The hideout was quiet except for the muffled groans of zombies in the distance. Ayham paced the small storage room they'd locked him in, his boots scuffing against the concrete floor. He kicked at an empty water bottle in frustration.
"This is bullshit." He exclaimed.
Through the small barred window, he could see the faint glow of fires burning across the city. Somewhere out there, his brother was playing the hero again while he rotted in this cell.
A sharp pain shot through his ribs where Shihab had punched him earlier. He winced, touching the tender spot. Yeah, real brotherly love.
The walkie-talkie hidden in his boot suddenly crackled to life.
"Ayham, you there?" It was Jabir, one of his old crew.
Ayham snatched it up, keeping his voice low. "About damn time. Where are you guys?"
"Old textile factory by the docks. Qasim's pissed you got caught. Says if you don't get back soon, he'll—"
"I don't give a shit what Qasim says," Ayham hissed. "I'm getting out. Be ready."
He pocketed the walkie and examined the door's lock. Simple deadbolt. He'd picked worse.
The hallway was empty when he slipped out. Most of the Peace Seekers were either on watch or asleep. Ayham moved silently toward the back exit, his heart pounding.
"You're not very good at being a prisoner."
Ayham spun around. Rima leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her dark eyes unimpressed.
"Go back to bed, Rima," he muttered, turning to leave.
She moved faster than he expected, grabbing his arm. "Not happening."
Ayham yanked free. "I don't want to hurt you."
Rima smirked. "Funny. I don't have that problem."
Her fist connected with his jaw before he could react. Pain exploded across his face, and he staggered back, stunned. What is wrong with you?"
Rima cracked her knuckles. "Your brother is not the only one who can fight in this group."
Ayham wiped blood from his lip. Fine. If she wanted to play rough...
They traded blows in the dim hallway. Rima was quick, but Ayham had street brawling down to an art. He feinted left, then grabbed her in a headlock.
"Sorry about this," he grunted as she elbowed him in the ribs.
___
A roll of duct tape later, and Rima was tied to a support beam, glaring daggers at him.
"Shihab's gonna kill you," she spat.
Ayham pocketed her pistol. "He'll have to catch me first."
Shihab returned at dawn, covered in zombie sticky liquid and he was exhausted. The school mission had been a bloodbath, but they'd saved many civilians who were taking shelter there.
The first thing he noticed was the open storage room door.
The second was Rima, still tied up in the hallway, her dark hair matted with sweat.
He rushed to free her. "What happened?"
Rima rubbed her raw wrists. "Your brother happened. That little shit punched me and ran."
Shihab's hands curled into fists. The familiar burn of betrayal licked at his insides.
"Which way did he go?"
"Toward the docks, I think. He took my gun."
Shihab grabbed his shotgun from the rack, loading it with sharp, angry motions.
"That's it," he growled. "I'm done playing nice."
Karam appeared in the doorway, taking in the scene. "Are we going after him?"
Shihab racked the slide. "Oh yeah. And when I find him, he's gonna wish the zombies got him first."
Shihab's eyes hardened. He knew exactly where his brother was headed.
And this time, there'd be no mercy.
The docks reeked of rotting fish and gasoline, the wooden planks groaning under their boots as Shihab and Karam moved through the fog. The distant screech of gulls mixed with the ever-present moans of the undead.
Karam checked his pistol's magazine. "You sure he came this way?"
Shihab didn't answer at first, his eyes locked on the fresh boot prints in the damp wood. Too small to be a grown man's. His jaw tightened.
"Twelve years old," he finally said, voice low. "First time he ran away, he stole Mom's grocery money to buy fireworks. Made it three blocks before a shopkeeper dragged him home by his ear."
A zombie lurched from behind a stack of crates. Shihab silenced it with a knife to the temple before it could moan.
Karam whistled. "Kid's got spirit."
"Spirit?" Shihab wiped his blade on the corpse's shirt. "He burned down our neighbor's shed trying to light those damn fireworks. Nearly got arrested." He kicked a rusted can into the water. "Always the same pattern, he does something stupid, gets in trouble, then comes crying when it blows up in his face."
They reached the entrance of the abandoned textile factory, its broken windows like hollow eyes. The new graffiti on the walls a coiled viper with Qasim's initials confirmed their suspicions.
Karam peered through a crack in the boarded-up doors. "This time it's not a shed he's burning down."
Shihab racked his shotgun. "Exactly why I'm done cleaning up his messes."
A sudden crash echoed from inside glass shattering, then Ayham's voice shouting in panic.
Shihab's stomach dropped. That particular tone half defiance, half terror was one he'd heard too many times before.
"Damn it," he growled, already moving.
Karam grabbed his arm. "Thought you were gonna discipline him?"
Shihab shook him off, kicking the door open. "Later. First I have to save his stupid ass, again"
The shadows inside swallowed them whole. Somewhere in the darkness, Ayham was screaming.
The factory's second floor reeked of motor oil and sweat. Shihab moved silently along the catwalk, peering through the rusted grating at the scene below.
His breath caught.
Ayham knelt on the concrete, wrists bound behind his back. A man in a black mask pressed a cleaver against his pinky finger while Jabir the same crewmate who'd helped him escape held a lighter to his face.
"You talked to the Peacekeepers," Jabir sneered. "Qasim says traitors lose pieces."
Ayham thrashed. "I didn't tell them shi—"
The cleaver raised.
Shihab didn't think.
He vaulted over the railing and landed boots-first on Jabir's shoulders, sending them both crashing into a tool cart. The cleaver clattered across the floor.
Chaos erupted.
Karam burst through the door behind him, taking down two men with precise shots. Shihab grabbed Ayham by the collar and shoved him behind a desk.
"Stay down!"
Ayham's face was sheet-white. "Shihab, I—"
A bullet whizzed past Shihab's ear. He returned fire, dropping a gangster by the exit.
Karam tossed him a fresh mag. "Family reunion's touching, but we've got company!"
Outside, engines roared. Qasim was coming.
Shihab yanked his brother to his feet, slicing the ropes with his knife. Their eyes met, there was fury and shame in Ayham's eyes, and something worse, Shihab also saw regret.