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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE instant the Infected made a move, Anastasia's heart lurched.

Shit, she thought as she turned around and started running. She stumbled through the field, hindered by debris and bashed-in crates, and she heard the ravenous growling of the creatures right on her heels. She had to warn the others. Shit!

Heavy footfalls echoed as Anastasia stormed across the camp, trying to reach the buildings as quickly as possible. The grass parted sideways under each step, and the sky seemed to open up for the sun to beat down tirelessly, causing the air to press down on the woman from all sides. As she ran, the sound behind her intensified. They were getting too close. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw several Runners lunging towards her, their eyes wild with hunger.

With a burst of adrenaline, the woman picked up the pace and reached the edge of the nearest structure, skidding to a stop in front of its entrance. She swung open the door, making her way up a flight of stairs until she found the others grouped up, their weapons ready. Her first instinct was to look for Diego; he was right there, grasping a Glock 17 handgun strategically.

"What's going on?" Marc asked, his expression tense.

"The Infected," she gasped. "They're running wild. Somebody breached the fence and let them in."

Diego's eyes widened in alarm. "Are you okay?"

"It doesn't matter. We have to do something!"

Elliot agreed. "We need to defend the camp. And find the culprit because whoever stole our weapons let those bastards in."

"Can I get a weapon?" Anastasia asked suddenly, expecting dirty looks in response. However, Marc pushed a gun into her hands without hesitation, sizing her with his dark green eyes. As her fingers closed around the battered hilt, she nodded. "Thanks."

"Don't make me regret it," he said, corralling his attention towards the hallway. A loud crash echoed from downstairs. "Everyone, stay alert. Try to stick together."

Anastasia watched with bated breath as the survivors clutched their weapons, her heart pounding with anticipation. It seemed as though time crawled in slow-motion, a torturous waiting before the first Infected emerged from around the corner. Inhaling sharply, the woman drew her gun and braced herself to open fire. She felt a surge of adrenaline, a rush in her veins as the shot thundered in the corridor, and a dangerous battle between the dead and the living ensued.

The bullets cut through the confined space, roaring with determination to take down the monsters. Click! Bang! Boom!

Everyone fought tooth and nail to protect their home. Marc and Elliot stayed behind to guard the squad against rear attacks whilst Mercy and Diego secured the middle area. Anastasia joined Luc on the front to fend off the oncoming Infected. And despite the odds against them, they somehow managed to hold their ground, taking down wave after wave of those zombified creatures.

As time wore on, sustaining the defence became increasingly arduous and time-consuming. Anastasia's muscles began to cramp from the constant recoil, emptying clip after clip, and a searing pain flared up in her abdomen. She tried to maintain her stance, but it grew progressively more challenging as the minutes ticked away.

She gritted her teeth and willed herself to persist. Click! Bang! Boom! The fight continued.

"Elliot, watch out!" Mercy shouted suddenly.

Anastasia snapped her head toward the man, her eyes widening in horror. He was battling three Runners at once. One of the creatures had pinned him against the wall with a show of brute force, coming dangerously close to his neck. With a racing heart, the woman recklessly abandoned her position, charging forward to his aid. As she aimed the gun ahead, she took the Infected down with a grunt. Click! Bang! Boom! She didn't even hesitate.

Blood sprinkled all over Elliot as he gasped for air, his face awash with relief. His eyes instantly locked on Anastasia—he didn't utter a word, but she knew he was grateful nonetheless. Why? She could have left him there as live bait and still decided to save his butt. Damn her and her instincts. Fucking heroism.

A sudden groan reverberated through the corridor, causing Anastasia to swing around, pivoting on her heels. She caught sight of Diego peering out the nearest window, his lips thinning with irritation. A momentary resentment flickered inside her, but concern replaced it swiftly.

She risked a question. "What's wrong?"

"There are more of them outside," he spoke urgently. "They're about to raid the building, and we're running low on ammunition. We need to leave now."

With Diego's alarming words still omnipresent, the group pressed on and tried to make their way out of the building, each filled with burning determination to survive. They navigated the labyrinthine halls easily, their footfalls echoing as they ran past the structure. Luc managed to get ahead of everyone and led the campers toward the fire escape, the door giving in with a loud squeak. As they stepped out to bathe in the sunlight, Elliot breathed.

"Finally."

"Shh! Be quiet!" Luc warned, nodding toward the closest tent. A Clicker was pacing around the triangular shelter, screeching with each step. He mouthed, "Take it down and skedaddle out of here."

Anastasia felt compelled to execute the monster, her killer instincts firing up before anyone could react to Luc's command. Without hesitation, she held her hand out, a mixture of stoicism and tenacity riddling her face.

