CHAPTER THREE
" Haven Station"
The radio crackled again.
"....Haven Station… survivors… coordinates… east sector..."
Then silence.
Ezekiel tightened his grip on the axe. The static faded, leaving only the hum of wind scraping through dead streets. He looked at Lana, who was half-covered in dust and blood.
"You heard it too?" she asked, breath quick.
"Yeah," he said. "Could be a trap. Could be salvation."
She gave a small, humorless laugh. "At this point, I'll take either."
They walked. Smoke hung low, curling around ruined cars and shattered windows. Somewhere above, crows circled the skeleton of a skyscraper. Every shadow looked alive.
By midday they reached the bridge.
Steel girders twisted, half collapsed into the river below. The water moved thick and black, littered with floating bodies that bumped softly against the concrete.
Ezekiel stopped to scan the other side. Faded letters on a wall read "HAVEN..."the rest scorched away.
"There," he said.
Lana's eyes followed his. "Then why do I feel like it's waiting for us?"
Before he could answer, the wind shifted again carrying a low, wet moan. Then another.
They turned.
Dozens of them crawled from under vehicles and from the shadowed tunnels eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. Not the slow, staggering ones this time. These moved like hunters.
"Run!" Ezekiel barked.
They sprinted onto the bridge, boots echoing on the steel plates. Behind them came the screeches claws scraping metal, the sound of flesh slapping against iron.
Halfway across, one of the creatures leapt onto a railing and launched itself at Lana. She screamed _Ezekiel swung the axe mid-turn, catching it in the ribs and sending it spinning into the water below.
"Keep moving!" he shouted.
"I'm trying!"
Another lunged _ he drove a boot into its chest, but more were climbing the sides now, arms reaching, teeth gnashing. The bridge groaned under the weight.
"Faster!" he yelled, grabbing her hand. "We're not dying here!"
They reached the center when the first explosion hit.
A tanker truck on the far side went up in a blossom of orange and black _shockwave ripping through the air, knocking them both off their feet.
Lana slid toward the edge _ Ezekiel caught her wrist just as the guardrail broke.
"Don't let go!" she cried.
"Wasn't planning to!" he grunted, hauling her up. The heat scorched their faces; glass rained like sparks.
Then came the sound hundreds of shrieks in unison. The blast had drawn every infected in the area. From the tunnels, from the rooftops, from the water itself , they poured toward the bridge like a flood of death.
Ezekiel's eyes darted to a maintenance ladder on the side of the structure. "Down!" he shouted.
They clambered over the edge, boots slipping on rusted metal. A corpse fell past them, splashing below. The air was a storm of smoke and rot.
They dropped onto a maintenance platform under the bridge, landing hard.
Lana groaned. "Now what?!"
Ezekiel looked around _ saw a narrow walkway leading to the riverbank. Above them, the horde swarmed across the bridge, roaring, the whole structure shuddering under their weight.
He motioned her forward. "Go!"
They ran, balancing along the thin beam. One wrong step and they'd fall. Ahead, a door in the bridge's concrete support stood half open.
"Inside!" he said.
They slipped through just as something heavy crashed behind them. Inside was darkness _ cold and echoing, a maintenance tunnel leading into the old subway line.
The moment the door slammed shut, the pounding started.
Fists. Claws. Teeth. The infected had found them.
Lana pressed against the wall, shaking. "They're going to break through!"
Ezekiel's flashlight flicked on, beam cutting through dust. "Then we keep moving until they don't."
They followed the tunnel _ footsteps splashing in shallow water, breath echoing off concrete. The sound of pursuit faded, replaced by distant groans that seemed to come from *everywhere.*
Up ahead, light. A faint glow through a metal grate. Ezekiel climbed first, forcing the grate open.
They emerged into an abandoned subway station _wide, empty, littered with corpses and overturned trains. On the far wall, someone had painted a symbol: a sun rising over a fortress.
"Look," Lana said softly. "Haven Station."
Ezekiel stepped forward, scanning the room. "If this is Haven, where's everyone?"
A noise answered him the metallic click of a rifle being cocked.
"Hands up," a voice growled. "Both of you."
From behind the train stepped three figures _armored, scarred, armed to the teeth. Survivors.
Lana's breath caught. "We heard your signal!"
The man in front tall, hard-eyed ,kept his weapon steady. "You weren't supposed to find us."
Ezekiel frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Before he could move, a deafening roar came from the tunnel they'd just escaped. The gate burst open and the infected came pouring through, dozens of them.
"Shit!" the guard yelled. "They followed you!"
Chaos erupted. Gunfire thundered through the station. Ezekiel grabbed Lana and dove behind a bench as bullets tore through the horde. One of the soldiers went down screaming; another was dragged into the dark.
Ezekiel rose, swung his axe into the nearest creature, and grabbed the fallen rifle. He fired into the mass headshots, precise, relentless.
"Move!" he shouted to the survivors. "Back entrance!"
They fought their way toward a service door, covering each other. Lana swung her bat until her arms bled; Ezekiel's gun clicked empty, and he went back to the axe.
Finally, they burst through the back exit into daylight — the door slamming shut behind them. Silence returned, broken only by the sound of their ragged breathing.
Ezekiel leaned against the wall, blood on his face, eyes burning with fury.
The soldier turned to him, panting. "You just brought hell to our doorstep."
Ezekiel glared back. "No," he said, voice low. "Hell was already here."
The man hesitated then, slowly, lowered his rifle. "Name's Darius. You fight like you want to live."
"Ezekiel," he said, shaking his hand. "And yeah .... I plan to."
Lana collapsed beside them, laughing weakly. "We're alive."
Ezekiel looked toward the ruined skyline, smoke curling upward like a dying world's prayer.
"For now," he murmured. "But this isn't over. Haven's not what it seems."