I'm inside the closet, hiding from them. I hear the clicking sound of a lighter. My partner, he's outside. He's trying to ignite the lighter to make a fire, to protect himself from them. I hear that sound. The dark ones closing in, the wind moving slowly, the eerie breathing sound of them. It's like a human gasping for air in their last moments of death. The clicking sound starts to come faster, more aggressive .CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!... He's scared, I can tell. He's saying while frantically clicking the lighter "Oh, come on! Come on!... Not now, Please... Please..." I was lucky to get inside the closet before he did. He didn't saw me entering. I can't talk to him. If I make a sound, they'll get me too. If they got me, they'd gut me alive. He's crying now... "Don't do this to me," he says, still clicking. The sound of death, the dark ones. it's getting closer and closer. I hear something fall. They're inside the room. "NO!" he shouts. One final click, and the lighter ignites. The sudden roar of fire halts their approach. That's how I know the flame lit. "Oh, thank God," he says, his voice cracking in fear. He survived.
"Back off!" he yells What is he doing? I ask myself. I hear the fire whooshing, and then a few footsteps. Is he moving forward? "Yeah! Back off!" he says again. He's definitely moving forward. He steps outside the room, I think. Wait! something else enters the room Oh no... it's one of them. That horrible breathing sound. How? It's getting closer. Is it coming toward me? No, there's no way they know I'm here. They can't sense humans. "AHHHH!!!" He screams. They got him from behind. I hear the sickening crack of bones and his screams growing louder. He's done. Oh no. It's going to be fine. I'll be fine. I whisper to myself, trying to stay calm. The screaming stops... but not the cracking. What the hell are they doing to him? I cover my ears and close my eyes.
I hear a bird chirping. They never attack other species, only humans. That's a good thing. I open the door and step outside. The silence in the room is terrifying, and I don't understand why. Maybe because I'm scared of what I'm going to see next. I walk out of the room, and there it is the worst thing a human could ever experience. My partner, Randy, is lying on the ground in front of the door. What's left of him, anyway. It's barely a body, more of a corpse. His head and chest are missing. I still don't understand why they only eat those parts of the body. I've never seen them do it, it always happens in the darkness. I don't know exactly how it works, so I just say they "eat" it.
I head downstairs. This house is a mansion. I heard a famous celebrity used to live here, but I don't remember her name. That's why they sent us here to check it out, to find more supplies. I hear a squelching sound. It's my radio. I dropped it when I came in. I run to it. "Arvi! Arvi! Can you hear me? Are you there?" Marlon's voice crackles through the static. I pick up the radio. "Hello! Arvid, are you OK? What happened?" he asks, his voice worried. "They got Randy. He's gone," I tell him. I remember telling Randy we were running late before we entered the house. "Goddammit!" Marlon curses. Silence hangs between us for a few seconds. Then he asks, "Did you check the house?" Right. The big thing that matters. I almost forgot. "Not yet, but it seems pretty empty," I reply. "So you're saying…?" Marlon starts to say, but at the same time, I hear something drop and a strange voice muttering from somewhere inside the house. I look behind me immediately, barely hearing what Marlon said. "I heard something... inside the house," I say quickly, confused. "What is it?" he asks."Hold on," I reply.
I start walking toward the sound. I think it came from a room inside the house. I don't know why I'm so sure, but I just know. I walk down the corridor and open the door to the master bedroom. This place must have been luxurious once, but now it's covered in dust. I move closer to the bed. There's nothing unusual, but I'm sure the sound came from here. I search the room for a little while, and then I notice something small footprints in the dust. They disappear when they reach the rug. Oh, I get it now. I pull the rug aside, revealing a door on the floor. Someone's been living here. I take out my knife, bend down, and open the door. The thing is, I'm not scared. I'm excited. I don't know why I feel this way. Maybe it's because of everything I've been through. This? This is nothing.
