Surrounded-1

"Wait! Kid, I think there's something wrong with this picture." Old Man Vaidya's voice crackled through the radio, urgent and sharp. Harman halted mid-step, signaling his men to fan out and clear the surrounding zombies. He kept his stance firm, eyes scanning the eerie, desolate streets. Something about this didn't sit right.

"What is it, old man?" Harman asked, gripping the radio tighter.

"Don't you think their numbers should be higher? We're getting close to the epicenter—just two kilometers from the crash site. This place should be swarming, yet all we're seeing are a few stragglers here and there."

"Maybe they got scared of your machine gun?" Harman chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. "You might hold the record for the most kills in the shortest amount of time."

"My gut says otherwise, kid." Vaidya wasn't amused. "Something isn't adding up. Maybe we should regroup and hold our position for an hour. See where they're going; figure out what's keeping them away."

"Are you serious?" Harman's voice rose slightly. "Weren't you the one ranting about not letting Veer beat us to the target? If we stop now, he'll take advantage of the delay and get there first. We won't be able to retrieve anything."

"Are you really still scared of him?" Vaidya scoffed. "He might be a big guy, but in front of my machine gun, his armor would melt like butter. Don't worry about the race. Slow and steady wins, remember?"

"I disagree." Harman shook his head. "I don't want to stop. Maybe we should take a vote."

"Pointless," the old man grunted. "There are only two of us out here." They both chuckled for a moment before the silence enveloped them.

 Harman clenched his jaw. He had spent years in Veer's shadow, both in the army and now in this apocalyptic nightmare. He refused to let history repeat itself. This was his chance to prove himself. He was ready to take the risk!

Vaidya, on the other hand, trusted his instincts. They had saved him countless times before, and this time wouldn't be any different. He wasn't just responsible for himself; he had people relying on him—families, children. If all his men died, the shelter they had built would crumble. The women and elderly weren't skilled scavengers. Survival meant making smart choices, not reckless ones.

"So that's it, then?" Harman finally said.

"Yeah, I think this is it. But, uh... can you lend me that machine gun, though?" A smirk tugged at his lips.

"In your dreams, kid!" Vaidya barked out a laugh. "I poured my heart and soul into this thing. You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands."

"Maybe I'll find something even better out there," Harman teased. "If the rumors are true."

"Maybe," Vaidya admitted. "But it won't have the same class as me! A kid with a gun is still just a kid!"

"You never fail to irritate me, old man." Harman shook his head but grinned. "I like you. Maybe when we get back to base, we'll have a drink. I know you've got some vintage stuff stashed away in your office."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Vaidya replied, feigning innocence.

"Sure you don't." Harman smirked. "See you later, old man. I'll bring you something good."

"Take care, kid. And don't do anything stupid."

Without another word, they parted ways. Their alliance had always been temporary, and with the real objective so close, Harman was confident his two dozen men were more than enough to handle whatever came next.

Though Vaidya's machine gun would've been useful, Harman had absolute faith in his team. They were battle-hardened, well-equipped, and the best he could ask for. These were his brothers—the kind of men who had his back no matter what.

Maybe the old man would regret his decision. Harman couldn't wait to see the grumpy scowl on his face when he returned victorious.

With that thought fueling him, he gave the order to march forward. They were now entering the danger zone—an area from which no one had ever returned.

Old Man Vaidya didn't retreat. Instead, he ordered his people to take shelter in a nearby building—one eerily devoid of zombies. That, more than anything, put him on edge. In all the time since the outbreak, he had never seen the streets this... clean.

He clenched his radio, debating whether to contact Harman again. Every instinct screamed at him to call the kid back, but Harman had made his choice. And in this world, choices had consequences.

It took his group half an hour to fortify their position. If they stayed quiet, they could last the night. The building was hidden well enough.

Then, it happened.

A deafening, bone-chilling scream tore through the night. It wasn't human. It wasn't natural.

The sound was more than just noise—it was agony, fear, rage. It was the sky itself wailing, a chorus of tormented voices screaming for mercy. The ground trembled, buildings shuddered, and loose structures collapsed under the sheer resonance.

It was a sound Vaidya had only heard once before.

Runner zombies.

But this wasn't just a few. This was an army. An unholy, monstrous tide.

The men in his group began to sweat, fear gripping them in icy hands. Some collapsed, curling into fetal positions, mumbling prayers, already accepting their fate.

"Get up!" Vaidya barked, snapping them out of their stupor. "We don't have time for fear! Get the lights off! Board every opening! No noise, no movement!"

They scrambled to follow orders, barring windows and barricading doors. But deep down, Vaidya knew it wasn't enough. These repairs were makeshift at best. If those things found them, there'd be no escape.

He considered running, but that would only ensure a quicker death. Their best bet was to stay invisible—to pray that whatever was out there would pass them by.

He just hoped Harman realized the danger before it was too late.

Because if those runners found his people first... no one was making it out alive.