile of debris, its face buried in what was left of a decayed body. Its shoulders jerked as it tore chunks of flesh from its prey, the sickening sound making Kamran gag.

Muhammad didn't hesitate. He moved swiftly, gripping the creature by the back of the neck and driving his knife into its skull. The body slumped silently, and he lowered it to the ground before nodding for Kamran to keep moving.

As they ventured deeper, the sounds grew louder. The faint snarls turned into low growls, joined by the scraping of claws against concrete.

"Something's ahead," Kamran whispered, his voice trembling.

"I know," Muhammad replied, his jaw tight.

The corridor opened into a larger room—a storage area filled with decaying crates and rusted machinery. At least half a dozen infected milled about, their jerky movements unsettling in the dim light.

"Six of them," Muhammad whispered, calculating.

"Six?" Kamran repeated in disbelief. "That's too many."

"Then stay back and don't get in my way," Muhammad said.

Before Kamran could protest, Muhammad stepped forward, his movements quick and deliberate.

The nearest infected turned toward him, its grotesque face twisting in a snarl. Muhammad ducked under its swing and drove his knife into its side, twisting sharply before shoving it to the ground.

The others turned at the sound, their moans growing into shrieks as they rushed toward him.

"Now's a good time to help!" Muhammad barked, dodging a second attacker's claws.

Kamran froze for a moment, then let out a shout and swung his pipe at an oncoming zombie. The blow connected with its shoulder, sending it staggering. Before it could recover, Kamran swung again, his face contorted with panic as he slammed the pipe repeatedly into its skull.

"Kamran! Behind you!" Muhammad shouted.

Kamran turned just as another infected lunged for him. He yelped and fell backward, the creature crashing on top of him. Its teeth snapped inches from his face, its putrid breath choking him.

Muhammad leapt to his aid, plunging his knife into the back of the zombie's head. He yanked Kamran to his feet before turning to face the remaining attackers.

The fight was brutal. Muhammad moved like a predator, his knife flashing as he dodged and struck with precision. Kamran, though clumsy, swung wildly, his fear giving him bursts of strength.

By the time the last infected collapsed, both men were covered in blood, their chests heaving with exhaustion.

"You alive?" Muhammad asked, wiping his blade on his sleeve.

Kamran nodded weakly, his pipe slipping from his hands. "Barely."

"Good. Let's see what's here before more show up."

They searched the room quickly, finding a stash of cans and a few bottles of water hidden under a fallen shelf. Most of it was rotten, but the sealed items were still salvageable.

Muhammad stuffed what he could into his pack, glancing at Kamran. "Let's move. Before those bastards outside decide they're tired of waiting."

Kamran hesitated, then picked up his pipe, falling into step behind Muhammad.

The walk back to the camp was eerily quiet. When they reached the firelight, the group of survivors turned to face them, their expressions a mix of surprise and respect.

"Well, I'll be damned," Jenna said, lowering her pistol. "You actually pulled it off."

Muhammad didn't answer. He dropped the pack of supplies onto the ground at their feet. "Our deal?"

The rifleman stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "You've proven you're capable. We'll help you—for now."

Muhammad's eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

Kamran shot him a wary glance, his unease clear.

And so began an alliance fraught with tension and mistrust.

Part 4: Fire and Shadows

Muhammad stood near the fire at the makeshift camp, his arms crossed as the rifleman and his people rummaged through the supplies he and Kamran had risked their lives to retrieve. The flickering flames illuminated his bloodied knife and the tense lines etched into his face. Kamran lingered behind him, still gripping the blood-streaked pipe like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

The group of survivors—the rifleman, now introduced as Ijaz, along with Jenna, Faizan, Asad, and Kiran—moved like they owned the space. Ijaz inspected the cans of food with a critical eye, while Jenna leaned against a rusted car, twirling her pistol with a bored smirk.

