Chapter 17 Nicoles POV
1260 Words
The second he says it—*On my mark*—everything inside me goes still.
Not calm.
Still.
The kind of still that comes right before violence.
I watch the tunnel entrance through the thin veil of fog, icy air biting at my lungs. The walkers in the clearing aren’t drifting anymore. They’re positioned. Front line staggered. Flanks slightly curved inward.
Defensive.
Rowan’s right.
They’re braced.
I shift my grip on the katana at my back, feeling the familiar weight anchor me. Seven years of steel and bone. Seven years of learning how to move without hesitation.
Rowan raises three fingers slowly.
The clearing feels like it’s holding its breath.
Two.
The fresher variant near the front twitches—head angling upward, nostrils flaring like it scents us even from this distance.
One.
Rowan drops his hand.
Jensen fires first—suppressed shot cracking through the fog. The round takes the front variant clean through the skull.
At the same second, Mara’s arrow sinks into another’s eye socket.
The formation shudders.
Not chaotic.
Reactive.
The outer ring shifts immediately, tightening around the tunnel mouth.
“Now,” I mutter.
Jensen lobs the first flash charge toward the entrance.
It detonates with a sharp concussive pop, white light flaring against concrete walls.
The walkers recoil—but they don’t scatter.
Instead—
A deep, vibrating rumble rolls from inside the tunnel.
Closer this time.
Command.
The entire front line surges forward at once.
Not random.
Directed.
“Left flank compressing!” Kade hisses.
“I see it,” Rowan answers, already adjusting position.
He doesn’t panic.
He pivots.
That’s leadership.
Walkers crash into the lower slope of the ridge, clawing upward. I move before they crest.
First one reaches the top—
My blade clears its sheath in one fluid motion.
Steel arcs.
Neck parts.
Body drops.
Second one lunges—
I pivot, drive the blade up under its jaw, twist, shove it backward into the one climbing behind it.
Momentum is everything.
Don’t let them establish footing.
Gunfire cracks behind me—controlled, disciplined. No spray. No waste.
But the tunnel—
The rumble deepens.
Then it steps into view.
It’s taller than the others.
Not because it grew.
Because it hasn’t decayed the same way.
Skin pulled tight but intact. Eyes not cloudy—focused.
Aware.
It doesn’t rush.
It observes.
Its head tilts slightly as it studies the ridge.
Studies us.
My stomach tightens.
“That’s it,” I say, not taking my eyes off it.
Rowan sees it too.
Our gazes flick to each other for half a second.
There’s no fear in his expression.
Only calculation.
“Draw it,” he says.
I nod once.
Then I move.
I break from the ridge deliberately, sliding down the right side slope just enough to put myself in clear view of the tunnel entrance.
“Nicole!” someone snaps behind me.
Ignore it.
The intact one’s eyes lock onto me instantly.
Good.
I wipe walker blood across my jacket, letting the scent carry stronger in the damp air.
Then I step forward into the clearing.
Alone.
Walkers lunge toward me from the side—two quick dispatches, clean cuts, minimal noise.
I keep my gaze on the intact one.
“Come on,” I murmur under my breath.
It doesn’t charge.
It studies.
Then—
It lets out a sharp, piercing howl.
Not random.
Specific.
The walkers shift.
Instead of overwhelming me directly, they begin angling outward—
Flanking.
It’s trying to encircle.
Smart.
I backstep, slicing through another reaching corpse.
Up on the ridge, Rowan fires—round clipping one of the flankers before it can close behind me.
He’s covering me.
Of course he is.
The intact one finally steps fully out of the tunnel.
Slow.
Deliberate.
It wants me to see it.
Wants control of the space.
I roll my shoulders once and plant my feet.
“You think you’re evolving?” I mutter.
It tilts its head again.
Then it moves.
Fast.
Faster than the others.
Not sprinting—but purposeful, coordinated strides that eat distance quickly.
My pulse spikes.
This is different.
This isn’t just a stronger walker.
This is something adapting.
It closes half the distance before I surge forward to meet it.
Better to intercept than be surrounded.
Steel flashes.
It dodges.
Dodges.
My blade slices air where its throat was a split second ago.
It counters—not with teeth first—
But with a grab.
Its hand clamps around my forearm with crushing force.
Not mindless.
Targeted.
I twist, slamming my knee into its midsection. No pain response.
Of course not.
Its grip tightens—
Then a shot rings out.
The bullet tears through its shoulder, jerking it sideways.
Rowan.
The distraction is enough.
I rip my arm free, pivot low, and s***h across the back of its knee.
The joint gives partially—but not fully.
It staggers, not falls.
Resilient.
Behind it, the walkers press closer, responding to its howl pattern.
We’re running out of compression time.
“Charges!” Rowan shouts.
Jensen scrambles toward the tunnel entrance.
The intact one hears it.
Its head snaps toward the movement.
Decision.
It chooses threat hierarchy.
It abandons me—
And lunges toward Jensen.
“No!” I bark, already moving.
Rowan fires again.
Misses the skull—too much movement.
The intact one barrels toward the tunnel mouth—
If it retreats inside, collapsing the entrance won’t matter.
It’ll dig out.
Or worse—
Find another exit.
I sprint.
Every muscle burning.
I launch myself forward, tackling it sideways just as it reaches Jensen.
We slam into the dirt hard.
It snarls—not a groan.
A snarl.
Its teeth snap inches from my face.
I jam my forearm against its throat, pushing back.
It’s stronger than me.
Barely.
But stronger.
Its other hand claws toward my neck—
And then Rowan is there.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He drives a blade—short combat knife—straight through the intact one’s eye socket.
Deep.
All the way to the hilt.
For a split second, everything freezes.
The intact one spasms violently beneath me.
Its grip slackens.
Its jaw hangs open.
Then—
Stillness.
True stillness.
Around us, the walkers falter.
Their formation fractures.
No howl follows.
No command.
Just scattered, mindless movement.
Rowan yanks the blade free and grabs my arm, hauling me upright.
“You good?” he demands.
I nod once, breath sharp in my lungs.
“Blow it!” he shouts.
The charges detonate at the tunnel entrance with a thunderous crack.
Concrete collapses inward, sealing the darkness behind a cloud of dust and debris.
The remaining walkers stumble aimlessly now, no coordination, no structure.
Just dead things again.
The team cleans them up quickly.
Efficient.
Controlled.
I stand there for a moment, chest heaving, staring at the intact body at my feet.
It looks almost human now.
Almost.
Rowan steps beside me.
For a second, neither of us speaks.
Then he says quietly,
“You drew it exactly like you said you would.”
I glance at him.
His jaw is tight.
Not anger.
Concern he hasn’t processed yet.
“You covered me,” I reply.
“Always.”
The word lands heavier than it should.
The fight came first.
It still does.
But standing there in the settling dust, surrounded by silence where command used to echo—
I realize something else.
We didn’t just survive that.
We worked together.
And that’s far more dangerous than attraction.
Because now—
I trust him.
- Writer
