Sunday, November 22nd, noon.
The midday sun hung heavy over the city, its relentless light illuminating a landscape of desolation. The streets, splattered with dried blood, broken glass, and abandoned cars, looked like a still-life of abandonment frozen in time. The air smelled of decay and burnt gasoline, a constant reminder of the apocalypse that had devoured the world in a mere two days.
The meeting room of Fire Station District 2 was a makeshift command center in the middle of the chaos, a space that reeked of stale smoke, disinfectant, and the sour sweat of exhausted bodies.
The concrete walls, dotted with faded maps and forgotten duty rosters, absorbed the light from the emergency lamps that flickered as if they doubted their own usefulness. Outside, the sunlight filtered through the barred windows, staining the floor a warm gold.
Alex sat in a chair, his body still sore from the effort of guiding the horde, but his mind sharp, calculating every glance and every word. This wasn't his permanent group; the truth was, he didn't have one, not yet. He was just passing through, making sure they didn't fall apart before leaving with Emily.
Give them the basics, Alex. Enough so they can survive on their own, no more. Your promise to Ron is waiting.
Ten minutes after arriving, the room filled with a dozen people: Leo, in his frayed police uniform with eyes sunken from days of almost no sleep; Mike, surrounded by his fellow firefighters, men and women with weathered faces who seemed like echoes of a world where sirens still meant salvation; and a handful of civilians, including a young woman and her twelve-year-old sister who huddled against her side with a brave resolve.
All those capable of defending themselves were there; the children and the wounded had stayed in another room, under watch.
Alex looked around, feeling the weight of their expectations.
"Alright," Alex began, his voice low and measured, breaking the charged silence. "Before I tell you what I know, tell me what you've seen. What do you know about these... beings?"
He didn't use the word 'zombies' yet; he wanted them to speak freely, to process their own horror.
Leo leaned forward, rubbing the back of his neck with a calloused hand.
"The first afternoon, at the station, they told us it was a highly infectious disease. Something viral, contagious through bites or fluids. They sent us to contain outbreaks, but… with everything that's happened, I know it's not just a disease. They die and… they come back. Not like before."
Mike nodded, his expression grim, his eyes fixed on the floor as if reliving every scene.
"Same at our company. Before the chaos fully exploded, we answered calls for bites in accidents or street fights. We thought it was drug-induced hallucinations or rabies, but the military took over fast."
"They told us the same thing: infectious, quarantine," Mike continued. "But on Friday afternoon… I saw one of my men bite a civilian. The guy died in minutes, convulsing, and then he got up. He doesn't breathe, doesn't bleed like he should. As much as it pains me, Alex, those things… the bitten ones aren't biologically alive anymore. If they find a cure for the virus, they'll still be dead… like soulless walkers."
A burly firefighter, Ramirez, broke the following silence with a hoarse voice. "I saw the same thing at the checkpoint. A bitten buddy, we bandaged him, but he died in the truck. Minutes later, he attacked the driver. He died... and came back. Undead, that's what they are. They walk, but they're rotten inside."
The young girl suddenly interrupted, her high-pitched voice cutting through the tension like a knife. She straightened up, her big, frightened eyes fixed on Ramirez. "They aren't undead. They're zombies. Like in the movies. My sister used to put them on for me before bed. They bite, they get up, and you can only kill them in the head."
A murmur ran through the room. Everyone turned to her, surprised by the raw innocence of her words. Her sister wrapped a protective arm around her.
Alex felt a shiver; in the panic of the last few days, no one had connected the dots to fiction. But now, with the chaos settling into a routine of horror, the comparison was obvious.
Zombies… How appropriate. Slow, relentless, attracted by noise.
He didn't intervene; he let the moment settle, watching how the word both relieved and terrified in equal measure.
A skinny civilian with broken glasses and a stained shirt timidly raised his hand. "If they're zombies, is killing them like in the movies? Gunshots, machetes, whatever works?"
Leo, who had faced more hordes than anyone there besides Alex, replied with a sigh. "I've shot dozens. A shot to the head stops them instantly. Anything else—chest, arms—does nothing. It slows them a bit if it's a strong hit, but they come back. They're tough, as if the virus keeps them going without vital organs."
Alex nodded in silence, crossing his arms.
Correct.
He didn't add anything; this group would form without him in the long run. He just needed to guide them in the beginning.
The civilian with the glasses added, "I… on impulse, I hit one with a pipe in the head. It went down. Does that work?"
Mike intervened, his tone paternal but firm. "It was luck, buddy. A strong blow, in the exact spot, yeah. But I recommend shooting, deep stabbing, or crushing their skulls. A light blow only angers them, slows them for a second, and then you're dead. I've seen confident guys go down because of that."
Seeing that the conversation was flowing, Alex decided to step in, his voice calm but authoritative. "They're right about the basics… Brain damage stops them for good. But you don't always have to kill them. Save your bullets and energy."
He stood up, walking to a map on the wall, pointing at the surrounding streets.
