Seeing Zoey, he walked toward her, his steps slow and steady.
"You're not going to sleep?" Amitesh asked.
Zoey didn't turn around. "Someone has to make sure everything is safe."
She glanced at him. "What about you? Why aren't you sleeping?"
Amitesh sighed. "Gauri stole my bed. Now I'm homeless."
Zoey's lips curved slightly.
"Hey—stop smiling, you heartless woman."
"I'm not smiling."
"You are."
He exhaled softly, then straightened. "Alright. I've got some questions."
Zoey folded her arms. "Make it quick."
"I was stuck here for a year," Amitesh said. "I don't know anything about what's happening outside."
He paused. "Give me a global report."
Zoey snorted. "Global report? What do you think I am—an international news reporter? Ask something I can actually answer."
"Fine. Tell me about the rescue camps."
Zoey closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was calm but firm.
"Listen. I'm only saying this once."
"After the Apocalypse, large places—malls, stadiums, huge colleges, office complexes—were converted into rescue camps."
"The camp we live in is Base 23. It's the biggest one. Around five thousand two hundred people live there."
"It's made of seven buildings. One for the army. One for research and science. The remaining five are for residents."
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
"At first, the army held complete control. People didn't complain much."
"Then teenagers—anyone over fifteen—started awakening powers."
Amitesh frowned.
"That's when everything went wrong," Zoey continued. "They formed groups, caused chaos, challenged authority."
"So the army made a decision," she said quietly.
"They chose a young, strong, trusted person from among them… someone who could keep those awakened kids under control."
Amitesh nodded slowly. "So that's how Gauri became second commander-in-chief."
Zoey nodded in response.
After a pause, Amitesh asked, "You said there's a whole building for research. Do you know anything about mushroom heads?"
"Not much," Zoey replied. "Bullets don't work unless you hit their core. And the problem is—every mushroom head has its core in a different place."
"They're hard to kill," she added. "They regenerate fast unless you burn them completely or electrocute them."
"With engineering support, we built flamethrower guns," she said with a hint of frustration.
"But they're too big. Not practical for long-distance missions."
"If you want more details," Zoey finished, "ask Gauri."
Amitesh nodded. "That's… a lot of information."
The wind began to blow.
Zoey relaxed slightly, letting the cold breeze brush against her face.
Amitesh narrowed his eyes.
If this wind keeps up, he thought, the ash I spread will disappear.
I need to kill more mushroom heads.
"Hey, Zoey," he said suddenly. "How about you get some sleep? I'll take care of everything. Aren't you tired."
Zoey studied him for a long moment, as if trying to find the lie hidden behind his words.
"Tired?" she repeated. "That's a strange question to ask in this world."
Amitesh gave a small shrug. "Strange world, strange people."
She turned her gaze back toward the dark horizon, the ruined skyline barely visible under the moonlight. The wind tugged at her jacket.
"You don't need to play hero," Zoey said. "The night shift is my responsibility."
"And getting sick from exhaustion is also your responsibility?" Amitesh countered. "Because you look one bad night away from collapsing."
Zoey scoffed. "I'm fine."
"That's what everyone says right before they're not."
She shot him a sharp look. "You always talk this much?"
"Only when I want someone to listen."
A silence stretched between them. The distant crackle of burning ruins echoed somewhere far away.
Amitesh stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Zoey, nothing's going to happen tonight."
"How are you so sure."
"Because I live here ."
She glanced at him again. "You just said the wind was a problem."
He paused. "…Minor details."
Despite herself, Zoey let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
"Look," Amitesh continued, more serious now. "You've been awake for how long? Twenty hours? More?"
"Time doesn't matter anymore."
"It does," he said firmly. "Because when the person guarding everyone makes a mistake, people die."
Zoey's jaw tightened.
"That's not fair," she said quietly.
"Neither is this world," Amitesh replied. "But you don't have to carry it alone."
For the first time, Zoey looked tired—truly tired.
"And what if something happens while I'm asleep?" she asked.
Amitesh met her eyes without hesitation. "Then it happens to me first."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Zoey searched his face, as if measuring his strength, his resolve, his sanity.
"You really believe that," she murmured
.
"I don't believe it," he said. "I know it."
Another gust of wind passed between them. Finally, Zoey exhaled.
"Two hours," she said. "That's all."
Amitesh nodded immediately. "Deal. I'll wake you myself."
