Chapter Text
The whispers seemed to pass through the corridors, creep across the walls, and crawl underneath my skin. It didn’t feel right - what’s going on?
The words were muffled, yet I could not ignore the sense of urgency. It made me writhe under the sheets. The sirens of reason kept blaring in my mind, telling me to be more logical.
But when have I ever fucking listened to myself?
I finally pulled the damn sheets off. Bare feet stuck to the cold floor as I stood up, my breath held in my chest. As silent as a shadow, I weaved through neighbouring bunk beds, and walked towards the door.
Biting my lip, I grabbed a hold of the door knob, cool against my skin. I turned it ever so slightly, letting the door crack open.
There was nothing but darkness outside. Pressing myself next to the door frame, I closed my eyes shut; the whispers grew steadily more audible. There were people outside, alright; two in total, both male - and both tensed.
“There’s no way I’m going,” one said. “Not like this, not like this.”
Holding my breath once more, I strained to listen:
“We have to,” the other man stressed, “You’re overreacting-”
“Don’t fucking play that card - you know what they’re like. You know what they’re capable of.”
“There’s nothing we can do-”
“No,” he hissed back. “I’d rather be eaten alive by zombies than go back there again - not after what they did.”
The silence felt like still daggers, and they slashed through the tension as the other man continued, his tone more calm:
“I can’t say you’re wrong. But we’ve got no choice - we signed up for this. Don’t you remember? All in or nothing.”
A pause. A second of consensus must have passed between the two, for the venom in his voice was gone:
“All in or nothing,” he sighed.
After grunts of affirmation, footsteps began to make the floor vibrate. One step, two steps, three more… and they finally receded. All was silent.
But my mind was anything but. Their spiteful tones, their frustrated whispers, it all made one fact concrete: their anger ran bone deep. But what did the strangers’ anger burn for?
Could I even call them strangers? For all I knew, it could have been anyone - anyone I’ve seen, anyone I’ve talked to, anyone I’ve befriended. To think someone could harbour so much hatred, and yet hide it away from everyone so well - it made my skin crawl.
I let out a deep sigh, letting my chest deflate ever so slowly. The clock over my head struck one.
I shivered. Something told me I should not have heard that conversation.
The streets were completely empty. No signs of life - human or undead.
That was a relief. The darkness was a great place to hide in - but it often got dangerously comfortable. When you got too used to the dark, even the sun felt like the enemy.
Even now, I had to sprint down the road, trying to outrun the rays of sunlight. Every echoing step of mine made me run faster, made me glance behind my back: afraid that someone - or something - were following me.
I stopped only once I reached my destination - a local sandwich shop.
I assumed the door had been ripped from the hinges, because it wasn’t even there. Broken shards of glass crackled beneath my feet. Inside, the tables were overturned, and the wallpapers were all scratched up and scorched to pieces.
I might have felt pity for the store owner; for the people who had dropped by to get a lunch or a light snack, only to get a death wish nobody wanted. But the remorse never reached my heart - because I saw something.
At the farthest end, stood a refrigerator, standing with its tube lights flickering, barely alive at this point. It’s door was slightly ajar, and inside, I could see it - food.
I jumped over the counter, and wrenched the door open. Grabbing the nearest packet - a bag of crackers, it looked like - I tore it open with brute force. A chemically smell came as soon as I did, but I didn’t care. It had been two weeks since the last time I had eaten anything.
I had scoffed the entire thing down my throat, when I saw something flash in my peripheral vision. Looking to my upper left, I saw a tiny television screen tucked into the corner of the shop, flickering over what seemed to be the news.
Could it be…?
I stumbled up, climbing on the counter surface to turn up the volume. The screen was almost completely indecipherable, but squinting through the static, I could see the silhouette of a man, hunched over a table. Then came his voice:
“My fellow citizens. This is not a drill. With the deepest regrets, I am to inform you that the city of Trost has fallen under attack by unidentified biochemical lifeforms. Do not hesitate to reach for the closest shelter you can find. Keep your loved ones close, and remember not to be afraid. I know deep within my heart of hearts, that the citizens of Trost are made of steel - you stare at the face of fear. Know that you are invincible, and that you are not alone."