It's a hidden room inside the house. I think it's normal for a place like this to have a secret space. It's dark, so I pull out my flashlight knife in my left hand, flashlight in my right. I sweep the light around the room. It's mostly empty: some sheets, a few toys scattered on the ground, and an old couch. Nothing seems important at first glance. As I turn the flashlight to the right, I see some food cans on the floor. Someone's been living here. Then, I hear footsteps. "Who's there?" I shout, pointing the flashlight toward the sound. I raise my knife and immediately start walking toward the noise. There's a curtain. I pull it aside and step in.
"Stay back! Please, please don't hurt us!" A woman's voice trembles in the darkness. She's on the ground, holding two children close to her one on each side. They're clutching her, eyes wide with terror, as though I'm some kind of monster. I'm confused. My mind races with questions. But I'm calm, always calm. Still, I can see that they're scared of me. The woman keeps pleading, "Please, please! Leave us alone." She's petrified, and the children cling to her tightly. "Hey! Hey! It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," I say softly, lowering my voice to reassure them. Slowly, I tuck the knife back into my pocket, making sure they see it. "Look, Look." The woman stops begging, but she holds her children even closer, her eyes still full of fear. I crouch down in front of them, moving slowly. From my back pocket, I pull out some food I've been saving and hold it out to her. She stares at me, still frightened. "Come on, take it," I urge. After a moment, she hesitantly takes the food from my hand. "Who are you?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm Arvid," I reply. "And you?" "I'm Sandria," she says. I glance at the children. "Are they your kids?" I ask. "Yes," she says softly. She hands the food to the boy on her left, who immediately takes it. She tells him, "Take this and go to the other room, okay?" The children get up and leave the room. Once they're gone, she turns back to me, her voice filled with desperation. "You have to help me."
I say, "Okay," thinking she needs a place to stay. But that's not it. She slowly reveals a wound on the left side of her stomach an attack mark from the Dark Ones. If someone gets attacked by a Dark One, it takes over their body, turning them into bloodthirsty creatures, like zombies. I can see the infection spreading. I step back, fear taking hold of me. "Oh no," my voice trembles. "How did this happen?" I ask. "This happened because of you!" she snaps, but her tone is more sad than angry. She doesn't look like she truly blames me. Maybe the Dark Ones were outside when we arrived. Somehow, they attacked her too. Now, I don't know what to do. "I'm so sorry," I stammer, tears welling up. Her kids are going to lose their mother because of me. Damn it. What am I going to do? "Do you have more food?" she asks, and I don't understand why she's asking when she's so close to becoming a Red Eye. That's what we call them their eyes turn red after they transform. Maybe she's just thinking of her kids. I desperately want to help. "Yeah," I say quickly. "We have plenty of food. We have a camp nearby." Her eyes light up with a flicker of hope. "Can you take my kids?" she begs. "What about you?" I ask without thinking.
I glance at the wound again. Black lines are snaking across her chest, creeping toward her brain. Once it reaches her brain, it's over. She touches the wound, wincing in pain, and looks at me with pleading eyes. "I don't have much time. Get them out of here. Take care of them, please!" Tears run down her face. "Please, I'm begging you." I want to help. This is happening because of me. I'll do anything to take care of them. "It's okay," I say gently. "I'll take care of them." She calls for the children, and they enter the room. She asks me to wait outside for a moment. I step out, my heart heavy. A few minutes later, the kids come out, ready to go with me. She trusts me to protect them. I'm going to protect them like my own. I clear my head, pushing away the guilt. If I keep blaming myself, I won't be able to take care of them properly. I need to stay focused.
"Arvid!" she screams, her voice full of sorrow. I rush back into the room. She looks up at me, desperation in her eyes. "Don't leave me like this," she pleads. "I don't want to become one of them."What?" I whisper. "Kill me," she begs, fear consuming her. "I don't want to turn into one of them." Her black marks have reached her chin. She's almost gone. I quickly take the kids outside, put them in the car, and lock it. They sit quietly, behaving like they've been trained for this. Maybe they're used to loss. I don't know what she said to them to keep them so calm. I go back inside. She's still on the ground, breathing heavily, gasping for air. I pull out my knife and bring it to her throat, trembling. All I want is to end her suffering, but my hand shakes. I can't do it. I can't kill her. Tears stream down my face as she whispers, "Kill me." "I can't. I'm sorry," I choke out between sobs. "Please..." she murmurs weakly. Just then, her eyes turn red, and she screams, lunging at me. My hand moves on instinct, and I slit her throat.
