Protect

Lili, Paulie, and Marcus hurried through the chaotic streets, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they dodged panicked townsfolk and the occasional infected. Lili led the way, her eyes scanning the path ahead. "This way!" she shouted, gesturing toward a side street that would take them closer to the temple. But as they neared the town's main entrance, the sound of shouting and pleading stopped them in their tracks.

The gate was just ahead, and what they saw made their blood run cold. A line of soldiers blocked the entrance, their shields locked together in an impenetrable wall. The banner of the Roose family fluttered above them, a stark reminder of the power that now held the town in its grip. The soldiers stood firm, their faces grim and unyielding, as a crowd of desperate townsfolk screamed and pleaded for them to open the gate.

Paulie's eyes widened as he took in the scene. "This is crazy," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. People of all ages—parents clutching their children, the elderly struggling to stand, even young kids crying out for help—were pressed against the soldiers' shields, their voices rising in a desperate chorus. "Open the gate! Let us out! Please!"

Marcus stepped closer to Lili, his voice low and urgent. "My lady, we need to keep moving. This isn't our fight. Let's get out of here."

But Lili didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on the scene before her, a mix of anger and curiosity burning in her chest. "Wait," she said, her voice firm. "I want to see what happens."

Marcus frowned, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "This isn't the time for curiosity, my lady. The infected could be here any moment. We need to go."

Lili shook her head, her gaze never leaving the crowd. "These people are desperate, Marcus. They're just trying to survive. How can we just walk away?"

Paulie glanced between Lili and Marcus, his expression uneasy. "Lili, he's right. We can't help them if we're dead. Let's go."

But Lili stayed rooted to the spot, her heart pounding as she watched the scene unfold. A man in the crowd—a father, his face streaked with dirt and tears—pushed his way to the front, his voice breaking as he begged the soldiers. "Please, sir! My children… they're just kids! Let us through! We'll die if we stay here!"

At the center of the soldier's line stood a man wearing a helmet adorned with a bear's head, its snarling visage casting a menacing shadow over his face. The commander's expression didn't change as he stared down at the man, his voice cold and detached. "I follow the Roose family's orders. They said to hold the gate until they arrive. No one leaves until then."

The crowd erupted in outrage, their cries growing louder. An elderly woman stepped forward, her voice trembling but fierce. "What if your mother was in this crowd? Would you endanger her life—sacrifice her—just to serve some rich family?"

The commander paused, his gaze flickering to the woman for a moment. Then, in a calm, almost chilling voice, he replied, "Yes. Her life doesn't have any value."

The crowd fell silent, stunned by the callousness of his words. Lili's stomach churned, her fists clenching at her sides. "How can he say that?" she whispered, her voice trembling with anger. "How can he just… not care?"

Marcus stepped closer, his tone firm but gentle. "My lady, we can't change this. We need to move."

Paulie opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, a deep, resonant sound cut through the chaos. The horns. Their low, mournful notes echoed across the town, silencing the crowd and freezing everyone in place. It was a sound that sent a chill down Paulie's spine, a sound that brought back memories he'd tried to bury. The Roose family's call to obedience—a signal that demanded attention, submission, and fear.

The crowd fell silent, their cries and pleas dying in their throats as all eyes turned toward the source of the sound. From the distance, a grand wagon emerged, drawn by two magnificent horses whose coats gleamed like polished silver in the fading light. The wagon itself was a symbol of opulence, its dark wood adorned with intricate carvings and the Roose family crest gleaming in gold.

Surrounding the wagon was a tight formation of soldiers, their shields raised and locked together in an unbreakable wall. They moved in perfect unison, their steps deliberate and their faces impassive. the soldiers shoved aside desperate townsfolk who dared to get too close, their actions cold and mechanical.

Paulie's jaw tightened as he watched the scene unfold. The horns, the wagon, the soldiers—it was all too familiar. The Roose family's arrival wasn't just a display of power; it was a reminder of their control, their dominance over everyone and everything. And now, they were here, at the gate, while the town burned and its people suffered.

Lili's eyes widened as she took in the sight, her curiosity momentarily overriding her fear. "What are they doing here?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Marcus's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, his expression grim. "Nothing good," he muttered. "We need to go. Now."

