Frostbiters Emerge

A thin haze of snow still drifted across the courtyard when the first cry went up from the perimeter. Leila was near the storage wing, checking on newly stacked firewood, when she heard a sharp shout from one of the watchtowers. The urgency in the voice jolted her heart into a faster beat.

"Frostbiters! Northeast corner!"

The words sent a collective ripple of alarm through the shelter. People dropped what they were doing, hands fumbling for rifles, axes, or improvised weapons. Leila hastened to the watchtower ladder, climbing up two rungs at a time. The cold wind stung her face, but she barely noticed—her mind locked on the new threat: half-frozen zombies, already being called "frostbiters."

Through swirling flakes, she spotted half a dozen figures trudging toward the compound—arms stiff, skin tinted with a bluish pallor where flesh was still exposed. They moved slower than typical walkers, presumably encumbered by ice and congealed rot. But Leila knew better than to underestimate them. A slowed zombie was still lethal if it managed to grab you.

Brynn, the watcher on duty, handed her a pair of binoculars. "They stumbled from behind the orchard," he reported, breath fogging in the cold. "Must've been drawn by the noise or fires. Hard to see exactly how many."

Leila peered through the lenses. Even in the frosted haze, she made out six or seven distinct shapes. Some wore tattered jackets; one had half a face covered in a sheen of frozen gore. Their limbs jerked in mechanical, almost robotic motions. Deceptively slow. She exhaled sharply. If the community dismissed them as too sluggish to pose a threat, someone would get sloppy—and that was a mistake that cost lives.

"Sound the alarm," Leila ordered, lowering the binoculars. "We need a defense team on the ground. We can't let them get too close to the fence."

Brynn nodded, then signaled to a spotter across the courtyard, who started banging a metal rod against a post—a makeshift alarm that echoed through the snow-laden compound. Within moments, watchers mobilized around the perimeter, rummaging for rifles or crowbars. Though it was day, the cloud-darkened sky cast an almost twilight gloom over everything.

"Fiona," Leila called, spotting the medic's recognizable coat near the storeroom. "We might need you ready for injuries. These things may be slow, but if they bite or scratch—"

Fiona hurried over. "I'll set up near the courtyard gates with a team of volunteers, in case someone gets hurt." Her gaze flicked to Kai and Leila, picking up on the tension but opting not to comment. Instead, she ran off to organize a triage station.

Mark jogged up, breath steaming, carrying a shotgun. "Some watchers will hold the fence line, but if these frostbiters cluster at one point, we'll need a team out there to intercept. The fence is in decent shape, but I'd rather not test it against them."

The swirling snow made it tough to see if more undead lurked behind the first wave. "We'll try a pincer," she suggested. "You take a group outside through the west gate, circle around behind them. We'll hold the fence from inside. If they start to cluster, someone can pick them off from behind."

Mark nodded. "On it." He waved to a handful of watchers, leading them toward the west gate.

That left Leila, Kai, and a small knot of defenders near the eastern fence. She exhaled, adrenaline coiling through her nerves. "We meet them here if they break through, or if Mark's group can't intercept in time."

Kai gave a small nod of understanding, stepping up beside her. Their shoulders nearly brushed, a quiet synergy forming. She fought the surge of comfort that threatened to distract her—not now, she told herself. Focus.

Despite the slow pace, they advanced relentlessly. Some watchers lined the fence, rifles propped on the top bar, waiting for a clear shot. Leila stood at a gap between two planks, Kai at her shoulder. Snow flurries battered their faces, but they steadied themselves, scanning for Mark's team. Presumably, he'd be circling around to approach from behind. For the moment, though, the zombies had a direct line to the fence.

"Steady," Leila murmured as watchers aimed. "Wait until they're in range." She wanted to avoid wasting bullets on distant shots that might go wide, especially through the shifting snow.

At about twenty yards out, the first walker angled toward the fence. It seemed to sense the cluster of living inside, moaning again—a guttural, raspy sound. Leila stiffened. "All right, take them."

Shots rang out. Muzzle flashes lit the swirling snow. Two of the zombies crumpled, bullets piercing their partially frozen brains. Another was hit in the shoulder, staggering but not dropping. The watchers fumbled to reload—managing firearms with gloved hands in freezing conditions was a chore.

