Smoke still trailed in ribbons behind the truck as it bounced over the cracked, overgrown road. The blast from the underground bunker had faded into the horizon, a grim punctuation on the horror they'd barely escaped.
But it didn't feel like victory.
Not to Asher.
He sat in the truck's backseat with Mia asleep in his arms, her little fingers tangled in the fabric of his jacket. Her breath was steady, her body warm against his chest—but her lips still twitched with nightmares. Asher stroked her hair gently, his thoughts spinning.
He could still hear the whistle. The coach's whistle.
"Hey."
Ethan's voice pulled him out of the spiral.
"Breathe," Ethan said softly, his hand brushing Asher's knee. "You did the right thing."
"I know," Asher murmured. "But knowing it doesn't make it easier."
They fell into silence again. The kind that didn't need filling.
Jason rode shotgun beside Elara, who gripped the steering wheel like it might vanish. Her eyes never left the road. Behind them, in the bed of the truck, Malik, Sienna, Leo, Jordy, and Casey dozed in shifts, their weapons always within arm's reach.
The world had changed. There was no going back.
By afternoon, they reached the edge of the quarantine zone.
A rusted chain-link fence stretched across the road, its middle section torn open—either by survivors or something far worse. A scorched government sign barely hung from one post:
Z-RESTRICTED AREA. DO NOT ENTER. DEAD ZONE.
Beyond it, the forest thinned out and the terrain turned mountainous. In the distance, nestled in the hills, a military structure loomed—half-collapsed walls, watchtowers tilted, black flags fluttering. A former outpost.
Elara slowed the truck and turned back to the group.
"We need to make camp before we reach that facility," she said. "They've got motion detectors and heat scanners all around it."
Jason narrowed his eyes. "And inside?"
She hesitated. "We don't know. The last signal from that base was over a month ago. We assume it's abandoned—or overrun."
"Great," Jordy muttered. "Another death maze."
They set up camp in a tree-covered ridge, shielded from the road. Casey helped Leo build a small fire, while Malik and Sienna patrolled the perimeter with Jason.
Asher found a quiet patch under a broken tree, laying Mia gently onto a bed of pine needles. She clutched his hand even in sleep.
Ethan sat beside him, their shoulders brushing.
"You holding up?" he asked.
Asher exhaled. "I keep thinking about Ramirez. Not the monster. The coach. How he used to tell us to run toward the ball, not away. How he knew everyone's birthdays."
Ethan nodded. "He knew mine. Called me 'June-bug' for a year straight."
They shared a quiet laugh.
"Do you think he was really... still in there?" Asher asked.
Ethan looked at him. "I think whatever part of him survived... wanted to protect you. Until the virus made him forget."
They didn't say anything more. They didn't need to.
Later that evening, Elara gathered everyone around the fire.
She unrolled a worn canvas map and placed it on a flat rock.
"We're here," she said, pointing to the ridge. "This is the outpost—Fort Dinah. It was a military intelligence site before the collapse. My contact, Dr. Chen, was stationed there until the blackout."
"Is he still alive?" Sienna asked.
"If he is, he's the last person who knows how to end Project Dawn for good."
Jason folded his arms. "You sure about that?"
"Yes," Elara said. "He helped build the neural sync—the control interface. Dawn wasn't just a virus. It was programmable. Chen made it that way."
"Programmable?" Malik repeated. "You mean someone can control the infected?"
"Not all," she clarified. "But some. The more recent strains respond to frequencies—commands. That's how they kept the carriers docile on the train."
Jordy paled. "So someone could literally... train zombies?"
"Yes," she said grimly. "And someone is."
Night came like a curtain, sudden and dense.
Asher found sleep elusive. Mia lay curled between him and Ethan, her tiny form wrapped in Ethan's hoodie. The stars blinked through the trees above, but Asher's eyes kept drifting back toward the ruined base in the hills.
What would they find there?
He closed his eyes.
And woke to screams.
Gunfire tore through the night.
Flashes of light lit up the ridge as shadows burst into their camp. Infected. Half-charred, half-military. One of them wore a lieutenant's uniform, its name tag still visible—Carris.
Jason tackled the creature and drove a knife through its eye socket.
"DEFENSIVE FORMATION!" he shouted.
Casey dragged Leo behind a fallen log, her pistol barking in rhythm. Sienna screamed as another creature lunged—but Malik swung hard with a crowbar, splintering its skull.
Asher pulled Mia close, covering her head. "Stay down, starshine. Just stay down."
Ethan shoved two infected off Jordy, driving his bat into one's chest.
Then he saw it.
A shape behind the trees.
Not moving.
Not attacking.
Just… watching.
It wore a tattered lab coat.
And held something glowing in its hand.
"Elara!" Ethan shouted. "Someone's controlling them!"
Elara looked up from her rifle, saw the figure—and froze.
"Chen."
In the chaos, the figure disappeared into the woods.
Jason ordered a retreat, and the group fled down the ravine. They didn't stop until the fire and screams had faded behind them.
Only then did they take count.
Everyone alive.
Everyone… shaken.
Elara sat hard on a rock, eyes hollow.
"That was Chen," she said. "He's infected. But he remembered me."
Asher leaned on Ethan's shoulder, trembling.
"What's happening to us?" he asked.
Ethan looked at the sky.
"I think we're reaching the end."
By morning, they moved again, drawing closer to Fort Dinah.
The path was treacherous—muddy, broken by landslides. The closer they got, the more bones they found along the way. Not just human. Animals too. Burned. Torn.
The gate to the base had collapsed inward.
The walls were scorched. No guards.
No life.
But inside?
Tracks.
Fresh ones.
"Elara," Jason whispered. "You still think this place is empty?"
"No," she said. "But I still think we have to go in."
They entered in silence.
The main courtyard was filled with scorched vehicles and crushed fences. The control tower leaned at an angle, its windows shattered. A dead man sat slumped at the security console, a bullet hole in his temple.
Inside, the lights flickered. A humming sound vibrated through the walls.
The lab.
They followed it.
Past old barracks, through a hallway smeared with claw marks, to a steel door still sealed with biometric lock.
Elara pressed her palm to the reader.
It hissed open.
Inside was hell.
Hundreds of bodies hung from the ceiling—harnessed like meat in a freezer. Their faces still moved. Their mouths twitched.
They were alive.
Infected—but frozen mid-transformation.
Monitors surrounded them. Neural scans. Brainwaves. Command patterns.
A control center.
Chen's lab.
"Oh my god…" Sienna whispered.
"They've been testing them," Casey said. "Like livestock."
And at the center of it all—chained to a chair—was Chen.
Alive.
Barely.
One eye swollen shut. His lab coat soaked in blood. A remote in one hand.
"Welcome," he rasped.