"They're practically blind. Use that: move in silence, use shadows. They're slow, clumsy; run if you can, don't fight unnecessarily. And the main thing: they follow noise like dogs. Hit something far away, and you'll attract them like a magnet."
The room leaned toward him, eyes attentive. Alex continued, his mind replaying his visions.
This is what I saw: not just destruction, but control.
"To secure this building: barricade doors and windows with heavy furniture, but leave escape routes. Take turns on watch, use radios for alerts. As for the zombies, distract them. Place sirens or alarms in distant spots—old cars, generators—to clear streets. Or use vehicles: a truck with someone screaming inside, rolling slow, will lead them away without risk. I've seen… I've tried something similar. It works, but it's dangerous. The person doing it has to be fast."
Mike whistled low, impressed. "That explains today. You guided hundreds like it was nothing. It's viable, Alex, but very risky."
Someone asked what Mike was referring to, and he told them about the earlier action that had managed to get them out of that zombie-surrounded building. Some assumed it was a joke or an exaggeration, but one of Mike's companions who saw everything from that building corroborated the story.
The little girl looked at Alex with shining eyes. "Like in the movies, but better."
Meanwhile, her sister next to her looked at Alex with a different kind of attention than the rest. Something Alex noticed, but ignored. However, the ones who didn't ignore this were Emily and Yuki at his side. They looked at the young woman, a little older than them, with suspicion.
"Should I have gotten involved?" Alex suddenly thought, noticing the discussions continuing without his intervention.
The guilt of getting involved again gnawed at him—Emily was waiting, Ron trusted him—but seeing the spark of hope in their faces held him for a little longer.
Just the beginning. Then, I'm gone.
As the discussion continued, with firefighters proposing shifts and civilians jotting down ideas on scraps of paper, Alex leaned back in his chair, the weight of the apocalypse pressing on his shoulders. In this world without rules, teaching was an act of mercy, but also a chain. And he, pragmatic to his core, knew that breaking it would be inevitable.
The meeting stretched on, voices overlapping in a tapestry of plans and fears.
Ramirez described an encounter where they used fire to distract a horde, but Mike corrected him: "Fire attracts more than it distracts; burn only if there's no other option."
The young woman from before added, her voice firm: "In my building, we hid and moved in silence. It worked until one person screamed." Her little sister, still huddled close, murmured: "Zombies hate silence, right?"
Alex watched, intervening only to refine: "Yes, but use it against them. Controlled noise is their weakness."
The discussions continued, and to Alex's luck, and the group's own, they reached a key understanding among themselves. Everyone would contribute to the functioning of the shelter until help arrived or this was all over. Alex didn't want to ruin their expectations, so his comments regarding this were evasive.
A little more than half an hour had passed, and the group's operation was established. Stomach growls graced the atmosphere, showing that everyone was hungry. And to this group's luck, the fire station had its own canteen, which could supply this group of people for a few weeks before they needed to scavenge for supplies.
Alex was guided by Mike, with Tim, Emily, and the rest of his high school group to the canteen. On the way, the conversations were casual, and there were also some thanks to Alex for his contribution and ideas.
Mike suddenly stopped and said to him: "Alex, I know you said you'd leave after helping us, which I appreciate a lot… But it's dangerous outside. Why don't you guys stay here?"
Alex shook his head, and said: "Leo also asked me, and I'll give you the same answer. I can't… I have to get Emily to her father."
Mike just nodded in silence, understanding Alex.
Alex was now convinced that his help was enough. The building was safer, and the people who made up this refuge were aware of the dangers and how to face them.
1 hour later.
Alex adjusted his backpack, heavy with the water bottles and medical supplies that the District 2 firefighters had given them. Tim, Emily, Amy, Yuki, and George checked their belongings, their movements quick but precise, aware that every second in the building was a risk.
Alex, with a new machete secured to his belt, scanned the group, his mind divided between the urgency of fulfilling his promise to Ron and the persistent guilt over the horde he had diverted, possibly condemning others.
As they organized the final details, Alex noticed the young woman from before, around twenty, waving him over from a nearby hallway. Her expression was determined, but not threatening.
"Alex, come here a moment," she said, her voice low but firm.
Intrigued, and sensing no malice, he followed her into a small room where her younger sister was organizing a backpack on a makeshift bed. The room was full of overturned furniture and a covered window that let in only a sliver of light. Kris closed the door behind them.
"I'm Kris, and this is Abi," she said, gesturing to the girl, who looked up with a mix of shyness and curiosity.
"I'm Alex," he replied, his tone neutral, waiting.
Kris took a deep breath; her eyes fixed on Alex's.
"We're not from here," Kris began to explain. "We were on a trip on Friday, right when everything started. We were going to get our car to leave downtown, but the chaos trapped us. We managed to contact our family by phone yesterday; they're outside the city, waiting for us. But the zombie perimeter… we can't get out alone. We don't have the skills for that."
Alex nodded in silence, processing.
The story sounded plausible, but something about the way Abi frowned when she heard her sister mention 'family' put him on alert.
They're lying, or at least not telling the whole truth.
