The wilderness stretched endlessly, a tangle of dry fields and crooked pines bending in the autumn wind. Soufiane led the way, machete gripped tightly in his hand, every step measured, every sound dissected by his sharpened senses. Behind him, Amal supported Meriem, whose small frame was slowing from fatigue. Abderrazak brought up the rear, his gaze sweeping left and right, alert to every movement, every whisper of the wind.
The camp behind them was nothing but a smoldering memory — smoke curling into the gray morning sky, blackened ruins a reminder of fragile safety. Freedom had a bitter edge here. No walls, no gates, no patrols. Only the open, broken world, where danger prowled unseen and the infected moved without warning.
A rustle in the tall grass snapped Soufiane's attention. He froze, raising a hand. Amal stiffened beside him, clutching Meriem to her chest. Abderrazak's smirk faded into a sharpened focus, his hand tightening around the crowbar he had scavenged from the burned camp.
"Stay low," Soufiane hissed, voice tense and sharp.
The rustling grew louder, and then, with terrifying suddenness, two infected erupted from the tree line. Sunken eyes glimmered with hunger, jaws snapping, limbs twisted and jerky but moving far too fast for their decayed bodies. Meriem screamed as one lunged directly at her.
Time fractured. Soufiane reacted first, swinging his machete in a brutal arc, slicing into the nearest creature's shoulder. But the second had already reached Meriem. She stumbled back, heel catching a stone, falling hard onto the damp earth. The infected clamped onto her, teeth gnashing inches from her throat.
Abderrazak didn't hesitate. A roar tore from his chest as he slammed the crowbar into the creature's skull, striking again and again until it collapsed in a wet heap. Blood spattered across his face and shirt, but his eyes never left Meriem. He grabbed her arm, pulling her upright.
"You're okay," he said, voice low but firm. "I've got you."
Meriem clung to him, trembling, breath ragged. "I thought—I thought it was over—"
"Not while I'm here," Abderrazak interrupted, his sarcasm stripped away, replaced by raw, protective intensity.
Soufiane finished off the first infected with a clean, decisive swing, its head rolling into the dirt. He turned in time to see the brief moment between Meriem and Abderrazak — the girl gripping his arm, eyes wide with a mix of fear and gratitude. The protective gaze Abderrazak directed at her was unlike the detached cynicism Soufiane knew. It was fierce, almost parental.
A knot twisted in Soufiane's chest, but he shoved it aside. "We need to move," he snapped, voice tight. "The noise will bring more."
Abderrazak nodded, steadying Meriem before letting go. Amal hurried to her sister, checking for scratches or bruises, but Meriem shook her head. "I'm fine. He—he saved me." Her voice trembled but carried a quiet certainty, as if a new trust had been formed in the chaos.
They pressed forward through the uneven terrain, weaving between trees and rocks, until the cover of a rocky ridge offered a brief respite. Soufiane called for a halt, allowing the group to catch their breath. Amal pressed a hand to Meriem's back, whispering quiet reassurances, while Abderrazak sat a little apart, wiping the crowbar on his jeans, silent but alert.
Soufiane studied his old friend. Abderrazak had always carried shadows, leaning toward negativity, distrust, and sarcasm. But today, in the crucible of danger, he had chosen to protect. That choice, that instinct to shield the vulnerable, spoke louder than any words.
The wilderness was merciless. Every step forward was a risk, every shadow a potential threat. And yet, watching Meriem glance at Abderrazak with something close to trust, Soufiane realized that bonds were being forged here, in blood and fear — bonds that could change the group forever.
Still, the faint groans echoed from the distance, carried on the cold wind. Soufiane's fingers brushed the tattoo on his forearm, the angel holding Younes' name, and he felt the familiar surge of determination. Survival wasn't just endurance anymore—it was about who you fought for, who you protected, who you refused to leave behind.
And then, a sudden, almost imperceptible movement in the shadows ahead froze his blood. Something—or someone—was watching, crouched low beyond the ridge, waiting. A predator, silent but patient, biding its time. Soufiane's eyes narrowed, heart tightening. The night was not done testing them.
They were not safe. Not yet.