But no one moved. The crowd, the soldiers, even the infected seemed to pause as the wagon drew closer, its presence commanding absolute attention. The horns sounded again, their notes reverberating through the air like a funeral dirge. Paulie's chest tightened, his mind racing with memories he'd tried to forget. The Roose family's call to obedience wasn't just a signal—it was a warning. And now, it was here, in the heart of the chaos, demanding submission.

The wagon stopped just short of the gate, its horses snorting and pawing at the ground. The soldiers around it stood at attention, their shields forming an impenetrable barrier.

Lili's eyes narrowed as she watched the grand wagon come to a halt. "That's the Roose family," she said, her voice low but sharp. "They must be escaping." She paused, her gaze fixed on the figure stepping out of the wagon. Even from a distance, she recognized him instantly. The sharp features, the arrogant posture, the air of entitlement—it was unmistakably Charlos, the son of Carmine Roose.

The soldier guarding the wagon stepped forward, his voice booming across the square. "Everyone, bow for his majesty!"

The crowd froze, their faces a mix of shock and disbelief. For a moment, there was silence, as if no one could quite process what they were hearing. Then, the murmurs began—low at first, but quickly rising into a chorus of outrage.

"Bow? Are you serious?!" someone shouted from the crowd.

"The city's falling apart, and they want us to bow?!" another voice cried.

"We're dying out here, and they're playing royalty?!"

The protests grew louder, the crowd's anger boiling over. People began to push forward, their desperation turning to rage. Fights broke out as some tried to charge the soldiers, while others shouted insults at Charlos and his family. The soldiers, however, stood their ground, their shields forming an unyielding wall. They showed no emotion, no hesitation, as if the chaos around them was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Charlos, meanwhile, seemed entirely unfazed. He closed the wagon door behind him, sealing his sister and brother inside, and stepped down onto the cobblestones with an air of casual indifference. His eyes scanned the crowd with a look of mild disdain, as if the chaos and suffering around him were beneath his notice. He made his way toward the commander with the bear-shaped helmet, his steps unhurried, his expression calm.

Marcus grabbed Lili's arm, his voice urgent. "My lady, we need to move. Now. This isn't our fight."

But Lili didn't budge. Her eyes were locked on Charlos, her mind racing. "They're not going to open the gate with this many people blocking the way," she said, her voice tense. "They'll have to do something."

Paulie, too, was rooted to the spot, his curiosity outweighing his sense of self-preservation. "I want to see what happens," he said, his eyes fixed on Charlos. "This… this is insane."

Marcus groaned in frustration, his hand tightening on Lili's arm. "This is a terrible idea," he muttered, but he didn't force them to leave. Instead, he positioned himself slightly in front of them, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to act if things turned violent.

Charlos strode toward the commander with an air of effortless authority, his polished boots clicking against the cobblestones. Behind him, the crowd's protests grew louder, their anger boiling over as they realized the Roose family's priorities lay not with the people, but with their own wealth and survival. Yet Charlos didn't so much as glance in their direction. His focus was entirely on the commander, who stood at attention, his bear-shaped helmet gleaming in the dim light.

As Charlos approached, the commander bowed deeply, his voice respectful but tinged with urgency. "My lord, we held the gate as ordered until you and your family arrived."

Charlos gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. "Good. But this isn't enough. There's another wagon coming through this direction. It carries every valuable my family owns. On behalf of my father, I will ensure its protection."

The commander's brow furrowed, his voice cautious. "My lord, with this many people blocking the gate, it will be a challenge to get the wagon out of town. And there's also the risk of the wagon being robbed. The crowd is already—"

Charlos raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. The gesture was sharp, commanding, and the commander fell silent immediately. Charlos stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned toward the commander's ear. His lips moved slowly, deliberately, and though his words were inaudible to the crowd, the weight of them was unmistakable.

The commander's face shifted as Charlos spoke—first confusion, then shock, and finally a grim understanding. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked as though he might protest. But then he nodded, his expression hardening into one of resolve. Whatever Charlos had said, it was clear the commander had no choice but to obey.

The crowd, sensing something was amiss, grew restless. Their shouts grew louder, their movements more frantic. "What are they planning?!" someone yelled. "They're going to leave us here to die!" another voice cried.

Charlos turned away from the commander without another word, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. He walked back to the grand wagon, his steps unhurried, He climbed inside, closing the small door behind him with a soft click. Through the window, his face was visible—cold, detached, and utterly devoid of emotion. He simply waited, his hands resting on his knees, as if the world outside the wagon didn't exist.