"Not bad," Ijaz finally said, tossing a dented can back into the bag. "You did better than I thought."

"And the deal?" Muhammad asked, his tone flat.

Ijaz gestured toward the fire. "Relax. We said we'd help, and we will. We'll start with some water and bandages. Enough to get you back on your feet."

"That's not enough," Kamran blurted out.

Everyone turned to him, the weight of their gazes making him falter.

"What was that?" Jenna asked, her smirk widening.

Kamran swallowed hard but pushed forward. "We almost died out there. You sent us in without knowing what was waiting inside. And now you're tossing us scraps like we're beggars?"

Jenna's smile disappeared. She pushed off the car and took a step toward Kamran, her pistol dangling at her side. "You're lucky you're still breathing, saala. Don't test your luck."

"Kamran," Muhammad said sharply, cutting him off. "That's enough."

Kamran opened his mouth to argue but shut it when he saw Muhammad's expression. He stepped back, glaring at Jenna as he muttered under his breath.

Ijaz let out a low chuckle. "You've got a lot to say for someone who barely made it out alive." He turned to Muhammad. "Your friend's right, though. You earned more than scraps."

He gestured to Asad, who handed Muhammad a water bottle and a small first aid kit. "Here," Ijaz said. "It's not much, but it'll keep you going for now."

Muhammad took the supplies, his jaw tightening. "What about the rest? You've got more here than you can use."

"We take care of our own first," Ijaz said evenly. "That's how we've survived this long. If you want more, you'll have to work for it. Again."

Kamran shook his head, muttering, "This isn't worth it..."

"You're alive, aren't you?" Faizan said from the edge of the firelight. His tone was mocking, his words punctuated by a derisive snort.

"Stop talking," Muhammad said coldly to Kamran. Then he turned back to Ijaz. "What kind of work?"

Ijaz chuckled. "We'll see how the night plays out."

An Uneasy Alliance

Later, as the camp settled, Muhammad and Kamran were allowed to sit near the fire—but not too close. The group maintained their dominance, watching the newcomers with wary eyes. The tension was thick, like a coiled snake waiting to strike.

Kamran sat with his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes fixed on the flames. "I don't trust them," he said quietly.

"Neither do I," Muhammad replied, glancing at the others. Jenna was speaking to Asad in hushed tones while Ijaz leaned against a tree, cleaning his rifle with meticulous care. Faizan and Kiran were sorting through the supplies.

"Then why are we still here?" Kamran asked.

"Because we don't have another choice right now," Muhammad said. "We need to recover. Get stronger. Then we move on."

Kamran shook his head. "They're going to use us until there's nothing left. We'll die here."

"Not if we're smarter than them," Muhammad said, his tone hard.

Kamran fell silent, but his unease was palpable.

The Watch

As the night deepened, Ijaz approached Muhammad with a flashlight in hand. "Your turn to take watch," he said, tossing the flashlight at him.

Muhammad caught it without flinching. "What am I watching for?"

Ijaz shrugged. "Anything that moves."

With that, he walked away, leaving Muhammad standing at the edge of the camp.

Muhammad took his position by a crumbling wall, his eyes scanning the dark streets. The city was alive with faint sounds—the distant moans of infected, the rustling of rats scurrying through debris, the occasional crack of something falling in the distance.

Kamran joined him after a while, his expression a mix of fear and fatigue. "You think they'll stab us in the back?" he whispered.

"If they try, they'll regret it," Muhammad replied, his grip tightening on his knife.

Kamran didn't respond, but he stayed close, his pipe resting across his lap.

The hours dragged on, the darkness pressing against them. Muhammad's mind drifted to his family—Subhana, Sajid, Mehmood. He replayed the last moments he'd seen them, searching for anything he might've missed. A direction, a sign, a clue.

"They're out there," he whispered to himself. "I'll find them."

"What?" Kamran asked, glancing at him.

"Nothing," Muhammad replied, his gaze never leaving the shadows.

