chapter 4
798 Words
**Chapter 4: Blood and Betrayal**
Dawn came too soon.
Elena had barely slept, her ears straining for any sound beyond the walls—any sign that the infected had broken through. Beside her, Noah curled into a tight ball, his breathing shallow. She brushed a hand over his forehead, checking for fever out of habit. He stirred but didn’t wake.
*Good.* The less he saw of what came next, the better.
She packed quickly—a half-empty canteen, a rusted can opener, the last of their scavenged bandages. Her fingers lingered on the photo tucked into her pocket, the edges frayed from months of handling. Liam’s smile, Noah’s tiny hand gripping an ice cream cone. A lifetime ago.
A knock at the door.
Lena leaned against the frame, her shotgun slung across her back. “Ready to face the apocalypse?”
Elena forced a dry laugh. “Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.” Lena tossed her a small knife—sharper than the one Elena had been using. “Found this in the kitchen. Figured you’d put it to better use than I would.”
Elena tested the blade against her thumb. “Thanks.”
Lena’s smirk faded. “Look, about Jake’s story…”
“You don’t believe him.”
“I don’t believe in *anything* anymore.” Lena’s gaze flicked to Noah, still sleeping. “But if there’s even a chance…”
She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
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The courtyard was a flurry of motion. Survivors stuffed backpacks, tightened boot laces, checked weapons with grim efficiency. Marcus stood near the gate, barking orders.
“Stick to the alleys. No noise. If we’re spotted, we run. No heroics.” His eyes locked onto Elena as she approached. “You’re on point with me. Vasquez, rear guard. Jake—”
“I know the route,” Jake interrupted.
Marcus’s jaw twitched, but he nodded. “Then you’re with us.”
Noah clung to Elena’s side as the gate creaked open. The city beyond was eerily silent, the streets littered with bones and the husks of abandoned cars. The air smelled of rot and gasoline.
“Stay close,” Elena whispered to Noah. His fingers tightened around hers.
They moved in single file, sticking to the shadows. Every rustle of trash, every distant groan of metal set Elena’s nerves on edge. The infected were out there. Watching. Waiting.
Then—a sound.
A whimper.
Elena froze. Ahead, a child’s shoe lay in the middle of the street, tiny and broken.
Noah gasped. “Mom—”
“Quiet,” Marcus hissed.
But it was too late.
A figure lunged from a shattered storefront—not the slow, shambling corpse they were used to, but something *fast*. Its limbs twisted at unnatural angles, its mouth stretched in a silent scream.
Marcus fired. The bullet tore through its chest, but it didn’t stop.
Elena yanked Noah behind her as the thing slammed into Marcus, teeth snapping. Another gunshot—Lena, this time—and the creature’s skull exploded.
Silence.
Then, from every direction, answering shrieks.
“Run!” Marcus roared.
The group scattered. Elena grabbed Noah’s hand and sprinted, her lungs burning. Behind them, the infected poured into the street, their howls splitting the air.
A hand grabbed her arm—Jake. “This way!”
He dragged them into an alley, then through a broken window into a looted hardware store. Marcus and Lena followed, slamming the door shut just as the horde rushed past.
Noah trembled against Elena, his breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. She pulled him close, her own hands shaking.
“We lost the others,” Lena panted, peering through the boarded-up windows.
Marcus wiped blood from his brow—not his own. “They’re dead. Keep moving.”
Jake shook his head. “We can’t. Not yet. They’ll hear us.”
Elena’s stomach twisted. He was right. But staying meant sitting ducks.
Then she noticed it.
A backpack by the door. *Their* supplies. And Lena—edging toward it, her fingers twitching.
“What are you doing?” Elena asked slowly.
Lena’s eyes flashed. “What we should’ve done days ago.”
In one fluid motion, she snatched the pack and bolted for the back exit.
Marcus lunged, but she was faster. The door slammed behind her, the lock clicking into place.
“You *b***h*!” Marcus snarled, slamming his fist against the wood.
Jake cursed, rifling through the remaining supplies. “She took the food. The water.”
Elena’s blood ran cold. Noah’s tiny frame pressed against her, his voice barely a whisper.
“Mom… are we going to die?”
Outside, the infected howled.
And somewhere beneath the noise—a new sound.
*Radio static.*
**End of Chapter 4**
- Writer