The commander stood frozen for a moment, his face pale and his jaw clenched. His eyes flicked to the crowd, then back to the wagon, as if weighing his options. But the order had been given, and there was no turning back. He straightened his shoulders, his expression hardening into one of grim determination. He turned to his soldiers, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

"Kill every peasant blocking the way," he commanded, his tone cold and unyielding.

The soldiers hesitated, their eyes wide with shock. Even they, hardened by years of service, seemed unsure. The crowd, too, fell silent, their protests dying in their throats as the weight of the commander's words sank in. For a moment, the square was eerily quiet, the only sound the distant cries of the infected and the crackling of torches.

Then, the commander moved. He unsheathed his iron sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light, and strode toward the man who had been pleading for his family's safety just moments ago. The man stumbled backward, his face pale with terror. "Please," he begged, his voice trembling. "Please, I have a—"

His words were cut off as the commander's sword swung in a single, brutal arc. The man's head fell to the ground before his body crumpled, the sound of it hitting the cobblestones echoing through the square.

The crowd erupted into chaos. Screams filled the air as people scrambled to get away, their faces twisted with fear and disbelief. The soldiers, seeing no other choice, followed the commander's lead. They raised their weapons and advanced, their movements mechanical and unfeeling. The square became a bloodbath, the cries of the innocent mingling with the clash of steel and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.

Through it all, Charlos sat in the wagon, his face impassive. He didn't flinch at the screams, didn't so much as glance out the window. He simply waited, his hands resting on his knees, as if the massacre outside was nothing more than a minor delay.

The commander, his sword dripping with blood, turned back toward the wagon. For the first time in what felt like years, he reached up and removed his helmet. The bear-shaped visage was set carefully on a nearby table, its snarling face now still and silent. Without the helmet, the commander looked older, his face lined with exhaustion and something that might have been regret. But he didn't speak, didn't hesitate. He simply stood there, his sword in hand, as the chaos around him continued to unfold.

____

The screams grew louder, the square now a nightmare of blood and death. The soldiers moved through the crowd like a relentless tide, their blades cutting down anyone who stood in their way. And still, Charlos waited, his expression unchanged, as if the world outside the wagon was nothing more than a fleeting distraction.

Lili, Paulie, and Marcus stood frozen for a moment, their eyes wide with horror as the massacre unfolded before them. The screams, the blood, the sheer brutality of it all—it was too much to process. Lili felt her stomach churn, her hands trembling at her sides. Paulie's face was pale, his usual bravado replaced by a look of stunned disbelief. Even Marcus, the hardened guard, seemed shaken, his grip on his sword tightening as he took a step back.

"We need to go," Marcus said, his voice low and urgent. "Now."

Lili nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She turned away from the scene, her legs moving almost on their own. Paulie grabbed her hand, his grip firm but reassuring. "Just don't look back, okay?" he said, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.

But not looking wasn't enough. The images were already burned into Lili's mind—the commander's sword swinging, the man's head falling, the crowd scattering in terror. She could still hear the distant cries and screams, the sound echoing in her ears like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. Her chest heaved as she ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.

They sprinted through the streets, their footsteps pounding against the cobblestones. The temple wasn't far now, its tall spire visible above the rooftops. Lili focused on it, using it as a beacon to guide her through the chaos. Paulie stayed close, his hand still gripping hers, while Marcus brought up the rear, his sword drawn and his eyes scanning for threats.

The streets were eerily quiet compared to the square, but the tension in the air was palpable. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound made Lili's heart skip a beat. She could still hear the distant screams, the sound growing fainter but no less haunting. Her mind raced, replaying the scene over and over, but she forced herself to keep moving. She couldn't afford to stop, couldn't afford to think.

As they neared the temple, Paulie glanced at her, his voice breaking the silence. "We're almost there," he said, his tone reassuring. "Just a little further."

____

Lenz's heart pounded in his chest as he backed away from the infected nun, her black eyes locked onto him, her movements jerky but unnervingly fast. Her hands clawed at the air, her mouth twisted into a grotesque snarl as she lunged at him. Lenz shoved her with all his strength, sending her stumbling backward, but she didn't fall. She just kept coming, her growls echoing through the hallway.