She turned to leave, then stopped. "If you fall asleep—"
"I won't."
"If you die—"
"Then I won't be tired anymore."
Zoey shook her head, a faint smile betraying her calm mask. "You're impossible."
"And you're going to sleep," Amitesh said, already turning back toward the watch line.
Zoey walked away, her steps slower now, heavier.
Amitesh watched until she disappeared into the shadows.
Then his expression hardened.
The wind howled again, carrying ash into the night.
The wind picked up again, colder this time.
It carried the faint smell of ash—burnt, bitter, and disgusting.
"Hey, System," Amitesh said softly. "Can you set a timer for two hours and thirty minutes?"
System: "Of course. Timer activated."
Amitesh grabbed a few plastic bags and rushed toward the pit where he usually burned the mushroom heads.
He jumped down carefully, the heat still lingering in the blackened soil, and began collecting the ash with his bare hands. The smell was sharp and bitter, clinging to his skin.
Ten minutes passed.
Five bags—filled to the brim.
Amitesh wiped sweat from his forehead.
"How much time is left?"
System: "One hour and forty minutes remaining."
Amitesh clenched his jaw. "I have to be quick."
He took off running.
When he reached the buildings, he slowed, moving carefully as he spread the ash around the perimeter—near entrances, walls, and blind spots where shadows gathered. The wind threatened to undo his work, but he adjusted, working against it.
When he finally finished, his chest was heaving.
He looked at the floating system display.
Time Remaining: One hour.
"Pheww…" Amitesh let out a shaky breath. "That was close."
He lifted his hands, grimacing at the dark stains and the foul smell clinging to them.
"I need to wash my hands," he muttered, "before this stench sticks to me forever."
He turned toward the water station.
The wind shifted.
A faint, unfamiliar sound echoed from somewhere beyond the ash line.
Amitesh stopped.
Slowly, his relaxed posture vanished.
His eyes narrowed.
Something's moving, he thought.
He flexed his fingers, ignoring the filth still coating them, and looked out into the darkness.
"One hour," he whispered.
"Just stay quiet for one hour.
Amitesh turned toward the water bucket he fill in hope that it might attract bird's.
That was when the system flickered.
For just a second.
Then again.
System: —static—
Amitesh froze.
The night felt… wrong.
Too quiet. Even the wind had stopped.
A soft crunch echoed from beyond the ash line.
Amitesh's hand tightened and chench.
"System," he whispered, "scan."
No response.
Another sound—slow, wet footsteps dragging across the ground.
From the darkness, something moved.
A silhouette emerged, tall and crooked, its body covered in pale, bloated growths. Fungal caps pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
A mushroom head.
But this one was different.
It didn't charge.
It didn't scream.
It just stood there—inside the ash perimeter.
Amitesh's blood ran cold.
"That's not possible," he muttered. "You shouldn't be able to cross."
The mushroom head tilted its head.
And then—
A whisper brushed past his ear.
"Ami… tesh…"
His breath caught.
That voice.
It wasn't mechanical.
It wasn't monstrous.
It was human.
Slowly, Amitesh turned.
Behind him stood a figure—half-transparent, pale as moonlight. Her feet didn't touch the ground. Her face was familiar, frozen in an expression of pain and longing.
A ghost.
Her eyes were hollow, yet locked onto his.
"You didn't save us," she whispered.
Amitesh's heart slammed against his ribs.
"No," he said under his breath. "You're not real."
The ghost drifted closer. The air around her dropped in temperature, frost forming on the metal railing nearby.
"We screamed," she said softly. "You were here… and you still let us burn."
The mushroom head behind the ash line began to twitch.
Its fungal caps opened, revealing a faint glow deep within its chest—not a core.
Something else.
Amitesh stepped back slowly.
"System," he said louder. "Emergency override."
System: …connection unstable…
The ghost raised her hand.
The ash on the ground began to lift—rising into the air as if pulled by invisible strings.
Amitesh realized it then.
This isn't one threat.
The mushroom head wasn't attacking.
It was waiting.
The ghost smiled.
And somewhere in the distance—
Zoey's door creaked open.
"Why didn't amitesh wake me up, is he alright."
Amitesh whispered, barely breathing,
"Don't wake up… please don't wake up."
Amitesh face cover in sweat despite the cold weather.
The timer continued to tick down.
00:58:12