Night fell heavy, suffocating the camp under a velvet darkness that even the torches could not pierce. Each flame flickered weakly, a trembling witness to the approaching chaos. The survivors moved cautiously, whispering as though sound itself might summon death to their door. Every shadow seemed alive, twisting with menace, and the tension pressed down on Soufiane's chest like a physical weight.
He sat near the northern barricade, knife in hand, the rough wood cutting into his palm as he traced the handle, trying to calm the storm within. Across from him, Amal whispered softly to Meriem, who clung to her sleeve, trembling but trying to steady herself. Abderrazak leaned against a post, arms folded, his smirk gone, replaced by a rare seriousness that made Soufiane's gut tighten.
Then it came. First a low murmur carried by the wind—groans, guttural and uneven, too numerous to count. Soufiane stiffened. Every guard in the camp heard it, and torches flared as weapons were raised and eyes darted into the blackness.
"They're here," someone whispered, voice barely audible above the wind.
The first impact rattled the northern wall—a violent thud that made Soufiane's stomach twist. Another followed, then another, until the barricade shuddered under repeated strikes. He leapt to his feet as shouts erupted, a cacophony of orders and screams clashing in the darkness.
From the blackness, shapes emerged: infected, their movements jerky yet unnervingly coordinated. They pressed forward, claws slamming against weakened wood. Splinters flew, and the groaning of the barricade filled the night air like a funeral dirge.
"They're testing us again!" a guard yelled, panic edging his voice.
"No," Soufiane growled, knife clenched in his fist. "They're breaking through."
The wall cracked with a deafening snap. The first infected poured through, teeth bared, eyes glinting with hunger. Chaos exploded as the camp unraveled—survivors scattered, some fighting, others running blindly. The fragile sense of community dissolved in seconds, replaced by pure survival instinct.
Soufiane grabbed Amal's arm. "Stay close!" he shouted, yanking her and Meriem toward the southern barricade. Abderrazak moved with terrifying precision, swinging a rusted pipe, knocking one infected down with a single, calculated blow.
"Thought you didn't believe in fighting," Soufiane shouted over the din.
Abderrazak smirked grimly, striking again. "I don't. But I believe in living."
They ran, weaving between tents as fire consumed wooden frames, smoke stinging their eyes and filling their lungs. Each step was a gamble; every shadow could hide death. At the southern barricade, a gap had already formed from panicked survivors fleeing the inferno. Beyond it lay the open fields—dark, uncertain, but freer than the burning hell behind them.
"Go!" Soufiane yelled, shoving Amal and Meriem through the gap. Abderrazak followed, pipe in hand. Soufiane lingered only a moment longer, slashing at an infected that lunged too close, blood sizzling on his skin. Then he sprinted, bursting into the night as the camp behind them collapsed in a symphony of fire, screams, and splintering wood.
The four of them stumbled into the blackness, hearts pounding, breaths ragged. Only after putting distance between themselves and the inferno did Soufiane slow. He scanned the horizon; the glow of the camp was now a distant smear, its screams fading into silence. Amal held Meriem tightly, whispering reassurances she wasn't sure she could keep. Abderrazak rested against the grass, pipe at his side, exhaustion finally overtaking his usual bravado.
Soufiane's eyes lingered on the fading blaze. The reality was unrelenting: no barricade, no camp, no false hope would ever hold forever. The road ahead was uncertain, full of dangers yet unseen. But tonight, they had survived together. And that survival—fragile as it was—might just be the first step toward finding Younes.
Cliffhanger: In the distance, beyond the fields, faint shadows move—too distant to be sure, too deliberate to ignore. Something is watching them, waiting for the right moment. And Soufiane knows the night is far from over.