Chapter 5: Home, Not Alone

The heavy wooden gate clanged shut behind them, a sound that, for a brief moment, felt like a seal against the chaos outside. Ethan, Marcus, Mr. Henderson, Chloe, Lily, Sam, and Jasmine stood in the small front yard of Marcus's house, a modern two-story with a neatly trimmed lawn and a basketball hoop by the driveway. The setting sun cast long, unsettling shadows, making every bush seem like a lurking threat.

"My parents… they should be here," Marcus mumbled, his bravado from earlier fading, replaced by a deep worry. He led them to the front door, fumbling with his keys. The silence from within the house was profound, more unsettling than any distant scream.

[New objective: Secure Marcus's residence. Sub-objective: Confirm safety of inhabitants. Reward: 75 Experience Points upon completion.]

Ethan raised his crowbar, scanning the windows, then the dark garage door. "Stay alert," he whispered, his voice low. "Don't assume anything is safe."

Marcus finally got the key in, the click of the lock unnaturally loud in the quiet neighborhood. He pushed the door open slowly, revealing a dimly lit foyer. Dust motes danced in the last rays of sunlight filtering through the side windows. The air inside was still, heavy, and carried the faint scent of old cooking oil and something else… something faintly metallic, like blood.

"Mom? Dad?" Marcus called out, his voice cracking. No answer.

Ethan stepped in first, crowbar held ready, his enhanced senses (or perhaps just heightened adrenaline) on high alert. He noticed a spilled coffee mug on the polished hardwood floor, near a discarded newspaper. It looked like someone had left in a hurry. Or been interrupted.

[Threat detected: Multiple low-level zombies (2) on the second floor. Threat level: Moderate.]

A chill ran down Ethan's spine. "Upstairs," he murmured to Marcus, pointing the crowbar towards the staircase. "Stay low. Be ready."

Mr. Henderson, his face pale, gestured for the younger students to remain by the front door. "We'll secure this floor," he whispered, picking up a heavy decorative vase, a pitiful excuse for a weapon.

Ethan and Marcus crept up the carpeted stairs, each step a tense moment of anticipation. The metallic scent grew stronger. At the top of the stairs, a hallway stretched out, leading to several bedrooms. A door was ajar at the far end, and a faint, gurgling moan drifted from within.

"My parents' room," Marcus breathed, his eyes wide with horror and dread.

Ethan nodded grimly. This was the moment of truth. He gestured for Marcus to stay behind him, then pushed the door open fully with his foot.

The sight that greeted them was a fresh wave of nausea. Two figures, unmistakably Marcus's parents, lay on the floor amidst overturned furniture and a splatter of dark, dried blood. But they weren't still. Their bodies twitched and convulsed, their faces grotesque caricatures of their former selves, eyes milky and unfocused. They snarled, their mouths open, revealing teeth stained dark.

Marcus gasped, a strangled sob escaping his throat. "Mom! Dad!" He took a step forward, his hand reaching out instinctively.

"Don't!" Ethan yelled, grabbing Marcus by the arm and pulling him back. "They're gone, Marcus! They're not them anymore!"

The two figures on the floor, hearing their son's voice, slowly began to stir, their heads swiveling with unnatural jerks. They pushed themselves up, their limbs moving awkwardly, and began to shamble towards the doorway.

[Threat: Two low-level zombies confirmed (Marcus's Parents). Recommendation: Eliminate quickly. Reward: 10 EXP per zombie.]

Ethan's heart sank for Marcus, but there was no time for emotion. He had to act. He pushed Marcus back further, creating a small buffer. "Marcus, I need you to stay back. I'll handle this."

Marcus, tears streaming down his face, could only nod, leaning against the wall, utterly broken by the sight.

Ethan raised the crowbar. The first zombie, Marcus's father, lurched forward. Ethan met it with a powerful, horizontal swing, aiming for the temple. The crowbar connected with a sickening *thwack*, sending the zombie reeling into the wall, a deep indentation forming in its skull. It crumpled, but still twitched.

The second, Marcus's mother, was faster, her gaunt fingers clawing at the air. Ethan dodged, the smell of decay overwhelming. He spun, bringing the crowbar down in a vertical chop, splitting her skull with a brutal force. She dropped instantly, twitching briefly before falling still.

[Zombie eliminated! Experience Gained: 10 EXP.]

He turned back to Marcus's father, who was now struggling to rise again. Ethan moved quickly, bringing the crowbar down one last, decisive time. The twitching stopped.

[Zombie eliminated! Experience Gained: 10 EXP.]

[Current Experience: 65/200.]

[Sub-objective: Confirm safety of inhabitants. Status: Failed. Inhabitants neutralized.]

[Objective: Secure Marcus's residence. Status: Partially complete. Remaining Threats: None detected inside residence.]

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by Marcus's choked sobs. Ethan stood over the bodies, the crowbar still in his hand, a heavy weight in his heart. This wasn't just about survival anymore. It was about losing everything.

He turned to Marcus, who had slid to the floor, head in his hands. Ethan felt a surge of empathy, but also the grim reality of their situation. There was no time for grieving, not yet.

"Marcus," Ethan said, his voice softer now, "I am so sorry. We have to keep moving, keep going."

Marcus slowly looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with a raw, desperate pain. But in their depths, Ethan saw a flicker of understanding, a dawning acceptance of the horrific truth.

"The… the tools," Marcus rasped, pushing himself up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "My dad had a… a reinforced shed out back. Tools, maybe some supplies."

Ethan nodded, a grim determination setting in. "Good. We need to check every room, secure all entry points. This house might be our temporary safe zone, but only if we make it one."

The screams from outside the school, though now distant, served as a constant reminder. They had found shelter, but the world was still out there, hungry. Their immediate task: turn this house into a fortress, and then, gather supplies. The fight for survival, for something resembling a future, was far from over.