A Sudden Threat

The first sign of danger came as a faint shuffling sound in the distance. Muhammad stiffened, his hand going to his knife.

"You hear that?" Kamran whispered.

"Quiet," Muhammad hissed.

The sound grew louder—footsteps, deliberate and slow. Then a faint growl echoed through the night.

Muhammad turned toward the camp. "Ijaz! We've got movement!"

The camp came alive in an instant. Jenna and Asad were the first to react, their weapons at the ready. Faizan grabbed a crowbar while Kiran quickly extinguished the fire to avoid drawing attention.

"What is it?" Ijaz asked, his rifle already in hand.

"Infected," Muhammad said. "Coming this way."

"How many?" Jenna demanded.

"Not sure yet," Muhammad replied, but his tone was grim.

The snarls grew louder, joined by the sound of scraping and shuffling feet. From the shadows, shapes began to emerge—first one, then two, then a dozen.

"They're swarming," Faizan muttered, his voice trembling.

Ijaz leveled his rifle. "Everyone spread out. We hold the line. Don't let them get through."

Muhammad stepped forward, gripping his knife tightly. Kamran stayed behind him, his face pale but determined.

The infected charged, their guttural cries ripping through the night.

The battle was chaos. Muhammad moved with practiced efficiency, dodging wild swings from the infected and striking with precision. His knife flashed in the moonlight, severing throats and piercing skulls.

Kamran swung his pipe wildly, each hit accompanied by a frantic grunt. "There's too many!" he shouted, stumbling back as a rotting hand clawed at his leg.

Muhammad grabbed the infected by its arm and drove his knife into its chest, shoving it to the ground. "Keep moving!"

Jenna fired her pistol in quick bursts, the shots echoing through the street. "How many of these things are there?"

"They're coming from the south!" Kiran called out, her crowbar smashing into an infected's skull.

"Hold the line!" Ijaz roared, his rifle taking down an infected with each shot.

Despite their efforts, the horde pressed closer, overwhelming their defenses. One of the infected broke through, lunging at Faizan.

"No!" Kiran screamed, slamming her crowbar into the creature's head. Faizan fell back, blood pouring from a gash on his arm.

"They're breaching!" Kamran yelled, panic rising in his voice.

"We can't stay here!" Muhammad shouted, slashing through another attacker. "We need to retreat!"

Ijaz hesitated, his teeth gritted. Then he nodded sharply. "Fall back! To the alleys!"

The group scrambled, their weapons swinging as they fought to carve a path to safety.

Part 5: Ashes and Betrayal

Muhammad surged forward, slashing his knife through the decayed neck of an infected before pivoting to block another. The horde was closing in fast, their guttural screams merging into a deafening wall of sound. The stink of decay clung to his nose, thick and rancid, making it hard to focus. The street had become a battlefield, the chaotic blend of shouted commands, gunfire, and dying shrieks painting a hellish picture.

Behind him, Kamran swung his pipe with frantic energy, but his strikes lacked precision. A blow landed against a zombie's shoulder instead of its head, and it lunged for him. He stumbled, letting out a desperate cry. "Muhammad!"

Muhammad spun around, his knife driving into the creature's temple just as its teeth came dangerously close to Kamran's arm. The body dropped, and Muhammad shoved Kamran forward. "Keep moving! Don't stop unless you want to die here!"

They scrambled toward the alleys where Ijaz had ordered a retreat. The survivors were in disarray, scattering into clusters as the undead swarmed through their defenses. Kiran's crowbar connected with an infected's jaw, shattering it, but another grabbed her from behind. She screamed as Jenna fired her pistol, the shot hitting its mark just inches from Kiran's head.

"Stick together, dammit!" Ijaz barked, his rifle booming with well-placed shots. "Don't get cut off!"

"Easy for you to say!" Kamran yelled, stumbling over a pile of rubble. His pipe fell from his grip, and he scrambled to pick it up, panic flaring in his eyes.