He glanced around desperately, his eyes landing on a heavy wooden closet against the wall. Without thinking, he grabbed it, his muscles straining as he pushed it forward. The closet toppled over with a loud crash, blocking the infected nun's path. She slammed into it, her hands clawing at the wood, but for now, she was trapped.

Lenz didn't waste a second. He turned and ran down the hallway, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The orphanage was a maze of horrors, every corner hiding another threat. The sounds of growls and shuffling footsteps followed him, driving him forward. He reached the staircase and hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking upward. But then he heard it—a voice. A familiar voice.

"Get off! Let go!" Jackie's voice was strained, filled with panic.

Lenz's heart leapt. He turned away from the stairs and sprinted toward the sound, his legs burning with the effort. He burst into the dining room, his eyes scanning the chaos. Jackie was there, struggling to close the door as an infected man—a cook, by the looks of his bloodstained apron—forced his way inside. The man's arm was wedged in the door, his black eyes gleaming with unnatural hunger as he snarled and clawed at Jackie.

"Lenz!" Jackie shouted, his voice cracking with relief

Lenz didn't hesitate. He grabbed a piece of broken wood from the floor, his grip tightening as he charged at the infected cook. With a cry, he swung the wood with all his might, the impact cracking against the man's skull. The cook staggered, his grip on the door loosening, but he didn't go down. He turned toward Lenz, his head lolling to one side, and let out a guttural growl.

"Get in!" Jackie shouted, yanking the door open just enough for Lenz to slip through. Lenz dove inside, and Jackie slammed the door shut, locking it just as the cook lunged again. The door shuddered under the impact, but it held.

Lenz collapsed against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Jackie stood beside him, his face pale and his hands trembling. "Those things… they don't die," Jackie said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I hit him with a chair, and he just kept coming."

Lenz got to his feet, his legs still shaky but steady enough to move. He glanced around the dining room, taking in the familiar sight of the long wooden table where the younger kids usually ate lunch. The room felt eerily quiet now, the only sound the faint creaking of the door as the infected cook continued to pound on it from the other side.

Jackie stood up and shouted, "Come out, Ted! It's just my friend!"

Lenz turned, startled, as a small figure emerged from under the table. It was Ted, one of the younger boys from the orphanage. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear, and his hands trembled as he clutched the edge of the table. "H-Hello…" Ted stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked like he'd been through hell, his clothes disheveled and his face streaked with dirt and tears.

Jackie stepped closer to Lenz, his voice low but urgent. "I found him here. He said they got the other kids on the first floor. He barely managed to make it up here."

Lenz's chest tightened at the thought of the other kids, but he forced himself to focus. "What about Mother Charmine?" he asked, his voice tense.

Jackie shook his head. "I don't know. I managed to get to the second floor with her, but then… things got crazy. I lost her in the chaos." He paused, then hurried to the other side of the room, crouching down to retrieve something from under a cabinet. When he stood up, he was holding Lenz's axe. The blade still looked sharp, barely used. "I made sure to grab this," Jackie said, handing it to Lenz. "Figured you'd need it."

Lenz took the axe, his fingers tightening around the handle. He felt a small surge of relief at having a weapon, but his mind was still racing. "Thanks," he said, his voice quiet. He glanced at Ted, then back at Jackie. "Jackie, what's going on out there? I mean, you said you managed to escape to the second floor with Mother Charmine, but… what happened? Start from the beginning."

Jackie nodded, his face pale but focused. "It all started with Father John," he began, his voice low and steady. "He came to the orphanage to give the sisters some flour. Everything seemed normal at first, but then… it happened. He suddenly coughed up blood and collapsed. Some of the sisters rushed to help him, but then he just… got back up. And he wasn't the same. He started attacking everyone. It was like nothing I've ever seen before. I mean, a normal virus would take days to spread, but this… this happened in less than three minutes."

Lenz listened intently, his grip tightening on the axe as Jackie continued. "Mother Charmine tried to gather as many kids as she could and get them upstairs. That's where we got separated. I managed to make it here with Ted, but… I don't know where she is now."

Lenz's brow furrowed as he processed Jackie's words. "Do you have any idea where she could be right now?" he asked, his voice tense but calm.

Jackie hesitated, then nodded. "She might be in the kitchen upstairs with the others. But with those things around…" He trailed off, his expression grim.