"Give me a knife. I'll get it done."

When she received the weapon, the woman wasted no time delivering her promise. She skilfully carved up the Clicker, leaving its livid body to drop to the ground. With a soft thud, it buckled under the weight, and the group safely began their journey out of the camp. They often took cover behind crates, tents and other buildings, trying to remain as hidden as possible.

A horde of Infected shuffled past them near the outskirts—it seemed they got out of sight. The only noise that drew the creatures' attention was the crumbling brick wall as one of the structures gave in to the relentless force.

"Are they gone?" Marc whispered.

Luc peeked over the crates. "I don't see them anymore. We need to move before they come back, though."

The group got up and ran towards the empty streets, their footsteps echoing in the deadly silence. Overflipped cars and uprooted electric poles met their eyes; the apocalypse washed over the countryside ruthlessly. Emerald green vines swirled through the entire road, burrowing into the concrete. The stone cracked up in erratic patterns as the woody plant dotted the ground—an impressive sight for the passers-by.

"Are we going to make it out?" Mercy panted.

"We have to," Diego said. "We can't stay here forever."

The survivors turned a corner and came face-to-face with a group of Infected. They quickly spun around and ran in the other direction, barging through the hollow street as the creatures closed in.

"Fuck! We can't shake them off!"

"Shoot them!" Anastasia yelled. "There's no other way."

Marc took out his gun and fired, the bullet piercing through the head of one of the Infected. The others stumbled over the lifeless body, giving the campers a chance to escape. They got out of town and into the wilderness, their breaths ragged and their hearts pounding.

Mercy collapsed onto the ground. "I can't believe we made it."

"Yeah, but we still need to keep moving," Elliot reminded them. "The bastards will keep coming."

Anastasia scoured the barren landscape. "We need to find shelter."

"That, and supplies."

"Some ammo would be nice, too."

The group nodded, knowing that their survival depended on it. They set off, their eyes scanning the horizon for signs of life or danger. As they waltzed through the badlands in complete silence, Anastasia could feel the rising tension. She caught a glimpse of Diego eyeing her during their walk, but she remained mute. She didn't want to talk to him.

"Guys, look over there!" Elliot said, pointing towards an abandoned settlement in the distance. Thank goodness he saved her from the awkwardness. "Maybe we can take a rest."

Marc shook his head. "Bud, it's too risky. We don't know what's inside."

But Anastasia was already moving towards the settlement, her curiosity piqued. As they got closer, she noticed the buildings were in disrepair, and there was no sign of life.

"It looks deserted," Mercy reinforced.

"Still, be careful."

Anastasia nodded in agreement as she cautiously approached the building. The door was slightly ajar, and dust particles lifted from the wooden surface as she pushed it open with a creak. The interior was dimly lit, with more dust and debris covering the floors and walls. As the woman stepped inside with her weapon ready, the others followed closely behind, sweeping through the supplies dangerously fast. They didn't find anything useful.

As they searched the abandoned settlement, Anastasia couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. But thankfully, despite the faint rustling noise, no one was nearby.

"We're okay," Diego said, collapsing onto a wine-stained couch. "I need a minute to rest."

The group nodded and joined him, whopping down onto various pieces of furniture, grateful for the chance to catch their breath. But Luc squirmed in his seat, unable to relax.

"Somebody has to check the perimeter," he said. "Just to make sure there aren't any Infected lurking around."

Elliot sprang to his feet. "You guys take a break. I'll go."

"I'm coming with you."

Anastasia stood her ground, meeting his intense gaze head-on as she spoke with conviction. Her words reverberated in the stale air. And though she felt a warm uneasiness under his stare, she didn't flinch. She was hell-bent on helping him—if only to avoid her brother. Because when she set her mind to something, "no" was not an option in her vocabulary.

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ MOST of their journey went silently. Anastasia had her mind preoccupied with intrusive thoughts about the recent happenings; she couldn't shake off the bitter emotions attached to her brother. And she certainly couldn't feel inclined to chat with the man who had injured her in the middle of an apocalypse, with only a flimsy excuse about mistaking her for an Infected.

The woman was also preoccupied with how she could escape. She still had a strong desire to run, and being alone with someone she had already taken down once made it seem all the more feasible. But the nagging thought of abandoning her brother again weighed heavily on her, tugging at her heartstrings. The inner debate felt exhausting. Why can't she dip? Diego proved his loyalty to someone else. Why can't she just do the same?

Elliot broke the silence with a sigh, interrupting Anastasia from her thoughts.

"You're unusually quiet," he noted.