Muhammad dragged him upright again and shoved him forward. "Stay on your feet!"

Jenna pivoted sharply, her pistol taking out another infected, but her magazine ran dry with a hollow click. "I'm out!" she called, pulling a knife from her belt. She backed toward the others, her movements sharp and deliberate.

Asad wasn't as lucky. He swung his bat with desperation, but one of the infected clawed at his leg, sending him crashing to the ground. Faizan lunged to help, but a second attacker slammed into him, its teeth snapping at his face.

"Get it off me!" Faizan screamed, flailing wildly.

Ijaz turned, his rifle leveling at Faizan's struggle. The crack of the shot echoed like a thunderclap. The infected on Faizan collapsed, its skull shattered, but the bullet grazed Faizan's arm, drawing a howl of pain.

"You shot me, you bastard!" Faizan shouted, blood streaming from the wound.

"Better than letting it rip your throat out!" Ijaz snarled. "Get up and move!"

They managed to break through the horde, forcing their way into a narrow alley cluttered with debris. The sound of the infected receded slightly as the narrow walls forced them to funnel in small groups.

"This way!" Muhammad shouted, leading the group further into the maze of backstreets. The survivors ran, their boots clattering on uneven pavement.

Kiran collapsed against a wall, clutching her ribs and gasping for breath. "How much farther can we go? We'll die out here!"

"Better out here than standing still," Muhammad said sharply, scanning the alley ahead. "Keep going."

Ijaz caught up to him, his rifle slung over his back now as he pulled a machete from his belt. His dark eyes locked onto Muhammad's. "We can't outrun them forever. We need to find a choke point and make a stand."

"A stand? Against that?" Kamran exclaimed, pointing back toward the approaching growls. "Are you out of your mind?"

Ijaz ignored him, addressing the group instead. "There's a bottleneck near the next block—a construction site with scaffolding. If we're careful, we can use it to slow them down."

"Or get ourselves cornered," Kamran muttered, his voice laced with panic.

"We don't have another choice," Muhammad said, his tone firm. "Move."

The alley opened into a partially collapsed intersection, the remnants of an unfinished building looming above them. Scaffolding covered one side, forming a jagged wall that offered some semblance of defense. Ijaz gestured for the group to climb.

"Kiran, Asad, get those planks in place," Ijaz barked. "We're blocking this path."

They worked frantically, dragging loose boards and debris into position as makeshift barricades. Jenna, still breathing heavily, climbed onto the scaffolding and took a position with a piece of rebar in hand.

Muhammad turned to Kamran. "Get up there with her. You'll have a better angle."

"And what about you?" Kamran asked, his hands trembling.

"I'll hold them here," Muhammad replied, gripping his knife tightly. "Move!"

The infected swarmed into the intersection moments later, their numbers seeming endless as they crashed into the barricades with wild abandon.

Ijaz moved with precision, his machete carving through skulls and necks with practiced efficiency. Muhammad mirrored his movements, using speed and precision to keep the horde at bay. Kiran swung her crowbar from above, smashing heads when the undead broke through gaps in the barricade.

Kamran swung down wildly from his perch, his pipe connecting with the head of an infected trying to scale the scaffolding. His strikes lacked control, but desperation gave them strength. "Muhammad, we can't hold this much longer!"

"We don't have to hold it forever!" Muhammad shouted back, kicking a zombie in the chest and driving his blade into another.

Ijaz cut through two infected before turning to Jenna. "Reload your damn pistol and make it count!"

Jenna smirked, tossing the empty gun at the feet of an approaching zombie before leaping down into the fray with her knife. "I've got all the ammo I need right here," she said, plunging the blade into its eye socket.

The barricade began to splinter under the weight of the horde, the infected clawing through gaps and breaking apart boards. One of them lunged over the debris, grabbing Faizan by the arm.

