Echoes in the Dirt

The outskirts of Casablanca.

The land here is rural — endless green fields, soaked with wet dirt and the smell of rain and rot.

In the midst of it all, thirteen bodies lay lined up shoulder to shoulder, each wrapped in a rough, white mortuary sheet.

Some bodies are whole.

Some are torn — severed at the waist.

Some are missing limbs entirely.

Beside them, three figures stand.

Two upright. One slumped on a rock, face buried between his knees.

Valker speaks first, voice low and rough:

Valker (softly):

"Someone was kidnapped while scouting for food. We sent twelve to find him.

We don't know how they ended up here.

Last contact, they were leaving the small city of Settat, east from here.

They were ordered — strictly — to avoid this area.

And judging by that wrecked vehicle back there... they listened.

They were dragged here."

Ash lifts his head slightly, but says nothing.

Valker steps closer, kneeling beside him.

Valker (quieter, sadder):

"They've all been identified.

You don't have to wonder who they are."

Ash rises.

He picks up a crude shovel — a twisted scrap of metal bound to a stick with old, worn leather.

The shape of the hands that once gripped it are still visible in the dried mold.

Without a word, he drives it into the earth.

The ground, despite looking rocky, parts like butter.

In less than half a minute, a grave is dug.

And then another.

And another.

After what felt like less than ten minutes, thirteen graves stood open before them, gaping like wounds carved into the earth.

Valker moved slowly between them, placing each body into its final resting place, one after the other.

He buried them carefully, covering them with dirt as if trying to preserve what little dignity they had left.

Ash joined him in silence, the air heavy, every movement weighed down by the crushing stillness that surrounded them.

No words.

No prayers.

Only the wet, heavy sound of earth falling over the dead.

When it's done, they turn away from the field.

Heads low.

Shoulders heavier.

Faces hollow.

Even Zayna — usually so cold — looks haunted.

They leave the graves behind them, swallowed by the mist.

_______

Ash's POV :

As they walked, Ash trailed a few steps behind.

The others moved on — but he lingered, his boots dragging through the mud, his mind somewhere else entirely.

Ash (thinking):

"Another field of graves. Another batch of names I'll force myself to forget."

"That's what survival is now. Forget fast enough to keep walking. I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

He looked up at the gray sky, breathing in the cold, rotting air.

It reeked of wet earth, blood, and something worse — something old and festering beneath the surface of this world.

Ash (thinking):

"Seven years ago, this land was different. Loud. Alive."

"Now, it's nothing but graves and ghosts."

He tightened his grip on the makeshift shovel, the weight of it anchoring him to the present.

If he let his mind drift too far, he'd start remembering things best left buried.

Ash (thinking):

"The fall started slow. Whispers of missing people. Strange sightings. Parasites, they called them — creatures that wore human faces like masks."

"At first, they hunted like animals. Instinct. Hunger. Then... they got smarter. They learned."

Ash's gaze swept across the endless fields, ruins barely visible in the fog.

No cities left.

No armies.

Just scraps of humanity, scattered and clinging.

Ash (thinking):

"We tried fighting back. And for a moment, we were close to ending it."

"But it wasn't enough."

"They started with the big places — Asia, the Americas. Most of it was gone before anyone could even react."

"The last to fall were the giants: China, the United States, Russia. They thought about using atomic bombs to save themselves — wipe out entire countries and cities just to root the parasites out."

"But they couldn't. They couldn't even tell who was still human anymore."

"And that hesitation... that's what killed them."

Ash closed his eyes briefly, feeling the weight of it.

Ash (thinking):

"Maybe if they'd acted... if they'd sacrificed a few to save the many..."

"But then again — what would that have made them?"

"No better than the monsters they were trying to destroy."

He shook his head, clearing the thought.

Ash (thinking):

"Some of us tried something else. We changed ourselves — twisted our bodies, our minds. Forced evolution, born of desperation."

"It bought us time."

"But the parasites are evolving too. Faster than we ever could."

"At least we learned to identify them better. Small victories."

He looked up at the gray sky again — not with hope.

Just a cold, grim calculation.

Ash (thinking):

"The end isn't coming. It's already here."

"We're just too stubborn to lie down and die."