The silence that followed Mike's question was thick, heavy. Only the distant echo of zombie moans and groans broke the stillness of the second floor. Alex felt Mike's gaze on him, a mix of hope and distrust.
Why did this stranger know something about his children?
Mike watched Alex with squinted eyes, concern etched into his face, weathered by years of service as a firefighter.
"Listen, Mike," Alex began, his voice low but firm, as if he feared the volume might attract the creatures outside. "Earlier, as we were making our way through downtown, we saw a group fleeing a horde. They were surrounded; it looked like they had no way out. But a guy with a gun... he stayed behind. He started shooting like crazy, drawing all the zombies toward him. He was yelling something about 'go, go now'."
Alex paused, thinking how to explain the scene they had witnessed earlier.
"The rest escaped, carrying what I thought were looting bags. From a distance, that's what it looked like: people carrying stolen supplies in a panic. But now that you mention the kids and your comrades from District 2... those uniforms I saw on some of them match yours. And they weren't bags, were they? They were children. They were carrying them to protect them."
Mike stood motionless, his jaw clenched. Sarah, his wife, choked back a gasp, covering her mouth with a trembling hand. Leo, the cop, frowned, crossing his arms over his frayed bulletproof vest. Clara and Paul, the injured man, exchanged nervous glances from the corner where Paul lay propped against a pile of boxes, his leg wrapped in a makeshift bandage that was already beginning to stain with fresh red.
The silence stretched on, broken only by Paul's ragged breathing and the occasional groan of the building's structure.
"Are you sure?" Mike finally asked, his voice hoarse, tinged with disbelief. It wasn't an accusation, but there was an edge of skepticism, as if Alex were making up a story to comfort them. "Tell me exactly what you saw. What did they look like? How many?"
Alex rubbed his eyes, replaying the moment in his mind; the setting sun painting the streets a bloody orange, the stench of decay and smoke, the zombies shambling with that unrelenting slowness that characterized the virus. Before, he hadn't been able to make out what he was seeing due to the urgency of the moment, but now, with more calm, he remembered everything.
"There were about eight or nine in total escaping. Some in uniforms like yours, firefighters. A cop among them, guiding the children. The little ones weren't screaming; they were terrified, but the adults kept them quiet. The one who sacrificed himself... he was a cop, I think. Tall, with short hair. He kept shooting until the horde completely surrounded him. We saw him fall… It all happened very fast."
Sarah sobbed softly, clinging to Mike's arm. "Our children... are they safe? Did they look okay?" Her voice was a fragile thread, filled with tempting relief yet marred by the horror of the sacrifice.
"Yes, they looked unharmed," Alex confirmed, though the knot in his stomach told him nothing was ever certain in this hell. "But the one who stayed behind... he did it for them. For everyone."
Mike nodded slowly, processing. The relief for the children clashed with the guilt for the lost comrade, a conflict Alex could read in his glassy eyes.
"That cop was my friend… probably. Jim. Always the hero." His voice cracked a little, but he quickly recovered. "Tell me where. Where exactly did you see them?"
"A couple of streets east of here," Alex replied. "But a zombie cordon is forming there and the sound of the gunfire must have attracted more. They're everywhere, like a slow but unstoppable tide. If you go now, you might make it, but it's risky."
Mike and Sarah looked at each other, then their eyes settled on Paul, who was trying to sit up, but grimaced in pain. The injured leg immobilized him, a dead weight in a world where mobility meant survival.
Alex noticed the dilemma in their expressions: leave Paul behind to rescue the children, or stay and risk that the group of firefighters wouldn't hold out.
But could they ignore the opportunity to go find the children?
Alex's mind screamed that it wasn't his problem, that his priority was Emily and getting to Ron's shelter. But something stirred inside him.
He had never been a father, or even particularly fond of children—his pre-apocalypse life was a cycle of monotonous work and routine—but he imagined the emptiness: the panic of losing someone so vulnerable, so dependent. It was as if his visions had injected him with an unwanted empathy or a need to save everyone he could. He saw in his mind the face of a child screaming in the darkness, the echo of a cry that would not stop.
He turned his head towards Emily, who was sitting next to Amy, George, and Yuki. The teenagers looked exhausted, dark circles under their eyes from fatigue and clothes stained with blood and dust. Emily bit her lower lip, her idealistic eyes shining with concern.