Kai calmly adjusted his rifle, breathing steady. Leila caught a glimpse of his profile: jaw set, eyes sharp. He aimed at the walker that was still crawling forward, ignoring its shattered shoulder. Bang. A direct hit to the skull. 

A strangled shout came from a watcher farther down the fence—Tanya, who'd reloaded too slowly. One frostbiter, stooping in the snow, lurched forward with surprising speed for something half-encased in ice. It latched onto the chain-link, thrashing violently. She nearly lost her grip on the rifle, the creature's teeth snapping inches from her gloves.

Leila lunged over, bracing Tanya's shoulder to keep her from toppling back. Before the zombie could claw higher, Kai pivoted, hooking his rifle over his shoulder and drawing the hatchet. With a swift blow, he crashed it into the frostbiter's skull through the fence links. The impact cracked the creature's frozen exterior, a sickening crunch echoing as it went limp.

Tanya gasped, stepping back, face pale. "Thanks…" she croaked, voice trembling.

Leila nodded curtly, adrenaline surging. "Keep alert." She spared a glance at Kai, who calmly reclaimed a vantage point to check the rest of the oncoming undead. He fights efficiently, she noted with a flicker of admiration. 

Shots continued from watchers. Mark's group suddenly appeared at the orchard's flank—figures weaving between the barren apple trees to come up behind the undead. Gunfire cracked in the swirling snow. Three more zombies collapsed. Another, apparently missing half a leg, crawled on the ground until Mark ended it with a shotgun blast.

When the last frostbiter fell silent, the only sounds were labored breathing and the soft hiss of windblown snow. No one dared lower their weapons for a moment, scanning the drift-laden orchard in case more lurkers emerged. But all seemed clear. The watchers exhaled relief, tension unwinding from their shoulders.

Kai joined her side, stooping to inspect the undead corpse. "Half-frozen, yes, but still dangerous," he noted quietly, recalling how quickly one had lunged at Tanya. She nodded in agreement.

She turned to the watchers. "Good work," she praised in a steady voice. "No one got hurt?" They confirmed the close calls but no actual injuries beyond bruises and a few scrapes. Fiona, who'd rushed over to check, confirmed the same. Relief flickered across Leila's expression.

As the group began cleaning up the remains—dragging corpses away from the fence to be burned—Leila found herself standing next to Kai in the swirling snow. Despite her best efforts to maintain stoicism, she felt a swell of gratitude for how he'd intervened at just the right moment to save Tanya. And not just that—he had kept an eye on her too, quietly coordinating maneuvers that ensured they both stayed safe.

She inhaled, forcing herself to speak. "I—thank you," she began in a tone softer than usual, eyes lingering on his for a moment. "For what you did. Tanya… she might've—" She trailed off, uncertain how to voice the swirl of emotions. The moment felt charged with an intimacy she wasn't comfortable displaying openly.

Kai offered a small, accepting tilt of his head. "It's what we do," he replied, no arrogance or flourish in his statement. He seemed prepared to say more, but hesitated.

Leila's heart pounded. A part of her yearned to let the words spill out—thank you for being there, for understanding without pushing, for making me feel safer than I have in a long time. But the memory of Jace and Ellie's betrayal flooded back, reminding her how quickly closeness could turn into heartbreak. Her jaw tightened.

She pressed her lips together, forcibly reverting to the crispness that formed her protective shell. "Just… keep up the good work. We need watchers like you." She turned away abruptly, arms crossing. The tension in her posture returned, as though snapping shut an emotional door she'd momentarily cracked open.

Kai's eyes flickered with something akin to hurt or understanding—maybe both. But he didn't press. He merely nodded again, letting her keep her defenses. The distance between them felt palpable, a silent acknowledgement that each had feelings unspoken, overshadowed by the constant threat of survival.

Leila joined Mark briefly to confirm no more undead had come from behind the orchard. Satisfied, she retreated to the main courtyard, mind churning over the close call. Her chest still warmed at the memory of Kai's swift action, a contradictory feeling of safety and fear. She was grateful, yet also terrified of letting that gratitude shift into deeper intimacy.

She found Fiona amid a group stacking fresh logs near a fire pit. The medic offered a pointed glance as if to say, Were you about to let him in for a second there? But Leila shook her head minutely, face set in lines that brooked no discussion. She was not ready, not yet.