He screamed as it bit into him, blood pouring from the wound. "Help me!" he shrieked, his eyes wide with terror.

Ijaz didn't hesitate. He spun and buried his machete into Faizan's chest, silencing him instantly. "Weak links die fast," he growled, shoving the corpse back toward the advancing horde.

Kamran froze, his face paling as he watched Ijaz's ruthless efficiency. "You just… he was alive!"

"Not for long," Ijaz snapped. "Keep fighting, or you'll be next!"

The rest of the group pressed harder, their desperation driving them to fight with a ferocity born of survival. Boards shattered, metal screeched, and blood painted the ground.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last of the infected collapsed under their combined assault. The air was thick with the smell of rot and blood, the moans of the dying fading into silence.

Muhammad leaned against the wall, his chest heaving. Kamran dropped his pipe, staring numbly at the wreckage around them.

"You killed him," Kamran whispered, his voice hollow.

Ijaz wiped his blade on his sleeve and glared at Kamran. "He was dead the moment he got bit. I just saved us the trouble."

"You're a monster," Kamran spat.

Ijaz smirked. "Welcome to the new world, kid."

Muhammad watched the exchange in silence, his grip on his knife tightening. He had seen men like Ijaz before—dangerous, pragmatic, and willing to sacrifice anyone for survival. His gaze shifted to Kamran, who looked ready to snap.

"Stay focused," Muhammad said quietly to Kamran. "We'll deal with him later."

Kamran nodded hesitantly, his eyes darting toward Ijaz before settling on Muhammad.

For now, survival was their only goal.

Part 6: Survival's Edge

The air around them was thick with the stench of blood and rot, an oppressive miasma that clung to the survivors like a second skin. The destroyed barricade was little more than splinters and twisted metal, the ground littered with broken bodies—some still twitching in a mockery of life. The sounds of the horde had finally faded into silence, but tension still crackled between the living.

Muhammad stood apart, his knife lowered but not forgotten, its blade still slick with gore. He scanned the faces of those around him—Ijaz cold and commanding, Kiran visibly shaken, Jenna smugly cleaning her bloodied knife, and Kamran still wide-eyed and trembling from the chaos.

"We can't keep this up," Kamran finally said, his voice low but strained. "Not like this."

"You think we're stopping here?" Ijaz shot back, his tone sharp and biting. He gestured toward the crumbling scaffolding and the ruined streets beyond. "The moment we pause, those things catch up. We move, or we die."

"We just fought an entire swarm!" Kamran shouted, his sudden outburst surprising everyone, even himself. His hands were shaking, but his voice grew louder. "You keep throwing us into this like we're expendable! We're not even part of your damn group, and you're already treating us like sacrifices!"

Jenna's chuckle broke the tense silence. "You're not wrong," she said, shrugging. "You're useful while you're breathing. But if you're not useful anymore…" She trailed off, letting the implication hang.

Muhammad stepped in front of Kamran, his stance protective. "Say that again."

Jenna tilted her head, her smirk fading. "What? You don't like hearing the truth?"

"Enough!" Ijaz barked, slamming the butt of his machete against a chunk of rubble. "If you don't have the strength to keep going, that's fine. Stay here, make friends with the next horde, and die. Otherwise, shut your mouth, pick up your damn pipe, and walk."

Kamran fell silent, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the pipe. His gaze flicked between Muhammad and Ijaz, a mix of fear and anger simmering beneath the surface.

Muhammad turned back to Ijaz. "Where are we heading now?"

Ijaz wiped his machete clean on his sleeve. "There's an old apartment block about a mile from here. It'll have walls, higher ground, and places to fortify. If we're lucky, it might still have supplies."

"And if it doesn't?" Kiran asked, her voice laced with fatigue.

"Then we move on," Ijaz replied coldly.

"Keep moving," Muhammad murmured, echoing the man's words. His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed the same weariness that clung to all of them.