I staggered back, shoulders drooping down. The Prime Minister of Trost - his last speech before he fled.
The one glimmer of hope of a possible rescue mission that lit my chest spluttered away as soon as it came. I couldn’t bring it back. I couldn’t even bring back the fire that burned with rage: at the government for leaving us people stranded while they saved their asses; at the Prime Minister, who had the audacity to tell the people to be brave, when they were the ones who had to die with their loved ones;
At myself, for being the one to survive, while others perished.
Stepping down from the counter, I sat on the only stool that had not toppled over. The bright sunlight had now faded to a dull orange behind my back. But for the longest time, I just stared at the packet in my hands. It took every bit of willpower in me to take another bite, to eat, to stay alive - not when there were other people who deserved to live.
And yet, one look towards the floor was all it took: marbled tiles that were once white, now smeared with red and black - blood of the human and the undead.
I’d rather die trying to survive than face them again.
I’d rather die trying to survive than face them again.
I’d rather die-
“Hey, Marco!”
I woke up with my breath caught in my chest, a scream trapped in my throat - and the dorm room drenched in red.
What’s happening?
I blinked the sweat out of my eyes, to find Jean sitting on the edge of my bed. All the other cadets were awake - and they were leaving.
“Marco, get up, we have to get going,” he said, shaking my shoulder gently. His voice was tight.
I grabbed his forearm, refusing to let go. “Wait- tell me what happened.”
And then, came the blaring siren.
*
“At ease, cadets!”
Commander Erwin did not even pause for a heartbeat, and continued: “We have just received some grave news: exactly 17 minutes ago, there was another attack, not too far from here.”
The training room fell into a swarm of whispers, yet the Commander’s sharp voice dimmed it out. “So far, the scale seems to be pretty small, but we choose not to overlook even the smallest of details - we don’t want another slip up, and so we’re taking measures straight away.”
Behind him, a screen flickered to life, revealing a dense network of lines, like a spider web spreading outwards. Sewage Works - Trost, it read. I recognised it immediately, but my heart dropped to my stomach as the screen zoomed out: a red cross marked one of the lines - the one leading straight to the Scientific Wing.
“This is the older layout of the ‘Sewage Works’, starting from the southern end of Trost,” Commander Erwin said, pacing the length of the stage. “Despite it having gone obsolete years ago, apparently the zombies still found some interest in it. We plan to find out why.”
Before the doubt could plague the rest of the cadets, Commander Levi spoke up: “We’ll keep it short and sweet: we’re sending an expedition to check how sound the area is. You all are to remain here until further notice. Remember, the situation is still volatile. So stay vigilant, stay prepared - am I understood?”
Stomping feet and grunts of affirmation filled the air, yet I couldn’t feel any of the confidence I was accustomed to. There was no energy sparking in the air, no hunger of victory burning in anyone’s hearts - nothing. Nothing.
Before the uncertainty could settle in my bones, Officer Mike entered the scene.
Hands behind his back, he addressed all the recruits before they fell disorganised: “Annie Leonhardt, and Marco Bodt: report to the basement in exactly 15 minutes. You are to accompany Commander Levi in this expedition. The rest of you, you are to remain on standby until further notice. Dismissed!”
What?
Me on an expedition out into the open?
Me, having to face those zombies again?
Suddenly, the cadets swarming around me, their voices, their stares - it was too much. My bones felt like lead, and yet my fingers shook like feathers in the wind. What’s happening, what’s going on, why me, why me-
Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed mine. It pulled me through the crowd, stopping at the farthest end of the training room.
It was Jean. His hand was wrapped around mine tight, warmth cutting right through my cold skin. He looked at me carefully, hesitantly, afraid of undoing something disastrous without meaning to.
But he tilted his head, trying his best to help:
“Hey.”
“H-hey.”
“You hangin’ in there?”
I just stared at him, pitiful that I couldn’t even fucking respond. How could I tell him that revisiting ruins only opened up wounds I’ve tried to hide for years?
As if my silence were some cryptic message, Jean nodded slowly. He still hadn’t let go of my hand; in fact, he raised it up, pried open my palm, and placed a piece of fabric inside.
Once he let go, I held the cloth up to my face, squinting at it. When I noticed a bone-white smile peak through the blackness, I gasped.