I walk outside, covered in blood. The kids look at me through the car window, their big eyes wide with a mix of fear, sadness, and understanding. They know I ended their mother's suffering. I pick up my radio, stepping to the front of the car. I grab my radio and step in front of the car. "Marl! Are you there?" I say into it. "Arvi! Yeah, I'm here." He sounds like he's been waiting. "Did you find anything?" Before I can hold back, the words slip out. "I found two kids." I need to tell him, even though I know he won't take it well. "What? Are you serious?" His tone shifts to anger. Without a second thought, I ask, "Yeah! Can I bring them in?" He yells back, "Are you kidding me? NO!" I can't believe his reaction they're just kids. I understand the world we live in now, the apocalyptic reality, but shouldn't we protect the young? I'm only asking because I can't raise them alone; I'm only nineteen. "What? Why not?" I ask, frustration creeping into my voice. "We don't have enough space, and we're running out of food. We can't take more people," he replies, his voice cold."I know that, but they're just kids," I insist. "Arvi! Leave them. They'll survive the same way they have all this time," he says. I can't believe his words. I feel a rush of memories, thinking back to my last moments with their mother. Desperation fills me as I reply, "I can't. I made a promise to their mother. She died because of me." I'm blaming myself again. "What are you talking about?" he asks, confused. I take a breath and explain everything that happened.
After I explain to him what happened, he replies, "We can't take them, alright? It's not your fault, kid." He still refuses, and I understand it, but we don't have to be like this. I can't believe what we're becoming more monstrous than they are. "We all have to make sacrifices to live in this world," he says. I'm furious. "I can't do that!" I scream at him. I come up with a solution: "What about this? Take them in, and I'll leave the camp." I know I'm the one who took responsibility for them, but I can't take care of them alone. I'll just get them killed. If I leave and they take them in, I'll be fine with it. "Are you serious right now? We need you here," he says. I know that I'm the best soldier they've got. "Please, don't do this," I beg. He replies, "They're just kids. Nobody's going to miss them now." Oh my god, does he even have a heart? Why the hell is he saying stuff like this? I'm stuck in the middle. I can't leave, and I can't stay. I don't know what to say next, so I just say the only thing that comes to mind: "I promised her." "We're not taking them. That's it!" he says and shuts off the radio. How did people get this heartless? I ask myself.
I don't know what I'll do next. I get inside the car and sit in the driver's seat. I glance back they're huddled together, hugging each other while they cry. I turn my gaze to the front, noticing my hands are still covered in blood. I have no idea how I'm supposed to explain this. I start the car, pull onto the driveway, and head out. After driving a few miles, I spot them those red eyes, staring from the road ahead. They're waiting, not moving, watching us. I wonder if I can keep driving forward, if it'll be enough to keep them safe. They're scared, sad, and alone. The red eyes see the car and start charging toward us. And I do the only thing I can.
I drive the car into the camp, knowing Marlon told me not to bring the kids, but I have to try. Protecting these two has become my top priority. As I pull up in front of the camp a makeshift shelter under a bridge surrounded by our vehicles I feel everyone's eyes on me. We've chosen not to move into buildings; the towns are overrun by Red Eyes, who prowl for flesh during the day, while the Dark Ones hunt at night. Sometimes I wonder why we even fight to survive in this world; it almost feels easier to just give up. I stop the car, and as I step out, I see Marlon storming toward me, his face seething with anger. He glances at the kids in the backseat, and I brace myself for another argument. He stands right in front of me, breathing heavily, his glare piercing through me. I lower my head and murmur, "I had to." He pauses, looking back at the kids, and I notice his breathing start to calm. Surprisingly, he mutters, "It's alright." I glance back up at him, taken aback. Did something change in him? Maybe there's still a sliver of humanity left in us all. He takes a few steps back, his expression softened. "Meet me in ten minutes," he says. I know another discussion is coming, but I feel a strange sense of relief. Then I see Miranda, the oldest member of our camp, in her 60s, hurrying toward me. She's like a mother to me. I see that her face is filled with worry. Without a word, She pulls me and hugs me tightly, and i cling to her. letting myself feel the comfort for a moment. After a day like today, I really need it. She gently touches my cheek, asking, "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine," I reply, feeling a wave of calm settle over me. Her eyes drift to the kids in the back of the car. I glance back and then look at her, silently asking, "Can you?" With a warm smile, she nods. "Yes." She heads toward the kids as I walk over to Marlon's truck, preparing myself for whatever he has to say next.
