Chapter 5: War.
Perspective: Kiyotaka Ayanokouji.
The door creaked as it closed behind us. Inside, the air smelled of paper, cold sweat, and reheated coffee. María stood beside a large map of Jackson pinned to the wall, red tacks marking infection points. Tommy, Jesse, and Joel were already waiting around the table. I sat down in silence, observing as the others exchanged tense looks.
María lowered her voice, though it wasn't necessary: we were all speaking in whispers heavy with urgency.
"The patrol reports from the last 72 hours show a 300% increase in infected near the east and south sectors of the wall."
Jesse rested his elbows on the table. "Clickers, runners… we've even seen some new types. More aggressive."
Joel pointed to a spot on the map. "At the old bridge crossing, near the supermarket, the infected broke the fence. We were there yesterday. There are too many."
Tommy frowned. "If they keep this up, that wall collapses in two days. And then the next one."
María turned to me. "Kiyotaka, what do you think? You detected changes in their behavior before anyone else."
I raised my eyes, measuring my words. "The infected are operating almost like a pack: coordinating attacks in waves. They're no longer individual predators, but intelligent swarms."
Jesse snorted. "Intelligent? Now they evolve too?"
"Reinforced instinct," I corrected. "They've learned to flank us. To use the environment. They don't smell the same anymore: the mix of our scents and the organic remains draws them like a magnet."
Tommy locked his gaze on María. "Do we have reinforcements? The north walls?"
María shook her head. "The squad we sent didn't return. We lost contact twelve hours ago."
Silence. The situation was worse than we thought.
Joel clenched his fists. "We can't wait for the walls to fall. There are civilians on the other side."
"I propose smaller, faster patrols," I said. "Instead of a large static line, use mobile teams of four: two shoot, one covers, one scans the surroundings."
Jesse nodded. "I'm in. But we need light gear and escape routes. No getting trapped in hallways."
Tommy grabbed a red tack and pressed it hard into the map. "If we take that supply depot to the south as an advance base, we can control that outbreak before it reaches here."
María folded her arms. "The depot is fifteen minutes out on patrol. But it's surrounded by infected. Who's going?"
Joel raised his hand calmly. "I'm going with Jesse. Kiyotaka, I want you rounding out the team. You pick the routes."
"Fine. But we need aerial coverage—the drone."
Tommy shook his head. "The drone died at the bridge. Never came back."
María sighed. "Then we do it the old way. Quick assault plan: west entrance, secure the door, establish perimeter, clear the interior, activate the manual alarm to draw infected away."
"Sounds fun," Jesse commented.
Joel tilted his head toward me. "Get your gear ready. We leave in twenty minutes."
While the others discussed ammo and timing, I kept my eyes fixed on the map. This was the chance to test my approach. And, at the same time, to earn a real place in Jackson.
María closed the dossier and looked up. "Good luck."
Without another word, we left the office.
This time, I'm going to test myself against violence—and see if I'm capable of using it to my advantage.
…
Time Skip – Patrol.
The day smelled of mold, old blood, and disturbed earth.
The depot rose before us: a rusted, cracked mass of metal. Around it, like twisted shadows, dozens of infected moved. Clickers. Runners. Stalkers lurking farther back.
Tommy raised his hand: signal to move in formation.
We advanced fast, low, using debris and pillars for cover.
First contact.
A Runner lunged from the remains of a broken fence.
Jesse fired a quick burst, but missed the chest shot.
Before the infected could reach him, I was already there.
I kicked the creature's knee inward, shattering it, and with a single shotgun blast, blew its skull apart in an eruption of bone and flesh.
Warm blood splashed across my face.
"Keep moving!" Tommy ordered, firing at a group coming from the left.
Dry shots, warped screams, bodies dropping. The runners came like an unstoppable tide, but we cut them down.
I fired twice more, straight to the heads of two infected running side by side. Their limp bodies collided in the air like broken puppets.
When a Clicker leapt from atop a rusted trailer, I rolled aside, rose in one fluid motion, and shot it point-blank in the jaw. The impact lifted it off the ground before it fell on its back, dead.
Jesse glanced at me while reloading his rifle, jaw tight.
A horde of five runners rushed from the right flank.
Joel, Tommy, and Jesse took cover, preparing precise shots.
I didn't wait.
I launched myself toward them.
With the shotgun stock, I shattered the first skull.
Grabbed the second by the neck, using it as a shield while I shot the third and fourth at point-blank range.
Without hesitation, I pressed the pistol under the creature's jaw and pulled the trigger.
The jet of blood stained my jacket.
"Holy shit… you're a machine!" Tommy yelled.
We entered the depot.
Infected crouched between broken shelves. A stench that burned the throat.
Joel and Jesse fired.
With precision, I fired a pistol into the heads of several Runners, one after another, consecutively. And with a final shot, the erratic screams faded, marking our first victory.
"What the hell are you, Kiyotaka?"
I shrugged, wiping the blood from my face with my sleeve.
"Just another guy from Jackson, I guess."
Jesse kicked an infected corpse.
"After this, you'll be more than that, man."
Joel approached, patting my shoulder.
"Good work, kid."
We secured the perimeter. We activated the manual alarm. The straggling infected, drawn by the sound, began moving away from Jackson, leaving our wall safe… at least for now.
From the depot roof, I looked toward the city in the distance. Life was still there.