“This is-”
“-my mask, yeah.”
Shaking my head, I looked up. “But- but this is yours.” How could I accept it?
“I know - it is,” Jean said, raising his eyebrows. He placed his hands on his hips, saying, “But I want you to have it - just for this expedition.”
My breaths grew shorter. There was nothing but white noise filling my head.
“I’m sorry, I- I can’t take this,” I said. How could I deserve it?
“Oh c’mon, it doesn’t smell that bad.”
“Jean, that’s not the point-”
“The point is simple, Marco: you’re going on an expedition, and I want you to wear this. Just ‘cause the sewers are old doesn’t mean you won’t find something rotten in there. I’d rather you not inhale some toxic shit.”
I was impervious to even the simplest of logic, and I hated it. Me holding something of his - something of importance - it felt so wrong. As if I were committing a felony, a crime. A kind of twisted guilt, the same guilt I had known for five years, weighed over my hands.
I still shook my head, rambling on in denial: “I get it, but- but I know this means something to you. What if I end up losing it? What if I misplace it, or- or it gets torn off… What if something bad happens down there, and I- I can’t return it to you?”
And then, Jean smiled. “Who says you’re not coming back?”
All the white noise vanished.
He took the cloth from my hand, and opened it up. After glancing at the bony smile, he looked up. The edges of his amber eyes crinkled ever so slightly. “You’re gonna come back, and you’ll return it with your own two hands. And I know it means something to me… That’s all the reason I need to trust you with it.”
He then held the elastic bands in either hand, and moved closer. Delicately, he stuck them behind my ears, making sure my hair were out of the way. He pulled the cloth down my chin and over my lips. The tips of his fingers were calloused, but they were so warm.
And now it was I who wore the mask, with the infamous teeth of the undead plastered over my lips. I couldn’t tell how deathly did I look, and I didn’t care. All I could see was Jean standing a few centimetres away from me, grinning proudly.
He still hadn’t moved away, and he looked at me as if I were a masterpiece. “And just as I suspected - this really suits you.”
Standing there felt hypnotic; though his mouth spoke satirically, his eyes said something entirely different. You will come back, they seemed to preach. You will win.
I think I believed it.
*
My footsteps echoed as I stepped into the barely lit basement. Combat vehicles of all kinds were hidden in the dark; huge Commodities’ Trucks stood tall and proud, while a dozen or so fighter wagons were grouped in soldier-like ranks, with heavy-duty guns fixed to their roofs. Glancing to my left, I even spotted our sleek bikes; perhaps they were the same we used on our last mission, all battered and bruised.
Ten feet ahead of me, stood one lone vehicle, awash underneath four ceiling lights. It looked almost like a fighter wagon - but not entirely. This vehicle was smaller, but was built like a war-machine; it was made of a thicker metal, the kind you’d expect tanks to be made of. There were not one, but two machine-guns on top of the hood, with their noses bent down, graceful yet brutal.
Just then, I heard footsteps approach behind me.
I turned around, to find Annie Leonhardt entering the scene. Adorned in the regular black combat attire and the Survey Corps cloak, she exuded nothing but steely conviction, a kind of presence that made everyone fall silent.
I fought the chill, however. “Oh, hey Annie! Didn’t see you there.”
She didn’t respond, only nodded at me in acknowledgement. Instead, she walked right past me.
I coughed awkwardly, jogging my way up to meet her footsteps. Once by her side, I asked, “So, is this your first expedition too?”
Without a moment’s pause, she replied, “Sixth.”
That made me gulp. God, I’m definitely the newbie, huh?
I resisted the urge to wipe the sweat off my brow. Instead, I tried to relieve the tension in the air. “Ah, that’s terrific. I bet you’ve got the whole expedition routine memorised by the book.”
Again, within a heartbeat, she spoke back, “Not really.”
Snapping her sharp, icy gaze at me, she continued, “With everything that’s been going on, do you ever expected anything to go ‘as planned’”?
Though her words sounded sarcastic, they unsettled me all the same. There really was no way I could hold a conversation with her.
As we approached the beast upfront, my footsteps slowed down as if they had a mind of their own. Glaring white light bounced off its grey hood, revealing ominous scratches. One good look was all it took to recognise those claw marks, digging gashes into the seemingly indestructible surface. It could have been a single zombie, or a hundred.