He looked to Kamran. "Let's go."

They moved through the narrow streets in tense silence. The ruined city stretched before them like a labyrinth, its desolation a cruel reminder of how much they had lost. The buildings loomed high and broken, their jagged silhouettes cutting into the dark sky.

Kamran walked close to Muhammad, his pipe resting against his shoulder. He glanced occasionally at the others—Ijaz and Jenna walking at the front, their weapons ready, and Kiran trailing behind, her steps unsteady.

"What's the plan with them?" Kamran whispered, keeping his voice low.

Muhammad glanced at him briefly. "We stay alive. That's the plan."

"I'm serious," Kamran pressed. "They'll use us until we're useless. You saw what Ijaz did back there. Faizan wasn't even fully gone, and he—"

"Keep your voice down," Muhammad interrupted, his tone sharp but quiet. He looked over his shoulder, making sure the others weren't listening.

"They're not our allies," Muhammad continued. "But if they know the city better than we do, we'll need them to get through it. Until we're in a better position, we play along."

"And after that?"

"Then we see who's still standing."

Kamran nodded hesitantly, though his unease was clear.

The sound of a faint growl stopped the group in their tracks. Everyone froze, their weapons at the ready. Ijaz raised a hand, signaling for silence.

The growling grew louder, accompanied by a strange scraping sound. It echoed down the narrow alleyway ahead, the dim light revealing a large, shuffling figure.

"What the hell is that?" Kiran whispered, her voice trembling.

The creature emerged into the pale light, its size dwarfing any infected they'd encountered before. Its body was bloated and deformed, its head lolling to one side as if it were barely attached. The skin on its arms and chest was stretched thin, splitting in places to reveal muscle and bone beneath. It dragged one leg behind it, but its sheer size made up for any lack of speed.

"A variant," Ijaz muttered, gripping his rifle tightly.

Jenna cursed under her breath, pulling out a magazine and loading her pistol with deliberate precision. "This just keeps getting better."

"What's a variant?" Kamran asked, his voice rising in pitch.

Ijaz glared at him. "It's what happens when the infected don't die the way they're supposed to. And this one's a big one. Stay quiet, and maybe it won't notice us."

The creature let out a low, gurgling snarl, its head jerking in their direction. It sniffed the air, its sunken eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

"Well," Jenna said dryly. "So much for quiet."

The variant lunged forward with shocking speed for its size, its massive arms slamming against the walls of the alley as it barreled toward them.

"Scatter!" Ijaz shouted.

The group split in all directions, the alley erupting into chaos as the variant charged through debris, sending rubble flying. Muhammad pulled Kamran to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature's swinging arm. The impact cracked the concrete where they had stood moments before.

"Go for the head!" Ijaz yelled, firing his rifle. The bullets struck the variant, but it barely flinched, its thick skin absorbing the shots.

"Not working!" Jenna shouted, emptying her pistol into the creature's chest.

"Keep it distracted!" Muhammad yelled, darting around the creature's flank.

As it turned toward Kiran, who was scrambling to reload her weapon, Muhammad leapt onto a nearby pile of debris and launched himself onto its back. His knife plunged into its neck, but the blade barely sank into its bloated flesh. The creature roared, thrashing violently as it reached for him.

"Get down from there!" Ijaz barked, his rifle firing again.

Muhammad pulled his knife free, narrowly avoiding the creature's grasp as he jumped off its back. The variant swung wildly, its massive arm catching Jenna and sending her crashing into the wall. She crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

"Jenna!" Kiran screamed, rushing to her.

Kamran froze, his pipe shaking in his hands. "What do we do?"

"Hit it hard!" Muhammad shouted, dodging another strike. He slashed at its legs, aiming for the tendons, but the thick skin resisted his blade.

Ijaz stepped forward, his expression grim. "Cover me."

He pulled a grenade from his belt, its pin already primed. Without waiting for a response, he charged forward, shoving the explosive against the creature's bloated chest.