"Is that a problem?"

"It's even more annoying than the word vomit you had earlier. I liked that version of you better."

"Oh, right," Anastasia scoffed, feeling stupid for thinking Elliot would care about her feelings. "Sorry, I'm not a hotline to fix your boredom."

"That's not what I meant," he said sincerely, his expression softening. He leaned closer to her. "I just want to know if you're okay. You seem troubled."

Anastasia tensed at his sudden kindness, caught off guard. She felt her heart skip a beat, and an unusual warmth pooled in her stomach. She shook her head to avoid his gaze and the vortex of emotions.

"I'm fine," she muttered, the words feeling foreign on her tongue.

"You don't have to pretend," Elliot said softly. "We're all going through a lot, and it's okay to be scared, worried or angry. You don't have to carry all that by yourself."

Anastasia remained silent. She wanted to tell him everything, but even the thought of being vulnerable with someone she barely knew scared her more than the Infected lurking around the corner. She couldn't open up to him. Not yet.

As they continued their scouting trip, they stumbled upon an abandoned shack, its entrance barred off with makeshift wooden planks. The house looked rustic, with small patches of stone and logs holding it together. It seemed the roof was on the verge of collapsing, causing Anastasia to feel reluctant when Elliot pointed towards the structure to approach it.

"Let's check it out."

"This place is standing on its last leg, and you want to go inside?! Brilliant idea."

"What could go wrong?"

"Was that a serious question?" Anastasia deadpanned.

"No, princess, it was not. Let's go."

The woman shook her head in disbelief as they entered the house, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. Elliot led the way, scanning the rooms for anything valuable while Anastasia followed, keeping her guard up. As they moved through the building, she noticed some items that would be useful; a few cans of food and ammunition lying on the table.

"We should grab these," she said, pointing towards the necessities.

Elliot agreed, grabbing his worn-brown backpack. As he bagged the resources, he suddenly turned to her.

"Listen, about earlier," he began, his tone hesitant. "I know I messed up. The guilt—it's everywhere. I didn't want, didn't mean to. Guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry."

Anastasia looked at him for a long moment, considering his words. He seemed frustrated at how badly he explained, his fingers carding through his greasy hair helplessly. She felt her cheeks heat up as she measured the gravity of the situation. He opened up to her, and she didn't know what to do.

Finally, a nod. "Okay, fine, I get it. Apology accepted. But that doesn't mean I forgot the whole thing already. You'll have to do a lot more than simply saying sorry."

Elliot's face broke into a relieved smile. "No, this is good enough. I can live with it."

Anastasia agreed. "You don't have much of a choice."

An all-compassing silence followed their conversation. They didn't know what else to say. The only sound was the shuffling of their feet and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards. They worked efficiently, quickly filling their bags with anything of value. The tension between them was palpable during the entirety of their looting session.

Once they finished, they made their way out of the decaying structure. The weight of the atmosphere sat on their shoulders as the pair began their walk back, the items they gathered now tucked safely into their bags. They had a long journey ahead.

Anastasia found comfort in the lack of words. She had to process emotions and thoughts about her brother and their situation, and the quiet allowed her to do just that. It was almost as if the silence was a temporary escape from the horrors of the world, even though she knew it wouldn't last forever.

She watched Elliot breeze through the place, the sun a heavy beat on his dark-brown curls. His muscles effortlessly contracted and released with each step. There was something about his movements that made Anastasia feel as though she'd slouched. Confidence. She let a sigh fall past her lips and refocused her attention on the road, a sense of inadequacy washing over her.

The woman had to laugh at herself. Even at the end of the world, where skills and survival came first, she still managed to find a way to feel inferior in comparison. It was a sad revelation hanging above her head like dark clouds on a stormy day. She was a joke.

After about ten minutes of walking, Elliot suddenly stopped in his tracks. He held out his arm to halt Anastasia, and she looked at him with confusion, her eyebrows furrowing. He gestured towards a nearby building. She followed his gaze and spotted a canteen, dirty plates and breadcrumbs left on the tables. It was clear that someone had recently been there.

"What now?" Anastasia asked, her voice barely a whisper. She didn't want to alert anyone of their presence. "Why'd we stop?"

"We could raid the building to see if we find any food," Elliot suggested.

"Are you insane?! What if there's someone inside?"

"Then we deal with them."

"That, or they deal with us."

"Look, if you don't take risks, you won't—"

"This is not a risk, Elliot," she grunted. "This is stupidity. And stupidity gets you killed."

"Suit yourself then. I'm going in."

She grabbed him by the shoulders, standing in his way with an angry scowl. "No, you're not! We need to warn the others, you idiot."