Just then, I heard a voice, sharp like a whip:
“Cadets! We don’t have all day!”
I jumped, though Annie was unfazed. Quickening my pace, I made it to the wagon’s rear, where I saw Commander Levi huddled in with five other people. Four of them were guards, and one was a familiar Petra Ral. She noticed me enter, and waved a friendly hand at me. I smiled back.
It soured as soon as it came when Commander Levi stared at me coldly. “It’s about time you guys showed up. I assume you’ve got your essentials with you?”
Annie patted the dagger hanging at her hip. I placed my hand on the leather strap slung across my chest. I tugged it twice, feeling the weight of my axe across my back.
But the Commander was still not satisfied; he raised an eyebrow, observing me carefully. “An axe, huh?”
I felt my face flush at his mockery, but Commander Levi was oblivious to it. He turned around, and leaned into the wagon’s back. He extracted two assault weapons as long as my torso, holding them up to the light.
“You’re both gonna have to be a bit better equipped for the job,” he said, as he threw one at me.
Annie caught hers expertly, of course. I caught mine with the grace of a flailing fish - but I grabbed it all the same.
It looked nothing like a regular assault rifle; it was slimmer, and heavier than what we were used to. It’s stock and hand-guard were scratched up from one expedition to the next, but what really stood out was the rifle scope perched on top. It’s lens was as thick as it’s barrel, and ran for about half its length. It was unlike anything I had ever seen.
“This is what an expedition really needs, besides your choice of weapon. It’s lens lets you see up to 200 meters; that, coupled with the torch - you can’t miss a single zombie.”
I almost missed the torch completely; it was a thin cylinder, nestled right below the barrel. I tried putting its power to the test. Turning around, I pointed the mouth of the gun in complete darkness, and clicked it on.
All of a sudden, a beam of light shot right through, illuminating the farthest end of the basement. It must have been at least a 100 yards. I was at a loss for words.
“Now that the talent show is over,” said Commander Levi, interrupting my dazed state, “It’s time for the main event.”
*
Our mission was simple in essence: go to the attack site, study the area, and further analyse a radius of 100 meters. We were to bring in as many observations as possible, so that our next move could be better planned. With a small GPS strapped to our wrists, our stock of weapons, and the black cape of the Survey Corps over our shoulders, we were off.
The city of Trost was the same as it had always been for the past five years: cold, grey, and utterly silent. Neither did the morning clouds shift, nor did the wind stir. Everything was covered in a fine mist, the cold clinging to our skin. Even though we zoomed past those same tall, looming buildings, it seemed as if the world had stopped spinning.
Regardless, we sped on. One guard drove the fighter wagon, while another sat next to him, with his weapon in hand. The other two stood at the edge of the rear opening, on guard for any signs of zombie activity.
Petra sat across from me, going through the contents of her little suitcase: small test tubes, with even smaller droppers, a scalpel, and some cotton swabs. “We need all the information we can get - that includes any biological developments we might have missed,” she had explained to me, when I first saw her tug the box close to her chest.
Next to her, sat Annie, who had her face huddled beneath her cloak. Was it because of the cold, or was it because she just didn’t feel like socialising, I could not tell. All she was busy in was counting the bullets in her magazines, making sure she had no lack of protection. Her knuckles peeked through her sleeves, covered with splotches of green and purple. I hoped it was because of rigorous training. I pretended not to have noticed it.
Commander Levi sat beside me, staring out into the open. His fingers tracing patterns on his rifle hand-guard. His weapon was visibly shorter than ours, with a lot more scratches adorning it’s blackened barrel. One good look at it was enough to convince me that his weapon had seen a lot more zombies than I ever could.
I sat myself at the farthest end of the wagon, cloaked completely in the shadows. And even though I could feel the axe pressing against my shoulder blades, I couldn’t feel reassured. I pressed my legs against my chest, placing my chin on my knees. One look at Trost’s silent streets made my skin crawl. A part of me had no choice but to revisit ruins of a time that once was; another part of me wanted nothing more than to run away.
A sharp rapt to the wagon’s roof jolted me out of my state of reverie. The vehicle had stopped - we were here.
