QAITBAY CITADEL

The dim light flickered, while the faint call to the dawn prayer echoed from one of the survivors. Despite the overwhelming fear and the biting cold, the hundreds of refugees remained steadfast in their desire to perform ablution, even though the time for tahajjud had already passed. Without any coordination, each person instinctively conserved water as much as possible, leaving dry ablution (tayammum) as the only viable option at that moment.

The large number of people did not create any noise, as even the slightest commotion might provoke the wild creatures outside to attack. Moving cautiously, the worshippers performed their sunnah prayers individually, scattered throughout the space, yet still maintaining the boundary between the men's and women's sections.

The last of the worshippers were finishing their sunnah prayers when a middle-aged man with a thin beard stepped forward, preparing to recite the iqamah. His voice was soft, yet it carried a melodic resonance that, though faint, was still pleasing to the ears of the congregation.

As the prayer began, each worshipper straightened their rows in silence. Those standing at the front hesitated, politely gesturing for one another to lead. Finally, an elderly yet remarkably fit man stepped forward. His thick white beard framed his calm face, and he appeared to be around 65 years old.

"Uqimu sufufa, khadhu baynal mana kibi wasuddul kholala, wa laa tadharu furujatis syayatin wamau wa shola shoffa wa shollahullah wamang qoto'a shoffa qoto'ahullah." The man looked at the congregation and calmly said, preparing himself to lead the prayer.

Rak'ah after rak'ah was performed with calm and measured recitation until the final salam marked the end of the prayer. For a moment, soft dhikr accompanied the rising sun, filling the air with a serene atmosphere that deeply moved every worshipper. It united them in their shared fate, even with some among them who were non-Muslims and had not joined the congregational prayer.

Arya, Fadli, and Amar hastened their prayers. That morning, before the sun fully rose, they had a mission to accomplish—leaving as soon as possible while it was still dark to head toward the Qaitbay Citadel.

The mall quickly fell into chaos. Arya and his friends' departure had stirred concern among the other refugees. Their worry was driven by a deep sense of solidarity and care for one another.

"Kalentou rayhin fein? El barra khatir giddan!" said an elderly Egyptian man with a white beard. His face was lined with wrinkles, yet he still looked younger than the man who had led the prayer earlier.

"Asif, lazim nerga' le Indonesia halan. El wasilah hateegi delwa'ti." Arya said in the distinct Egyptian dialect.

"Tab leh keda, leh ma wadaytoush el baayeen ma'akoum?" asked a young Egyptian man.

"Ihna kaman nefsna naakhodkoum ma'ana, bas mish aayzeen nahottkoum fi khatar ashan ahdafna. Wihna arfeen in elli hayakhodna mish haywafi yeddi makaan le ay had ghayrna ella law fi mogabal howa yshofuh yestahal. Wana shakk en el wasila di hatkoon kafiyeh lena kollena." Fadli answered convincingly.

"Tab leh entou muta'akkideen innuhom hayenqazoukoum?" asked a woman carrying her three-year-old son in her arms.

"Ashan andena haga homa aayzeenha." Amar replied.

"Di ikhtiar koum, eamelou elli entou aizeen tol ma howa mish haydorr hadd. Insha' Allah, ihna hena amman aktar, bas ka ikhwa fi el iman, maaya ghayr inni aftakirkoum. El barra khatir giddan, we ehttimal el negaa daeef giddan. Ahssan likoum tergaou an el fekra di. Andena mawaared keteer hena, kefaya le shohour gaya. We law ehna shatarna fi taqteer, we zoudna el syam—siyam Dawood, ayyam el bayd, aw el etnain wel khamis—momken el mawaared tekfi akthar beketir. Momken tekfi sanawat. We ghoudourkoum hena, ihna hanestaabelkoum be sadr raheb. Maho min ay makan gitou, ihna ikhwa. Ikhwa fi el aqida. Ihna aela." Said the elderly man who had previously led them in prayer.

"Bas law entou lessa mesmemeen, khodou elli mehtagouh bes kedar el hage. Khodou selah w akl elli tehtagouh, bas matzawdoosh." Said the elderly man, continuing his words.

Amar fell silent for a moment, but Arya quickly stepped in to reassure them.

"Ihna hanimshi bardu ya beih, shokran ala nasehetak. We kaman ihna gahazna kol haga embareh, termasuk elsilah." Arya's words instantly reignited Amar and Fadli's determination to return to Indonesia.

Arya continued "Ihna hanigazef bi ay haga. Da mish mawdou'na bas, da mawdou'na kolena. El khabar elli shayleenoh momken yesaed el hokouma fi baladi fi hagat tanyah fel mustaqbal. Ay haga. Hatta momken bel tasgil da, homa yel2ou tareeq lel hal." 

"Khodou ay haga elli tehtagouha, bas tani mara, min fadlakoum matzawdoosh. Ghair enno da haybattelkoum, ihna kaman hena mehtaginha giddan." The imam firmly placed both hands on Arya's shoulders and said with conviction.

Arya nodded and replied, "Aywa, khalas ya beih. Abl el Tahajud, ihna kammalna taghyiiz kol haga." 

"Eh khettetkoum ashan te'derou tekhrogou men hena besalama men ghir ma tkhattarouna?" the imam asked.

The imam's question made Arya, Fadli, and Amar fall silent for a moment. With a small smile, the three Indonesian companions exchanged glances, as if silently confirming their resolve, "Itman ya beih, kol haga gahaznaha." Amar replied confidently.

***

The clock showed five in the early morning, yet the sun had yet to reveal its light. Each of them wore a jacket to shield themselves from the bone-chilling cold. Arya and his two companions made their way to the top floor, carrying medium-sized backpacks on their shoulders. Inside, they had packed water, food, flares, ropes, and other essential supplies.