Lenz took a deep breath, his mind racing. "Look, I'm as confused as you guys are right now. But we can't just sit here. We need to get out and—"

Ted suddenly cut him off, his voice rising with panic and anger. "No! Do you even know what it's like out there? Did you see what those infected are capable of?" His voice cracked, and tears streamed down his face. He paused, his hands trembling as he struggled to speak. "I couldn't save my brother. He was only 15, just like me. We tried to run away together, but he tripped. And I… I couldn't stay to protect him. I just… I couldn't." His voice broke, and he looked down, his fists clenched. "I watched two of those things bite him and pierce his chest with their fingers. I couldn't do a damn thing."

Lenz's chest tightened at Ted's words, but before he could respond, Ted continued, his voice desperate and quick. "Father Enrick tried to fight them off. He stabbed one in the throat with a kitchen knife, but it didn't die. It just kept coming. Nothing stops them. Nothing."

The room fell silent, the weight of Ted's words hanging in the air. Lenz glanced at Jackie, who looked just as shaken, then back at Ted. The boy's face was streaked with tears, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair. Lenz knew they were all scared, but he also knew they couldn't stay here. Not if they wanted to survive.

"Ted," Lenz said softly, his voice firm but gentle. "I'm sorry about your brother. I really am. But we can't let what happened to him happen to us. We need to move. We need to find Mother Charmine and the others and get out of here. Staying here… it's not an option."

Ted sat heavily on one of the dining room chairs, his hands covering his face as he tried to steady his breathing. The room was silent except for the faint sound of his muffled sobs. After a moment, he lowered his hands, his face pale and tear-streaked, and spoke in a voice that was eerily calm, as if he were recounting a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

"The most terrifying part," Ted began, his voice trembling but steady, "was after. After I ran. After I left him. I met Jackie on the stairs, and I… I looked behind me. I saw my brother. His eyes… they were black. Like obsidian. His veins were all black, sticking out like they were about to burst. He was… he wasn't him anymore. He was one of *them*."

Ted's voice broke, and he looked down at his hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. "I keep thinking… what if I had stayed? What if I had tried to pull him up? Maybe I could've saved him. Maybe he'd still be here. But I didn't. I just… I ran. I left him there."

Lenz and Jackie exchanged a glance, both of them visibly shaken by Ted's words. Lenz stepped forward, his expression softening as he knelt in front of Ted. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. "Ted," he said, his voice steady, "your brother wanted you to survive. That's why he didn't call out for help when he was caught. He didn't want you to risk yourself for him. He wanted you to live."

Ted looked up at Lenz, his eyes red and swollen from crying. "But I… I just left him," he whispered, his voice filled with guilt and shame.

Lenz shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "You did what you had to do. And now, you need to honor him by surviving. You need to take all that guilt, all that pain, and turn it into anger. Use it to fight. Use it to make sure no one else has to go through what you did."

Ted stared at Lenz for a long moment, his chest rising and falling as he tried to process the words. Slowly, he wiped his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, his hands still trembling but his expression hardening. "Okay," he said, his voice low but firm. "Okay… I understand."

Jackie stepped forward, placing a hand on Ted's other shoulder. "We're in this together," he said, his voice steady. "We'll get through this. For your brother. For everyone."

Ted just nodded.

____

Lenz, Jackie, and Ted stood in the dimly lit dining room, the weight of their situation pressing down on them. The pounding on the door had stopped for now, but the silence was almost worse—it felt like the calm before a storm. Jackie broke the silence, his voice low but urgent.

"You heard Ted," Jackie said, his brow furrowed. "Father Enrick stabbed one of those things in the throat with a knife, and it just kept coming. How is that even possible?"

Lenz nodded, his grip tightening on the axe. "Yeah, when I hit the cook outside with the wood, it should've knocked him out cold. Even a soldier in a helmet would've been down for the count. But that thing… it just got back up."

The three of them exchanged uneasy glances, the reality of their situation sinking in. These weren't just ordinary people—they were something else. Something worse. Lenz's mind raced as he tried to think of a way out. "We need to get to the second floor," he said finally. "If Mother Charmine and the others are up there, we have to find them. But we'll need to defend ourselves on the way. Those things… they're fast, and they don't stop."

Jackie was quiet for a moment, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for something. Then, a slow smirk spread across his face. "I have a plan," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of confidence and uncertainty. "But it might sound a little bit dumb."