"Those kids... we can't leave them alone," she murmured, as if reading Alex's thoughts. Tim, beside her, nodded in silence, his loyalty unwavering but his fatigue evident.
Alex debated internally. Pragmatism, Alex. Survive first. But... what kind of person am I if I ignore this?
Finally, he exhaled.
"Mike, listen to me. I'll help you with the rescue. Just the three of us: you, me, and Leo. We're the most capable of moving fast and fighting if necessary. Tim stays here with Emily, George, Amy, and Yuki to protect everyone. And Sarah, you stay with Paul. You watch over him, keep him stable until we get back."
Mike stared at him, surprise and gratitude mixing in his expression. "Are you sure? You don't know us. It's a huge risk for strangers."
"Yes, it is," Alex admitted, feeling his pulse quicken at the prospect of returning to the chaos. "But in this world, if we don't help each other... what do we have left? Besides, I can't ignore those children. Come on, let's get ready fast. Weapons, protection, the basics. No time for sentimentality."
They moved with practiced efficiency. Mike adjusted his fireman's axe, Leo checked the ammunition in his pistol, and Alex checked his backpack, making sure the knife was accessible.
Sarah hugged Mike briefly, a quick kiss loaded with fear. "Come back with them," she whispered.
Tim approached Alex, patting him on the shoulder. "Be careful. I can't watch over Emily on my own."
Alex nodded, ignoring the lump in his throat. As they headed to the first floor, the groan of a nearby zombie resonated, a reminder of what awaited them.
The three of them saw the reality of the city's situation again as they stepped outside the building. The city was enveloped in an oppressive silence, broken only by the occasional moan of zombies shambling in the shadows.
Alex, Mike, and Leo left the building with quick but silent steps, moving like ghosts through the desolate streets. The sky was a leaden gray, and the air, heavy with the stench of decay and burned gasoline, churned their stomachs.
The streets, barely touched by two days of the apocalypse, showed an unsettling abandonment: cars with open doors, some with the keys still in the ignition; stores with broken windows, looted or simply closed as if their owners expected to return; garbage scattered by the wind.
But the dried blood on the sidewalks and the bodies lying around—some motionless, others moving with that characteristic clumsiness from an apocalyptic movie virus—betrayed the truth: this wasn't an evacuation, it was the end.
Alex led the group, his machete sheathed on his belt, and the makeshift spear in his hand, ready for any dangerous situation. As they advanced, dodging an overturned car, he broke the silence.
"Mike, what do you know about all this? What happened to the firefighters at the military cordon?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, but filled with urgency.
Mike, his fireman's axe hanging from his shoulder, exhaled heavily. "We were at the downtown cordon until yesterday afternoon. The military tried to contain the zombies, but... there were too many. More kept arriving every hour, as if the entire city was turning. We had to evacuate, but my company from District 2 was trapped helping with some traffic accidents when the cordon collapsed. We were left stranded, trying to get civilians out. The other companies are still active, but they're overwhelmed. Nobody can keep up with this shit." His tone was bitter, tinged with frustration.
Alex nodded; he knew about this. His portable radio, tuned to the emergency frequencies, had already given him fragments of the situation: garbled transmissions, screams, desperate orders.
"And you, Leo?" he asked, looking at the cop, who walked with his hand on his pistol, eyes scanning every corner. "What happened to you guys?"
Leo frowned, reluctant. The protocols seemed to cling to him like an echo of a world that no longer existed. But after a moment, he gave in.
"Same thing, more or less. Chaos erupted in too many places. We were split up to cover zones, but they also sent us to get the big shots out: politicians, businessmen, the mayor's office. They left the civilians behind to save the 'important' ones." His voice dripped with contempt. "That's why I'm here, trying to do something worthwhile."
Alex noticed the shame in both of them, a shared burden for having been part of a system that got its priorities wrong. He didn't judge them; he also carried his own ghosts. Alex didn't want to ask more to not make them uncomfortable, and also because they probably knew less than he did about all this.
They advanced several blocks, detouring through narrow alleyways, dodging zombies that growled as they passed. On one occasion, a solitary zombie—a man in a torn suit, half his face ripped off—caught them by surprise around a corner. Alex reacted first, burying his machete in the dead man's skull with a clean motion. The wet sound of the impact made Mike clench his teeth, but he didn't say anything. They continued on, Alex's heart racing, his hands sweating.