Arya carried a samurai sword, tucked behind his backpack, while Fadli had a scimitar strapped to his belt. Unlike his two friends, Amar only carried a small SWESS-brand dagger he had found inside the mall. Additionally, each of them concealed a firearm beneath their jackets, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Amar climbed the stairs, leaving the main floor behind, venturing into the unknown, powerless against fate yet filled with determination. He ascended to the second floor and continued toward the very top, followed closely by Arya and Fadli. Meanwhile, the other refugees could do nothing but offer their prayers, watching anxiously—knowing this might be the last time they would see them alive.

It wasn't long before their footsteps carried them away from the safety of the shelter, toward a hope that everyone knew was uncertain. Finally, they arrived at the exit door on the mall's rooftop. The door was made of thin metal, with a small square glass window reinforced with wire at the top center, allowing them to glimpse the outside world.

Amar took the lead, peering outside through the glass. His eyes darted left and right, carefully scanning every detail. Once he was certain the coast was clear, he slowly turned the door handle and began to open it inch by inch.

Step by step, they moved forward, piercing through the fading darkness. Fadli quietly shut the door behind them. Unbeknownst to them, one of the refugees had followed and locked the door Amar had just passed through. 

Creeping cautiously, they peered down below. Fear overshadowed any appreciation for the cool morning breeze that gently whispered through the air, accompanying the cloudless sky. With the city's power completely out, the stars shone brilliantly, adorning the heavens with breathtaking beauty. 

But the beauty of the sky did not extend to the earth below. Blood was splattered everywhere. Severed body parts lay scattered, complete with human organs, flooding the city in a grotesque display of horror.

"Amar, check your phone. Do you have any signal?" Fadli whispered.

"You have a phone too, don't you?" Amar replied.

"My phone is dead," Fadli replied. 

Amar quickly reached into his right pocket, pulling out his phone while keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.

"No signal, Fad," Amar said as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

"It'll be daylight soon, we need to hurry," Arya said anxiously.

Amar pulled a flare from his backpack, while Fadli took a lighter from his shirt pocket and ignited it. Carefully, he aimed the flare toward a nearby building—not too far from the mall, but far enough to serve as a distraction.

The flare was ignited, and the gunpowder inside triggered a powerful thrust, launching it like a rocket. It soared through the air before exploding beside the ten-story building just as planned.

The explosion and bright flash instantly captured the attention of the creatures known as zombies, causing them to sprint rapidly toward the source of the blast. This was the golden opportunity Amar and his friends had been waiting for. 

Arya pulled a special rope from his bag and secured it tightly to a metal pole. Once he was sure it would hold, he tossed the rope down.

Once everything seemed safe, they began descending one by one. Arya went first, using the climbing gear they had found inside the mall, which made his descent easier. 

Upon reaching the ground, Fadli followed. The rope felt slightly slippery, making it difficult for him to maneuver down the three floors. Without the climbing equipment, he might have fallen. But with determination, he managed to make it down, where Arya was already waiting.

Such a task wasn't too difficult for them, as back in Indonesia, they were accustomed to climbing and even rappelling down cliffs using just a rope. It was a routine exercise organized by an Indonesian TV company to strengthen teamwork and serve as a training medium. This preparation was meant to ease their work in covering news in unpredictable regions and could even be a lifesaving skill in the face of danger.

Lastly, Amar watched as Fadli had safely reached the ground. Though mist covered his vision, blurring the scene, he could still make out Fadli's figure. Taking a deep breath, Amar secured his harness and began his descent. However, due to the limited visibility, he miscalculated his landing spot.

Arya and Fadli struggled to warn him, as even the slightest sound could attract the zombies toward them. Until finally "THUD!" Amar crashed to the ground.

"Ahh!" Amar groaned softly, trying to endure the pain.

Without saying much, Fadli quickly helped Amar up, unhooked his gear, and ran through the darkness toward Qaitbay Citadel.

***

Jakarta, far from the bloody chaos where Arya, Fadli, and Amar were struggling for survival amidst the horde of cannibalistic zombies. A few hours earlier, in a dimly lit room behind a cluttered desk filled with scattered papers, a stout figure sat comfortably in a black chair, a cigar resting between his dark lips. He appeared to be in his fifties, intently focused on the news playing before him.

"Riiiiiiing...! Riiiiiiing...! Riiiiiiing...!" The ringing phone suddenly disrupted the silence he was enjoying. Without pausing his activity, he reached for the receiver on his left and answered the call.

"Hello? Who is this?" he asked, only to be met with a faint, unclear voice from the other end of the line.

"Oh, yes, sir? I am indeed Bramantio, the chief editor of TV 8," Bramantio continued, responding to the question from the mysterious caller.

"Yes, I'm watching the news. But it's unclear, not a single video has been shown," Bram commented, responding to the mysterious caller.

"Yes, I have three reporters covering the situation there."

"Then after they…" Before Bram could finish his sentence, he was startled by the voice on the other end of the phone.

"WHAT!?" Bram exclaimed, startled.

"Okay, fine. I don't care about them, I only care about the news they bring. I agree to cooperate with you. I need the money, and you need samples from their bodies."

"Oh no, no sir, I'm not worried about their lives, I don't even care about them. Once they arrive in Indonesia, you can do whatever you want with them. The problem is, I've tried contacting them, but it seems there's no signal over there." Bram continued.

"Well then, if you can help contact them, once there's signal as you promised, I'll get in touch with them immediately." Bram paused for a moment, listening carefully to each sentence from the person on the other end of the phone.

"Understood, General." Bramantio concluded the conversation with an agreeing tone. []