"It's getting dark. Let's go," I said as I stepped out of the depot, the three of them following behind.
Jackson – Sunset
The air was cold, but not enough to be uncomfortable.
The town lights were starting to turn on, and as I walked through the streets, I observed the details of this place I still didn't fully understand.
I didn't have a particular destination. I just walked.
I heard a voice casually from my side.
"Hey."
It was Ellie. She came up beside me.
"I almost didn't recognize you," she said.
I glanced at her briefly.
"I wish that had been the case," I replied.
"Right," she shot back.
We kept walking in silence. She kicked a rock on the road.
"It's weird hearing you talk," she commented.
"I'm not talking that much," I said.
"For your standards, this is basically a speech."
I didn't answer.
The footsteps on the ground, the murmur of people, the echo from the nearby mountains—everything mixed into a noise that filled my ears.
"You know," Ellie went on, "I bet you were mute at first. Lost my dinner."
"You shouldn't bet without enough information," I said.
"Thanks, Captain Obvious," she huffed, rolling her eyes.
We kept walking.
"You got any weird hobbies?" she asked suddenly.
I thought for a few seconds.
"Counting streetlights."
She blinked.
"Counting streetlights?"
"Street lamps. From point A to point B."
I heard her let out a dry laugh.
"And what's the record?"
"116," I answered.
"Incredible. You really know how to have fun."
"I do," I said with my usual tone.
She clicked her tongue.
"You're like a damn instruction manual."
"I'm not a book," I said.
Ellie let out a short laugh, shaking her head.
"That's exactly what a book would say."
We stopped in front of an old, rusty vending machine.
Ellie kicked it with her foot.
After talking about how to steal it, we kept walking.
Ellie kicked another rock.
"Do you know how to do something stupid? Something completely useless?" she asked out of nowhere, glancing at me sideways.
I thought for a moment.
"I can imitate the sound of a microwave."
She stopped.
"What?"
"Beep," I said, expressionless.
"You're a psychopath," she muttered.
I didn't respond. I kept walking.
Ellie jogged a couple of steps to catch up.
"Now I'm worried. If I disappear one day, I bet your microwave has something to do with it."
We walked side by side, in a silence that, somehow, wasn't uncomfortable.
Maybe, in our own way, we were starting to understand each other.
Ellie kicked another stone and broke the silence again.
"Hey…" she began, this time more serious.
I didn't answer. I waited for her to continue.
"I heard about the ambush in the south," she said, glancing at me. "They said you were one of the first picked."
I nodded, not very interested.
"And what? You didn't think to tell me? Or bring me along?" she asked, crossing her arms as she walked.
"It wasn't planned," I answered.
"But you could've come to get me!" she insisted, clearly irritated. "I could've helped!"
"The objective was to minimize casualties," I said simply.
"And you think I'm guaranteed to die or what?"
I looked at her for a second.
"Great. Now I'm a damn liability."
"I didn't say that," I clarified.
"You implied it with your face," she grumbled.
"I don't have different faces for different things," I explained.
Ellie huffed.
"I hate it when you talk like that."
"Like what?"
"Shut up."
…
"I just… I don't know. You could've considered me, you know? Even for something small."
"I'll consider you next time," I said.
Ellie looked at me sideways, evaluating me.
"Are you serious or is that another automatic response?"
"Maybe."
We kept walking.
Her annoyance felt real, but at the same time… it didn't seem like she was going to hate me for it. It was more like a kind of resigned irritation, as if she already knew I was this way and still chose to keep talking to me.
"How old are you?" the question slipped out of me suddenly.
"Eighteen."
…
"What about it?"
"No, nothing."
"Well, how old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"What? Seventeen?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands to her head. "It can't be! I've been taking seriously the plans of a kid!"
I didn't respond. I just looked at her, waiting for her to vent.
"God, this is embarrassing," she went on, with a crooked smile. "You know that technically you could still be my padawan, right? Like… Ellie's apprentice."
"I'd rather be exiled," I said.
She let out a short laugh.
"Ha! I knew it! Proud and stubborn, just like a proper brat!" she said, giving me a tap on the shoulder.
"You know what else?" she added, turning around to keep walking. "From now on, you're carrying my backpack. It's only fair, genius kid."
"Keep dreaming."
"You'll see… I'm going to make you say 'yes, Miss Ellie' before nightfall."
I didn't answer. I heard her laughing to herself as she walked ahead, clearly enjoying her newfound superiority far too much.
…
The way she presented herself, her constant need to stay in control, her habit of deflecting any sign of vulnerability—all of it pointed to something deeper. Something that couldn't be handled with simple sarcastic replies or dismissive attitudes.
There were moments when, for a second, her eyes would empty out, as if she were absorbing the weight of a memory even she didn't want to revisit. Those moments didn't go unnoticed. She hid them well, yes, but for someone who's been trained to read beyond words, those small details couldn't be concealed.
She didn't like talking about herself. That wasn't a secret. And when she did, her words carried enough emotional weight to know that it wasn't just pain—it was something more. A palpable fear. A fear of losing something… or someone. That need to feel accepted or included, to be considered, wasn't just a whim. There was something more behind that behavior.
…
Ellie, you're afraid of being alone. You're afraid of not being accepted, of being excluded. A quite common phobia; monophobia. An irrational fear of being alone.
Every day I learn more about you.
End of Chapter.