We all stepped outside, standing on land covered with morning fog. Though we could not see much of anything, anyone could have smelled the rust from miles away.
Commander Levi and two of our guards led the way, and the rest followed. Soon, we stood before a tall fence, with barbed wire wrapped around its top-most edge. Sure enough, the entire mesh was brown with age - but what really stood out was the gaping hole that had been ripped through its centre.
Two of the front guards inspected the area, to find no active traces of zombies. In response, Commander Levi instructed them to defend the fighter wagon, while the rest went onward, through the torn fence.
Beyond it, the land began sloping downwards, taking us deeper and deeper below. It took a solid ten minutes of the expedition team skidding down - until the floor levelled abruptly.
Before us, stood the opening of the Old Sewage System, it’s mouth reaching as high as 50 feet. The rim was worn with age, cracks and crevices running deep into the concrete edges. Sickly green algae fanned out from the sewer, creeping across the walls in thin, eerie tendrils. The mist hung above our heads like clouds on a rainy day; none of it reached down here.
Where the air over Trost was still, there was a steady breeze down here - coming straight from the sewer.
Petra covered her mouth with her cloak. “Damn. How come nobody ever talked about this…?”
“I guess the government always loved keeping secrets,” Commander Levi answered, his words laden with hidden malice.
I gulped dryly, the air making my throat itchy. The remaining guards, Petra, Annie and Commander Levi all proceeded to enter the tunnel, and I was the last. I had to ignore the way my legs shook, the way my hands sweat despite the frigid wind. Just when the strong smell was too much to bear - I suddenly remembered.
From my back pocket, I took out a black fabric. A skeleton smiled at me.
The words seemed to flow through my mind like water down a gentle stream: Who says you’re not coming back?
With one swift motion, I wore Jean’s mask, and went headfirst inside the tunnel.
*
Only fifteen minutes in, and darkness slowly began encapsulating us. Half an hour more, and Commander Levi’s ordered us to switch on our torches to look further ahead. As soon as we did, we saw a lot more than what we bargained for.
The floor was a mess of craters and half-dug holes. Their rugged edges glistened with moisture, but other than that, they were clean. From the bricked walls to the curved ceiling, everything was covered with a thin, wet film. Apart from the green and purple patches of strange-looking algae growing all over, there was no inky blackness. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Before the silence in the air could get anymore suffocating, Annie spoke up from beside me: “This is the first time I’ve ever seen an attack site so… clean.”
She might have said that to no one in particular, but I found myself shaking my head at her comment. No, that’s not it. That’s never it.
“The zombies here have always been… different.”
Everyone stopped in their tracks. Even Commander Levi turned around, only to raise an eyebrow.
“Different? How so?”
I bit my lip hard, but refused to let my stare waver. “The zombies down here… they live in different conditions, right? Meaning they adapt - and evolve - differently. They’re slower, and a lot more... unpredictable.”
“Has any zombie ever been predictable before?” said one of the guards from behind me.
If only it were that easy. I still shook my head, pulling the mask down to my chin. “I- I could be wrong, but the ones I’ve seen, they’re- they’re nothing like what we’ve seen before.”
Deep breaths, Marco. Deep breaths.
The silence that ensued later made my skin crawl. Petra clutched onto her equipment for dear life, worry lines marking her forehead. Even Annie stared in disbelief.
But Commander Levi finally spoke up next: “All the more reason to keep our eyes peeled.”
It felt like hours of just walking; there was no telling how long we had been down there. Our world was secluded to one single lane, and the only way to go was forward.
The tunnel began to slope down ever so slowly, leading us deeper and deeper underground. The air steadily grew heavier, as if it were weighing down on us. The heat from the walls made it harder to breathe, but we had no choice. Even though Commander Levi’s own skin glistened with sweat, he was in no mood to stop. Nobody was.
And nobody did - not until we reached the attack site.
Catastrophe loomed over us: an avalanche of stone and fine debris towered over us, completely blocking our path. Apart from the chaos of grimy rocks and broken concrete choking the only path we could walk through, there was nothing - no fire, no smoke, and certainly no sign of any undead.
Before we could take another step forward, a pungent odour blew over all of us. This time, even Commander Levi couldn’t resist; he swore, covering his nose with his cloak.