He remembered Kris's enigmatic smile before, her intervention in the meeting, the way she seemed to win the favor of others.
They're cunning. They want a ticket out, and I'm their best option.
But he didn't feel hostility, just a sharp instinct for survival.
Kris, noticing his silence, was direct, and said: "We want to go with you. We'll follow your orders, Alex. We're brave, not a burden. I know how to handle a knife, and Abi is fast. You won't regret it."
Alex thought it over; his mind caught between caution and empathy.
I might be overthinking it. But if they're lying, it's not out of malice, but out of necessity.
Finally, he sighed.
"Alright. Get your things ready and come with me."
Kris and Abi pointed to their backpacks, already ready at the foot of the beds. Alex shook his head, resigned.
I always end up with more weight than I planned.
At the secondary entrance of the building, now the only viable exit, Mike and Leo were waiting to say goodbye. Mike handed Alex a portable radio, tuned to their frequency.
"For emergencies," he said, his voice heavy with gratitude and some guilt. Leo, his face hardened by fatigue, added: "Thanks, Alex. For everything. We won't forget it."
The farewell was brief, tinged with a bittersweet flavor. Emily, from behind, waved to the children who peered out from a nearby room, their little hands waving shyly. Alex wished them luck, his voice firm but gentle, and led the group toward the street.
The southwest awaited them, and the group moved at a steady pace, their steps muffled so as not to attract attention. The streets were clearer, the zombies scattered, but every corner was a threat.
Kris proved her worth by stabbing a solitary zombie in the eye, winking at Alex with a confidence that unnerved him.
Too sure for someone who says they have no experience.
But there was no time to question it. The zombie perimeter they had seen before was emptier, and Alex noticed that the dead were moving in the direction where he had guided the horde before, attracted by the car alarms.
It worked here too, but not for long.
Tim, always observant, pointed to a narrow alley between two buildings.
"We could use that," he said, his calm contrasting with the group's tension. Alex assessed the path: it wasn't clear, but it was better than the main streets.
"Let's go," he ordered, and they moved, crouched between abandoned cars, their steps silent as shadows.
Alex's heart pounded, sweat soaking his forehead. Every creak, every distant moan, put his nerves on edge. The group advanced in a coordinated way: Alex in front, machete in hand, eliminating zombies with precise blows; Emily and George flanking Yuki and Amy; Kris protecting Abi with a knife in hand; Tim securing the rear.
The alley was a tunnel of tension.
Shadows danced on the walls, and the moans of the zombies echoed like a funeral chorus. Minutes that felt like hours passed, each step an act of faith. But just as they were nearing the end, Yuki tripped, her leg caught between two overturned cars. Emily stopped, trying to free her, her face pale with panic. Alex spun around, his instincts on high alert. The moans were getting closer; they didn't have time.
"Tim, get the others to that building," he pointed to a warehouse on the other side of the alley. "Secure it. Now!"
Before Tim could respond, Emily, in her desperation, hit a car with her improvised spear.
The alarm blared, an electronic wail that sliced through the silence like a knife.
Time froze.
Emily stood motionless, horrified, her eyes full of guilt. Yuki struggled, her leg still trapped. Tim, several meters away, turned around, his calm shattered by the alarm. The moans grew louder, more zombies approaching from the adjacent streets.
Shit.
Alex felt the panic rise in his throat, but he crushed it with brute force. He ran towards Emily and Yuki, his voice a growl.
"Emily, run with Tim! Now!"
"No, I can help!" she protested, her voice shaky but defiant.
Alex, with no time for niceties, slapped her with controlled force. The sound echoed, and Emily staggered, her eyes wide with shock. Even Yuki, trapped, stopped struggling for a moment.
"Get out!" Alex roared, his gaze fierce but filled with urgency. "It's not your fault, but if you stay, you'll be a hindrance. Run!"
Emily, tears welling up, nodded and ran toward Tim, who met her with a hand on his shoulder. Alex knelt beside Yuki, assessing the tangled metal trapping her leg.
The moans were getting closer, the echo of the alarm attracting death.
With a titanic effort, he lifted the edge of the car, freeing Yuki. He helped her to her feet, and together they ran toward the building, Alex's heart pounding with the certainty that the apocalypse did not forgive mistakes.
But as they ran, Alex noticed that zombies were starting to accumulate at the alley exit they were heading for.
Exit blocked. We can only hide in one of the alley buildings, Alex thought, looking for an open door to enter and take refuge. At least they made it out.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
Alex helps form a new group, but this time he only has a guiding role, so to speak. However, I want to say that this group was mentioned in the dreams.
Will it still exist in the future?
On the other hand, the sisters also appear and we notice much more of their personalities, who are brought from a different fiction than TWD.
By the way, I tried to speed up the story's pace, but I can't leave out details, so it ends up being a somewhat strange mix of narratives, but one that doesn't lose key information.
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Read my other novels
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time. (Chapter 93)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis. (Chapter 29)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File. (Chapter 9) (PAUSED)
You can find them on my profile.]