A loud creak cut their banter short. The canteen's door swung open forcefully, and someone emerged from the building. The person stormed through the terrace to gather the dirty plates, freezing the pair as they watched the figure with bated breath. Anastasia then took Elliot's hand and pulled themselves behind the fence, shadowed by the nearby structure. They crouched silently, waiting until the stranger disappeared.

Anastasia's heart pounded against her chest, and she felt beads of sweat trickle down her forehead. Thank god she had quick reflexes. As she looked at Elliot, he breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes glimmering with gratitude.

"Fuck. That was close."

"We should go," Anastasia said sternly. "I don't want to save your ass a third time."

"It won't be necessary," a deep voice said.

The sudden, unfamiliar sound caused the pair to rise from the ground and spin around. Their eyes went wide with terror as they found themselves staring down the barrel of a gun. The metal ominously glinted in the sunlight, taunting as it pointed at them with unwavering force.

Anastasia felt a lump form in her throat as she took in the scene. Her hands instinctively went to her waist, trying to grab her weapon from its case, but then she remembered it was tucked away inside her backpack. Damn her stupidity for being so careless. As she raised her arms, Elliot's eyes darted around the place, looking for any means of an immediate escape route, but they were trapped.

"Who are you?" Anastasia asked, trying to sound confident despite the fear that crept up on her. It felt like she was in the warehouse again, reliving her worst nightmare.

The person holding the gun didn't say anything, only stepped closer. Anastasia could see their face now, a woman with piercing blue eyes and long, dark hair. Her bone structure seemed sharp and masculine against her pink-stained cheeks. She was dressed in black, with a bandana covering the lower half of her jowl.

"Listen, we didn't mean to intrude," Elliot jotted, his voice shaky. "We were just passing through."

The woman chuckled, sending shivers down Anastasia's spine. "Isn't everyone just passing through these days?" She sounded cold and distant. She gestured with the gun, "What do you have in your bags?"

The pair exchanged a glance, unsure of what to do next. They didn't have much, only three boxes of ammunition, a few cans of food and water. But they knew in a world like this, even that could mean the difference between life and death. And giving that up would mean they'd have to start all over.

"Alright," Elliot replied. "If you let this slide, you'll never hear from us again."

"Do you think I'm that stupid, pretty boy?"

"No," Anastasia countered. "But we could make a deal. We will give you whatever you want in exchange for our freedom."

"So you could come back to tail us? I know how this goes."

The air was thick with anticipation, and Anastasia could feel her heart racing. She knew they had stumbled into something dangerous, but she was determined to find a way out. She took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice.

"We don't want to follow you. We just want to go our separate ways," she said, hoping to convince the woman.

The woman studied them for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke. "Fine. Give me your bags, and I'll let you go."

Anastasia and Elliot shared another glance, silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation. It can't be this easy. With a resigned expression, they reluctantly began to hand over their supplies, their hands shaking slightly. As the last item was taken, the woman dropped the backpacks to the ground with a heavy thud. She then retrieved a pair of blindfolds from her pocket and flung them towards the duo with a flick of her wrist.

"Put these on."

Anastasia felt her veins freeze with icy trepidation. She gasped in sync with Elliot as the latter clenched his fists in anger and frustration.

"What the fuck?!"

"You said you'd let us go!"

"Sorry, lovebirds. Can't risk it."

"We gave you everything! You can't—"

"Stop talking!" the woman interrupted, rolling her eyes as they tried to reason with her. "You're coming with me. End of discussion."

Anastasia felt a tight clutch, a pang of hopelessness in her heart. How could they have let their guard down so easily? With the weapon aimed at them, they didn't have a choice. She put on the blindfold and started walking, her footsteps heavy with defeat. As they followed the instructions, her mind raced with questions. What will happen to them? Are the others safe?

If given the chance to escape, would Elliot save her?

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1. ⠀ AUTHOR'S NOTE.

First of all, I wanted to say thank you so much for your wonderful support! It means the world to see that you like this story, to which I'll be eternally grateful. 

I would also like to apologise if some things don't make sense or some dialogues and scenes come off as weird, incorrect. I'm not a professional writer and still have a lot of space to learn and grow, so please leave your thoughts below! Let me know if you enjoy the book or you think there are some parts that'd need adjusting! Heck, PM me even. I will appreciate any and all tips. 

By the way, if you feel the story has too many action scenes, let me reassure you that it will calm down a bit very soon. It's just the first few chapters where Ana has to settle in with the crew and manage her way through the unknown. I promise it will get easier, with a bit of romance too. ♡