Chapter 15: The Line We Draw

The morning air was crisp, but there was no time to enjoy it. Everyone was on edge, moving with purpose as we worked to fortify the shelter. Wooden planks were nailed over weak points, barricades were reinforced, and escape routes were mapped out. The horde was coming—when, we didn't know, but the distant groans told us it wouldn't be long.

Lee stood at the center of the group, laying out our defense plan. "We can't fight them head-on. We don't have enough ammo for that. Our best bet is to funnel them, slow them down, and pick them off as they come."

Nora nodded. "We can set up makeshift barriers along the outer perimeter. If we force them into a narrow approach, we stand a better chance."

"We'll also need distractions," Mercer added. "Noise can pull some of them away, buy us time."

Kenny grumbled but didn't argue. "Fine. But if this goes sideways, we need a fallback plan."

I looked at the faces around me—tired, wary, but determined. We weren't just fighting for survival anymore. We were fighting for something more: the hope that we could outlast this nightmare.

By midday, the first barricades were in place. Old cars, wooden crates, anything we could find was repurposed into obstacles. We set up choke points, dug shallow trenches, and even rigged makeshift alarms with empty cans and rope.

As the sun dipped lower, Hershel emerged from the shelter, shotgun in hand. "It's too quiet," he muttered. "I don't like it."

Then, as if on cue, the first distant moans grew louder.

Shawn, standing near the barricade, turned pale. "They're coming."

A shadow moved at the tree line, then another. And another.

Then, all at once, the woods seemed to breathe as the first wave of the undead staggered into view.

This was it. The moment we had been waiting for.

Lee raised his voice, steady and clear. "Positions! We hold the line!"

The final battle for our survival had begun.