"Get back!" Ijaz roared, diving away.

The grenade detonated with a deafening explosion, the shockwave sending the group sprawling. The variant let out a hideous wail, its body collapsing in on itself as the blast tore through its flesh.

When the dust settled, Muhammad was the first to rise. He scanned the scene, coughing as debris settled around him.

The creature lay motionless, its body smoking and torn apart.

"You okay?" Muhammad called to Kamran, who sat slumped against a wall, dazed but alive.

"I think so," Kamran muttered, wincing as he tried to stand.

Jenna groaned as Kiran helped her to her feet. "Next time, let's avoid the exploding zombie, yeah?"

Ijaz picked himself up, his face streaked with blood but otherwise unscathed. He looked at the ruined variant and smirked. "Told you we just had to hit it harder."

"Let's keep moving," Muhammad said, his voice steady. "Before the noise attracts more of them."

The group pressed on, but the cracks in their uneasy alliance were beginning to show.

Part 7: Beneath the Surface

The group trudged onward through the debris-strewn streets, their movements sluggish and labored after the fight. The distant groans of scattered infected echoed faintly, a grim reminder that even in apparent silence, the city teemed with danger. Dust from the explosion still lingered in the air, settling into the fabric of their clothes and stinging their throats.

No one spoke for a long time. Every step felt heavier than the last, the adrenaline from the encounter fading and leaving behind only exhaustion and tension.

Muhammad walked near the front, scanning the streets with a steely intensity. Beside him, Kamran moved nervously, his pipe resting against his shoulder. Every now and then, Kamran would glance back at the others—Ijaz leading stoically, Jenna limping slightly but trying not to show it, Kiran sticking close to Jenna's side, her wide eyes darting around as if expecting an attack from every shadow.

"They're not worth it," Kamran muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Muhammad to hear.

"What?"

"These people," Kamran said, his voice sharper now. "We're wasting our energy following them. You saw what Ijaz did. He didn't hesitate to use that grenade, didn't care if it took all of us out along with that… thing."

"He saved our lives," Muhammad replied curtly.

Kamran let out a bitter laugh. "Sure. For now. But the second he thinks we're a liability? You know what happens."

"Keep your voice down," Muhammad warned, his tone low but edged with steel. He glanced back, making sure the others weren't listening.

Kamran fell silent, but his expression remained stormy.

As they turned a corner, a distant commotion broke the quiet. The sound of shouting, interspersed with the occasional clang of metal, reached their ears. The group froze.

Ijaz raised a hand for silence, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon. He gestured for everyone to move into the shadows of an old market stall.

"Stay low," Ijaz said in a harsh whisper, his rifle already in his hands.

Muhammad knelt behind a broken stall, peeking out cautiously. The commotion grew louder, and shapes began to emerge in the dim light. A group of people—survivors—were being pushed forward at gunpoint by several heavily armed men.

Kamran leaned closer to Muhammad. "What the hell is this?"

"Trouble," Muhammad replied grimly.

The armed men appeared organized, their uniforms mismatched but well-maintained, with weapons ranging from shotguns to semi-automatic rifles. The group they were corralling looked terrified—a mix of young and old, families clutching each other as they were forced along.

"Raiders," Jenna murmured, her lip curling.

Ijaz observed them carefully, his face unreadable.

"We take them out," Kiran whispered, though her voice trembled.

"And get ourselves killed in the process?" Jenna hissed. "Brilliant idea, genius."

Muhammad's fists clenched. The raiders were herding the captives toward an old parking garage at the edge of the street. The survivors didn't resist—likely too scared to try.

"We could circle around them," Kamran suggested, his voice low. "Get out of here while they're distracted."

Ijaz's eyes flicked to Kamran. "Run now, and we'll cross paths with them again. Only difference is, we won't see them coming next time."