Finally, they arrived at a dilapidated office building, half a block from their destination. But the panorama was desolate: the surrounding streets were infested with zombies, attracted by the earlier gunshots. Dozens of them shambled, their moans forming a macabre chorus that echoed among the buildings.
Alex crouched behind an overturned dumpster, signaling for Mike and Leo to do the same. From there, they could see the building where the children and firefighters were supposedly located, but there were no signs of life. The windows were dark, and the silence of the place was more unsettling than the groans of the dead.
"That's a death trap," Leo murmured, assessing the horde. "We don't know if they're still in there, and we can't get in with all those bastards blocking the way."
Alex frowned, his mind working at full speed. Then, an image from his visions hit him: himself, in a dream, riding that bicycle, banging on cars and smashing their windows, luring a horde of zombies as if they were a flock of stupid animals. It was insane, but it worked in the vision. If he could replicate it, they could clear the street enough for Mike and Leo to get to the building. The risk was obvious: staying behind, surrounded, with no guarantee of escape.
"Listen," Alex said, his voice low but determined. "I have a plan. I can lure the horde away, get them out of here. I'll guide them away from the building, using noise. I've seen it in my... well, I've seen it before. If it works, you can get into the building and get the kids out."
Mike looked at him in disbelief. "You, alone? That's suicide. We're firefighters, Alex. Let me do it. It's my job."
Leo nodded. "Or me. I've dealt with fucked-up situations before. You don't have to be the hero here."
Alex shook his head, feeling the weight of his decision. His visions made him different, not better, but more prepared for this. "No. I'm the fastest, and I know how to move with them. I've... practiced this, believe me. You guys go in, find the kids and the firefighters, and get them to safety. But don't wait for me. The horde will make noise, and that will attract more zombies. If I get left behind, keep going without me… I'll come back as I can, but it might take a while."
Mike and Leo exchanged a look, clearly uncomfortable, but the determination in Alex's eyes silenced them. They had seen his skill along the way—the way he anticipated the zombies' movements, his calm under pressure. Reluctantly, they nodded.
"Alright," Mike said, squeezing Alex's shoulder. "But don't die, understood? I don't want to carry that."
Alex managed a half-smile, hiding the knot in his stomach. "Deal."
They prepared quickly. Alex picked up a metal pipe from the rubble, testing its weight. Mike and Leo checked their weapons, making sure they were ready to run towards the building as soon as the horde moved. Alex took a deep breath, feeling the cold of the metal against his palm.
This is insane, he thought, but his visions didn't lie. If he was going to lead, it had to be now. With a final look at his new companions, he left his hiding spot, banging the pipe against a pole with a resounding Clang! The zombies turned toward him, and the game began.
Alex's heart pounded like a runaway drum, each beat echoing in his temples as he ran down the desolate street. The metal pipe in his hand struck a lamppost, producing a sharp clang that cut through the air like a scream.
The zombies' guttural moans responded, a macabre chorus rising from the city's shadows. Alex was sweating, the sweat soaking his shirt under his jacket, his breath coming in short gasps as he maintained a calculated distance from the horde that followed him.
"I can't get too far away or I won't attract all the zombies," Alex thought as he felt his heart's pounding synchronize with the steps behind him.
He moved in wide circles, luring the zombies like a shepherd guiding an infernal flock. His steps were precise, staying close enough for the dead to see and hear him, but far enough to dodge their clumsy hands. The number grew: what started as dozens of zombies now surpassed a hundred, a staggering tide of rotting bodies that groaned and pushed against each other, drawn by the noise and his moving figure. Fear hit him in waves, but Alex channeled it, letting the adrenaline keep him alert.
Don't stop. Don't think. Just move.
.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Alex leads Mike and Leo to rescue Mike's friends and the children they saved. The situation seems difficult, but Alex remembers his visions.
Do you remember Alex's visions?
By the way, the chapter was longer, but I couldn't proofread everything I wrote and I'm completely exhausted. So the rest will be for the next chapter.
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Read my other novels
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time (Chapter 91)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis (Chapter 27)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File (Chapter 9) (PAUSED)
You can find them on my profile.]