I sit inside Marlon's truck, feeling the weight of his anger as he blames me for everything. His face hardens as he tells me that, if I want to keep the kids here, I'll have to bring more supplies back to camp or he'll throw them out. I'm backed into a corner, and I don't have any other choice but to nod and agree. But the truth gnaws at me: I don't know how I'm going to find food and supplies on my own. No one here will help me. They're all too afraid of what lurks outside. Inside the camp, we're all aware that our resources are drying up. We're fifteen people barely scraping by, but no one else wants to do anything about it. They'd rather hide under this bridge, safe in their own fear. The only one who ever offered to go out there with me "Randy"is gone now. No one even seems to care, not even me. Randy was just another guy trying to make things better, day by day. Rest in peace, Randy. I step out of the truck, scanning the camp's perimeter. Fire torches surround the area, casting their flickering shadows on the ground. The flames keep us safe by driving the Dark Ones back they can't stand even a single shadow of fire on their skin. A little light is all that keeps us alive here. During the day, we venture out to the nearby forest to gather logs to keep the fires going. It's the only way we can make it through the night. The Dark Ones rarely come close when they see the lighted area, and they linger in the shadows, biding their time, almost like they're reveling in their freedom once the sun sets. For now, the flames keep them away.
A soft guitar tune drifts over, and I catch the lyrics: *"I'll crush your heart with bare hands, Wanna know and feel something unreal. I'll walk another mile just to feel... What? With my hopeless dreams. When the darkness rises, Is there somewhere we can run to or hide? So I'll take a swing at you just to crush your heart. Can I know, is it painful when I touch your arm?"* It's Frank, my best friend. His words are cryptic, with a depth that feels almost like he's telling a story he's hiding beneath the surface. But every time I ask him, he dodges, leaving me to wonder what's buried in those lyrics. I approach, giving him a sarcastic smirk. "Why'd you start singing again?" He shoots back, "Oh, thank you for appreciating my work." I sit down beside him as he puts his guitar aside, and the weight of everything hits me. Supplies are running low, and I'm not sure how I'm going to pull off the next run alone. The uncertainty gnaws at me, but I'm ready to jump back into the unknown if it means keeping us going. Frank senses my tension, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You need to rest," he says gently. He's right, but I just keep staring at the ground. He pats my back, like he's trying to steady me. Sometimes, I wish he could come along on these missions. But he's unable to walk long distances, bound to the camp. "Hey, it'll be fine," he says, his voice soft but certain. I look at him, questioning. "What will be fine?" "Everything," he replies simply, reaching for his guitar. I know where this is going, and I stand up with a firm "No." He grins, positioning his guitar as if daring me to leave. "Yeah!" "NO," I say again, turning to walk away before his lyrics give me another headache. He's just trying to get me to rest,
I head over to Miranda's tent, where the kids are staying for the night. Inside, I can see the little boy is already fast asleep, his breathing calm and steady, while the girl is still wide awake, listening intently as Miranda reads softly to her. Miranda is the heart of this place, the kindest person I know. She's like a mother to all of us. I feel a small sense of relief seeing them safe and taken care of, even if it's just for tonight. As I make my way back to my own tent, exhaustion pulls at me, but my mind is racing. Problems feel like they're piling up around me, and even though there are fifteen people in this camp, I feel like I'm carrying this burden alone. Finally, I lay down, hoping sleep will give me some kind of peace, but the silence brings memories I've tried to bury. I pull out an old picture of my brother and me, taken before any of this started, and whisper to it, "I wish you were here, brother." He died saving me on the day everything went to hell. I was only ten, and we were running down the street, chaos everywhere. People were screaming, being pulled apart by Red Eyes, and then I tripped and broke my ankle. My brother didn't hesitate. He picked me up, carried me, his grip so strong I thought we could outrun anything. But then one of those things leapt out, and in a flash, he threw me to safety and was taken down in front of me. He looked at me through tears and mouthed, "Run." There were other words too, but I can't remember them. The rest of that memory is blocked, probably because I couldn't handle it. Laying back, I close my eyes, and for a moment, I pretend I'm back in that world, before everything went dark. "Good night," I murmur to myself. "May tomorrow be better."