“Fuck - what the hell is that?”
Petra’s voice was muffled behind her own hands, as she answered, “That’s definitely hydrogen sulphide - but I don’t get it… why is it so strong here?”
“Maybe it’s just the sewer gas around this place,” suggested Annie, guarding our rear end.
“That can’t be,” I said, pulling the mask over my nose. “If it were just sewer gas, we should have smelled it hours ago, right? Not just here.”
“Exactly,” said Petra, “Besides, sewer gas isn’t just hydrogen sulphide. This is just strange…"
“I think we’ve got our answer here.”
It was Commander Levi. Two of the guards hovered next to him, shedding light over his shoulder. While Annie kept guarding our backs, I and Petra made our way towards the commander.
He crouched low, inspecting the bigger boulders at the base of the avalanche. Petra crouched next to the Commander, looking at the ruins herself. After a moment’s silence, she gasped. “That’s-”
“Scorch marks - they’re everywhere.”
Sure enough, blackened soot covered parts of the larger rocks, sprayed so thin I almost missed them entirely. I didn’t know what I wanted to believe: could the zombies break through walls, or did they finally learn how to set off sophisticated explosions?
What broke my train of thought was Commander Levi’s announcement: “Let’s rest for five minutes.”
Dusting his hands and knees, he got up, and ordered for the guards to report to HQ-2 regarding their positions so far. Petra immediately set to collect some samples; she pulled out her scalpel, and began scraping some of the soot into thin test tubes. Annie came up to us, and together we shed some light over Petra’s work.
The sounds of metal striking smooth stone rang in the air. As we stood longer, I let my gaze wander: I glanced at the entrance, now just a speck of white against darkness; I stared at the walls, covered in grime and years of obsolescence. My eyes trailed up the ceiling, tracing the tendrils of algae curling through the concrete, vanishing beyond the blockage. But then, something caught my eyes.
Why were the shadows here so… solid?
I pointed my rifle up in the air - and just as I suspected, there were even darker tracks of soot covering the whole curve of the ceiling. The burn marks were so dark, the entire rim was pitch black. I swore under my breath - who knows what lays beyond the wreckage?
I let my torchlight trace the edges of the tunnel, blackened and rugged. From the ceiling, my eyes travelled down, down, down - landing on the wall to my left.
I stepped closer. The wreckage here was thinner, and there seemed to be no soot anywhere. But it’s surface - it glistened black, smeared, as if someone were marking their territory. Biting my lip, I touched the stone ever so gently, and pulled my hand back. Surely, my fingertips were slick with pitch black zombie blood.
Before the taste of bile could reach my mouth, I wiped my hands against my cloak. Just as I did, though, something else caught my attention. Something small, something insignificant.
Squinting through the shadows, I pressed my hand against the pile of rubble embedded into the tunnel, stopping only once I felt some loose rocks. I kicked the surface once, twice - and then a chunk of concrete fell inside.
There was definitely something there.
Without hesitation, I lifted the butt of my rifle, and jammed it into the wall hard. The thuds echoed in the tunnel, making the walls vibrate with force. Within moments, I heard the Commander’s strict voice:
“Cadet! What do you think you’re doing?”
But all it took was two more strikes - and the debris fell apart.
“I think I found something,” I answered.
It was a sub-passage built inside the wall, opening up to another tunnel. It was narrower, filthier, and impossibly darker.
Nonetheless, I turned around, to find everyone staring at me. I looked at the Commander. “So what do we do now?”
The Commander ducked next to me, shining a light through the passage. Thankfully, it was empty for miles on end.
He replied without a moment’s hesitation:
“I think it’s pretty obvious: we go deeper.”
*
As soon as we stepped in, we realised how this passage was a lot steeper than the main tunnel. Annie was the last one to enter, while the other two guards remained at the blockage, keeping an eye out for us.
Our feet skidded across the floor, slippery with algae and slime. But with sure footing, we managed to reach the end of the path: another larger tunnel, much like the one we walked through a few moments ago.
Standing in the middle, I looked around. This must be yet another tributary of this monstrous sewage system, I thought. Wiping the sweat off of my brow, I looked at the walls. Apart from green tendrils and worn off chunks of concrete, everything was strangely clean. Once again, there was no sign of black.
