CHAPTER TWELVE: THE TRACKS TO SALVATION

On The Move Again

The night had been brutal.

By dawn, they were still on the road, their truck rattling along the cracked highway. The farm was gone. The LIFESEEKER was still out there. And now, they had nowhere to go.

Jace drove in silence, his hands gripping the wheels tighter than necessary. Mosun sat beside him, holding Ayanfe close, while Miss Okafor and her daughters huddled in the back with Bayo. Kunle, shotgun in hand, kept watch through the windshield.

The road stretched endlessly ahead, a wasteland of rusted cars and broken lives.

Then the engine coughed.

Jace frowned. "That doesn't sound good."

The truck shuddered, wheezed, then died.

Silence.

"Omoh," Kunle muttered. "That sounded permanent."

Jace tried the ignition. Nothing.

He slammed his palm against the wheel. "Damn it."

They had no time to waste.

They grabbed only the essentials-food, water, weapons-and moved on foot.

The sun beat down as they trudged down the ruined highway. The air smelled of decay, and the distant groans of walkers were always present, always near.

Hours passed.

Then Kunle stopped, crouching near the ground.

Jace wiped the sweat from his brow. "What is it?"

Kunle ran his fingers over a pair of rusted metal tracks, half-buried under dirt and vines.

'A rail line." His eyes followed it into the distance. "This leads somewhere."

Jace studied the tracks. "Where?"

Kunle took a slow breath. "A train terminal." He looked up, face serious. "I heard something about it before. Right when the world started burning. A radio broadcast saying survivors should converge there."

Jace hesitated. "You think it's still standing?"

Kunle exhaled sharply. "I don't know. But it's a lead."

Jace turned to the group. "We follow the tracks."

No one argued.

Because they had nothing left.

The rhythmic crunch of their boots against gravel pulled Kunle into his mind.

Back before the fall, his life had been a cycle of sweat, blood, and glory.

Kunle Afolabi was a UFC fighter.

He had trained in Thailand, Brazil, and the U.S. - chasing titles, chasing something more. And after years of battles in foreign rings, he had finally returned home.

Not as a champion.

But as a man searching for peace.

That night, he had taken his younger brother, Tunde, out for dinner in Lagos. It was supposed to be simple. Just the two of them, good food, some drinks, and plans for the future.

But then - the first scream rang out.

The restaurant erupted into chaos as a man collapsed, convulsing, his veins turning black.

Then he rose again.

Faster than anyone could react, he lunged, biting into a woman's throat.

And that was when the world ended.

Kunle had grabbed Tunde, forcing their way through the panicked crowd.

He shoved people aside, dodged falling bodies, and punched a man who tried to drag him back. Survival instincts took over.

By the time they hit the streets, Lagos was already a war zone.

Kunle's exotic car sat right outside. He tossed Tunde inside and floored the gas pedal, speeding through streets that were already filling with flesh-hungry horrors.

They were almost free.

Then - the tanker appeared.

A massive oil truck jackknifed across the road flipping over.

Kunle had no time to stop.

The car slammed into the tanker, the impact launching them over the bridge's railing.

They plummeted.

Kunle blacked out.

He woke up to pain and fire.

Smoke billowed from the wreck. His arm was broken, blood dripped into his eye. He turned - Tunde was still in the car.

Crushed.

Dead.

Kunle had screamed his brother's name.

But there was no answer.

Only the sound of the undead, crawling toward the wreckage.

He had been forced to run.

Leaving his brother behind.

For months, he carried the guilt.

For months, he blamed himself.

Until one day, something inside him hardened.

God's presence was gone from this world.

The only rule left was survival.

Kunle shook off the memories as they followed the rail line deeper into the woods.

Bayo walked beside him. "You okay"

Kunle gave a short nod. "Yeah. Just thinking."

Jace fell in step with them. "How much farther do you think this terminal is?"

Kunle studied the tracks. "Not sure. It could be another day's walk. Could be longer."

Jace sighed. "Let's just hope we find something before nightfall."

Ahead, the trees thinned.

And beyond them - something loomed in the distance.

A station.

Or what was left of it?

But as they stepped closer, the wind carried a sound.

A distant scream.

And suddenly, the station didn't seem so safe after all.