"They outnumber us," Jenna said flatly. "We charge in, and they'll tear us to pieces."

Muhammad turned to Ijaz. "Then we don't charge in. We pick them off, fast and quiet."

Ijaz tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing him. "You think we're ghosts or something?"

"You wanted to keep moving through this hellhole," Muhammad said. "We'll never make it far with these guys at our backs."

Ijaz's lips pressed into a thin line. After a tense moment, he nodded. "Fine. But if this goes wrong, it's your blood, not mine."

The plan formed quickly and without much debate. Jenna and Kiran would provide a distraction from the alleyway, creating noise to draw the attention of the raiders at the front. Ijaz would take up a sniper position atop a nearby building, his rifle trained on the captors with guns.

Muhammad, Kamran, and Jenna would handle the melee on the ground, slipping into the parking garage where the prisoners were being forced. The element of surprise would be their best advantage.

Kamran looked like he was about to throw up. "This isn't a plan," he whispered to Muhammad as they crept along the edge of a broken wall.

"It's survival," Muhammad replied.

They waited for Jenna and Kiran to start the distraction. The sharp clang of metal on concrete echoed through the alley, followed by Jenna's mocking shout. "Hey, saaley! Forget how to tie your shoes?"

The raiders' heads whipped around at the noise. "Stay here!" one of them barked, motioning for two of his men to follow him toward the alley.

Ijaz didn't miss his cue. A single crack of his rifle sent one raider crumpling to the ground. The others panicked, shouting orders as chaos erupted.

Muhammad seized the moment. He darted toward the parking garage, Kamran stumbling after him. They stayed low, slipping through the shadows toward the group guarding the prisoners.

The first raider didn't see him coming. Muhammad drove his knife into the man's throat, twisting the blade before pulling it free. The body hit the ground with a dull thud.

Kamran moved to swing his pipe at the second, but the man turned, spotting him. The raider raised his gun, but Muhammad shoved Kamran aside, tackling the man before he could fire. They struggled briefly, the raider swinging wildly before Muhammad buried his knife into his chest.

The remaining guards were distracted, firing aimlessly toward the alley where Jenna continued to make noise. Kiran joined in, throwing pieces of debris to keep their attention divided.

Muhammad motioned to the captives. "Go! Now!"

A man in his forties, clearly a father by the way he shielded his children with his body, hesitated before nodding. He hurried the group forward, their faces pale but grateful.

"Behind you!" Kamran shouted.

Muhammad turned just in time to see another raider charging at him with a crowbar. He ducked under the swing, slashing at the man's leg. The raider cried out, stumbling, and Muhammad finished him with a clean strike to the neck.

"Move!" Muhammad barked, shoving Kamran forward.

The freed survivors poured out of the garage, running toward safety. The raiders were losing cohesion, shouting orders that went unheard amidst the chaos.

Ijaz's rifle cracked again, and another raider fell. The remaining captors started retreating, dragging their injured with them as they cursed loudly.

Jenna and Kiran emerged from the alley, their faces flushed but triumphant. "Guess we're not all useless, huh?" Jenna said, flashing a grin.

Ijaz climbed down from his perch, his expression neutral. "You took too long," he said.

Muhammad ignored him, turning to the freed prisoners. "Are there others?"

The father shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No… thank you. Thank you for saving us."

Muhammad nodded sharply. "Keep moving. Stay quiet and stick to the alleys. It's not safe out here."

The man hesitated, then embraced Muhammad briefly before leading his family and the others into the shadows.

As the group regrouped, the adrenaline faded, replaced by the heavy weight of exhaustion.

"That went better than expected," Jenna said, wiping sweat from her brow.

Ijaz eyed Muhammad. "You did good. For now."

Kamran shot Ijaz a glare but said nothing.

Muhammad glanced at the fading silhouettes of the prisoners. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the smallest glimmer of satisfaction.

But he knew it wouldn't last.

(End of Chapter)