Suddenly, a rumble ran through us.
It was a deep hum that rang through the walls, and made the floor vibrate. It couldn’t have been a growl of a zombie, or the shrieks of the undead - but it didn’t sound natural at all.
And the Commander knew that as well. He gathered everyone close, and gave us orders immediately:
“We can’t afford to stay here any longer, so let’s make this quick; Petra and Annie, you two will go to the right side - Marco and I to the left. If you don’t see, smell or hear anything out of the ordinary within 2 miles, you regroup here immediately. Do I make myself clear?”
With grunts of affirmations, we were on our way. It was hard not to feel uneasy, despite how simple the mission was; I couldn’t help but stare on, as Annie and Petra took the first steps into the darkness.
But as if her motherly instincts kicked in, Petra turned around, and met my gaze. Even in the darkness, I could see her warm eyes, and her friendly smile. She threw me a thumbs-up. It’ll be okay.
I found myself smiling back - even when the two women dissolved into the shadows.
“As much as I’d love for us to huddle and sing some ‘Kumbaya’, I suggest we get a move on.”
Despite the sarcasm in his words, Commander Levi’s tone made my face warm. Coughing awkwardly, I turned around, careful not to meet his eyes, and followed him deeper into the tunnel.
-
Our trek might have lasted for an eternity.
And even so, there seemed to be no end. Every step we took just led us deeper down a path that never changed: ominously clear walls, floor dotted with droplets of condensation glimmering beneath our torchlight, silence that clung too close, and darkness that never lurked too far away. There seemed to be nothing else.
I couldn’t tell whether that was a good thing or not.
In any case, I pressed on silently, following the Commander’s lead. He seemed to be calm and collected as always, despite the circumstances, with a stance that never betrayed a single weak spot. Even in the darkness, he showed a grace nobody could ever possess.
Venturing deeper into the tunnel, we still saw nothing out of the ordinary. There was no detour blocking our path, no sub-passage embedded into the walls, not even a sign of any wreckage. Hell, even the floor’s not sloping, I noticed. What are we even chasing at this point? The darkness?
I glanced at my tracker, and let out a sigh of relief: there were only two green spots on the path we walked on, with no signs of red.
Tentatively, I spoke up: “Commander, there seems to be no sign of any zombie for another mile. May we call the coast clear?”
Commander Levi did not stop. With his back towards me, he said, “Already wanting quits?”
No matter how much his words stung, I pressed on. “No, of course not - I just don’t think we should leave our comrades behind for so long.”
“You sound as if you don’t trust them.”
I resisted the urge to stop in my tracks. “I don’t understand, Commander.”
“I’ll say it again: you sound as if you don’t trust our comrades that they’ll survive.”
“That’s not the case-”
“I wouldn’t have brought along anyone if I’d thought they wouldn’t make it alive,” said the Commander, refusing to meet eyes with me. There was contempt hidden in his words, as he continued, “As a cadet, it’s your duty to trust them, even when they’re not with you.”
I swallowed thickly, pulling my mask below my chin. “I-I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”
Finally, Commander Levi turned around, glancing at me with steely eyes. “I don’t know what it was like to be on your own - but here, things are different. Here, we trust our cadets that they’ll survive. We’re the last of humanity left - it’s all we can do.”
Trust. The word rolled around in my mind, settling like dust over me - haunting, yet meaningless. I didn’t know what something like trust could feel like. All that it reminded me of were amber eyes.
Before either of us could take another step forward, the tunnel rumbled once more.
But this time, it wasn’t a metallic hum. It was a hellish scream.
A cry for help, a shout of pain, a shriek filled with terror - it was inhumane, it was terrible, torturous, it was so fucking unbearable-
I clasped my hands over my ears, gritting my teeth in pain. Commander Levi did the same, though not once did he let his stance falter.
“Stand by, cadet!” he shouted, with his rifle raised in position. Helpless, I did the same; together, we aimed for sheer darkness.
The scream never ceased. It suddenly changed.
It was loud, grotesque, terrifying to the core - but it was not the same. It was not the same. It was not the same-
Through the noise, I heard the words:
“Marco, run!”
My blood ran cold.
Mom?