Suddenly, I hear screams outside something is wrong. This isn't an ordinary cry; it's a terrified scream, full of panic. I hear the chaos of people running, and then, bang! A gunshot rings out. My heart races as I reach for the pistol beside me, the one I keep in my tent for emergencies. With shaking hands, I step outside. What I see feels like a nightmare. If this is a dream, I need to wake up now. Miranda, the woman who was like a mother to me, is biting into one of the campers. The camp has been overrun by the Red Eyes. I'm frozen, unable to process what's happening. Miranda turns and sees me. My breathing quickens, and fear tightens around my chest. She was the kindest person here, and now… she's one of them. She charges at me, and I know I can't let her suffer like this. My hand trembles as I raise the gun, my mind screaming in disbelief. I pull the trigger. The bullet goes right through her head. She drops to the ground. I look around, and behind me, more people are slowly turning into them. One is biting another. Total chaos. Then I see Marlon. He stumbles out of his truck, and what I see next is even worse the little boy that I found clinging to Marlon, biting into his neck. Oh my god. Why is this happening? Marlon grabs the boy, yanks him away, and throws him to the ground. He's holding a shotgun, and without hesitation, he aims it at the boy. A flash erupts from the barrel, and the boy's head shatters into pieces. Marlon looks at me, drenched in sweat, with small, desperate tears in his eyes. "You," he growls, his voice trembling with fury. "You brought them here." He's screaming now, every word slicing through me as I stand frozen in fear. Slowly, he raises the gun toward me. Oh no. He's going to shoot me. Bang! The shot goes off, and I dive to the right, scrambling behind a car for cover. Another shot rings out maybe he's aiming at someone else. But then I see them, lurking nearby, watching us with something that almost looks like joy. The dark ones. The only thing holding them back from total chaos is the fire surrounding us. Marlon is coming closer, and I don't have time to think. I pull out my gun, preparing to shoot, but just as I peek out from behind the car, I see that he's already turned. He charges toward me, and instinct takes over. I raise my gun and pull the trigger, hitting him in the head. He falls instantly. Everything is happening too fast to process. My mind is racing as I push forward, searching for my friend. Desperation claws at me, and I keep wondering, When will this suffering end? Then I find him, lying on the ground. One of them is hunched over him, tearing at his flesh. I run to him and collapse at his side. He's bleeding everywhere, his eyes wide with pain, unable to form a single word. His cries are raw, desperate. I can't save him there's nothing I can do. My hands tremble as I raise my gun, pointing it at his head. Hot tears sting my eyes, and I'm screaming, anger and grief surging through me. How did this happen? Why is this happening? Why? I glance ahead, mind spinning. What did I do to deserve this? Then, out of the tent, I see that little girl that I brought. One eye is red, her gaze wild as she spots me and lets out a scream, charging straight at me. My hands jerk, pointing the gun at her. I'm frozen, paralyzed by everything that's happened. First, it was Randy, then a mother, then Miranda, then… my best friend. In two days, I've lost everything everyone. I can barely breathe, barely think, as the girl gets closer. Frank starts to stir beside me, his skin paling. I know he's turning. The girl is running toward me, and my hands are shaking, my finger hovering over the trigger. Frank lets out a final scream, and I flinch, my grip unsteady. The girl jumps, lunging forward. I close my eyes.