The morning came gray and bitterly cold ... the kind of chill that sank through clothes and into bone. The fog had thinned just enough to reveal the broken outline of the city: columns of smoke rising where neighborhoods once stood, windows glinting with firelight, and a silence so complete it felt wrong.
They stood at the edge of the campus gate, backpacks slung, weapons improvised ... pipes, rods, and a rusted crowbar Dan had found in the maintenance shed.
Kazuma unfolded the map one last time, tracing the route with a gloved finger.
"East," he said. "Through Holborn. Follow the underground lines until we reach the railway depot."
Mike hefted his iron rod. "So… no scenic detours, then?"
Kazuma didn't look up. "You'll get all the scenery you can stomach."
Leina tied her messy ponytail tighter, breath misting in the cold. "Let's just go before I change my mind."
Dan gave a small approving nod. "Courage isn't loud," he murmured. "It's quiet decisions like that."
Mike snorted. "Mate, you sound like a fortune cookie."
Dan's expression didn't change. "And yet you're still listening."
They moved.
The Streets of Silence
The city had transformed overnight.
Cars lay abandoned mid-road. Shopfronts were shattered, billboards flickering half-dead warnings from emergency broadcasts that no one watched anymore. London wasn't alive ... but it wasn't empty either.
Every few blocks came a sound: footsteps that weren't theirs, a window shattering somewhere far off, or the hollow moan that made their stomachs knot.
Kazuma led with surgical precision, pausing at every intersection to scan, calculate, and move. Dan followed close, eyes tracking rooftops and alleyways. Mike stayed near Leina, whispering to keep her focused.
"Hey, you're doing great," he said as they ducked behind an overturned taxi.
Leina nodded tightly. "I'm trying not to think."
"Good plan. Thinking's how you start panicking."
She gave a faint, involuntary smile.
Then came the smell ... rot and smoke, thick enough to taste.
They turned a corner and froze.
Bodies. Dozens of them ... students, soldiers, civilians ... scattered like fallen mannequins. Some twitched. Some crawled. None were fully dead.
Kazuma raised a hand. "Stay low. Don't draw attention."
Mike whispered, "You ever seen anything like this?"
Kazuma's eyes didn't waver. "Yes. In theory."
Leina looked at him sharply. "Theory?"
"I modeled viral collapse patterns. What we're seeing is predictable decay."
Mike blinked. "You're casually narrating the apocalypse?"
"It helps me focus," Kazuma said flatly.
Leina whispered, "It makes it feel less… human."
He didn't respond. For a moment, though, something flickered behind his calm — a shadow of guilt.
~~~ The Church ~~~
They found shelter in an old stone church. The heavy doors muted the world outside, and fractured light spilled through cracked stained glass, coloring the dust in shifting reds and blues.
Leina drifted toward the altar, fingertips brushing the worn pews.
"I used to come here before exams," she said softly. "I'd sketch the light through those windows."
Dan, sitting on the back bench, watched her. "You find beauty in ruins," he said. "That's rare."
She smiled faintly. "It's all I've ever been good at."
Mike leaned against the wall. "Lucky for us. Makes this place feel less haunted."
Leina looked back at him, and for a heartbeat the world outside seemed far away.
Kazuma broke the moment. "We move soon. Resting too long is risk."
Leina frowned. "Do you ever stop calculating?"
"Calculation is survival."
"So is feeling," she said quietly.
For once, he didn't answer.
Fire on Fleet Street
By afternoon, the city was alive again ... this time with fire.
They crossed Fleet Street as flames chewed through nearby buildings. An explosion thundered somewhere ahead; glass rained down like shards of rain.
Leina coughed into her sleeve. "We can't go through that!"
Kazuma pointed to a narrow alley. "Service tunnels. They connect to the underground line."
Mike peered into the darkness. "Looks like a horror movie set, mate."
Dan gripped the crowbar tighter. "Everything looks like a horror movie now."
They slipped inside. The walls were damp and streaked with graffiti: HELP US, STAY INSIDE, THEY HEAR YOU.
Then came footsteps ... fast, heavy, echoing from ahead.
Kazuma signaled silence.
From the dark stumbled a soldier ... uniform torn, face smeared with blood, rifle dragging at his side. Mike took a cautious step forward.
"Hey! You okay, man?"
The soldier's head snapped up. His eyes were pale, pupils drowned in white.
"Back!" Kazuma shouted.
The thing lunged. Mike swung the rod, cracking its jaw. It collapsed but clawed for Leina's leg. Dan moved without hesitation ... the crowbar struck home with a sickening crunch.
Silence followed. Just their breathing, ragged and shallow.
Mike leaned against the wall, shaking. "That was… a person."
Kazuma wiped his blade clean. "No. That was a system that failed."
Leina turned on him, furious. "You talk like you're dissecting numbers!"
"Because emotion won't save us," he snapped back. "Control will."
"You can't lead people if you forget they're people!" she shot back.
The air went cold. Even Dan looked up, thoughtful.
"She's right," he said softly. "Logic without empathy ends in ashes."
Kazuma's jaw tightened. "Emotion clouds judgment."
Leina crossed her arms. "And logic without heart gets you killed alone."
Mike raised his hands. "Okay, team philosophy, can we postpone the ethics debate until the zombies stop auditioning for dinner guests?"
Despite herself, Leina laughed ... small, sharp, but real.
Even Kazuma's expression eased, almost imperceptibly.
Dan murmured, "Humor ... the last human defense mechanism."
The Depot in Sight
By dusk, they reached the city's edge.
Behind them, London burned ... a sunset of smoke and ruin.
Ahead loomed the railway depot: a cathedral of iron and glass, its rows of locomotives gleaming faintly in the firelight.
Leina stopped, breath catching. "You really think we can use one of those?"
Kazuma nodded. "If the power grid still runs."
"And if it doesn't?" Dan asked.
Kazuma's lips curved ... a ghost of confidence. "Then we make it run."
Mike whistled low. "You're serious."
"I don't waste time on jokes."
"Good," Mike said. "I've got enough for both of us."
Leina smiled tiredly. "You two are impossible."
Dan adjusted his bag. "And yet functional."
Then the wind shifted ... carrying a sound that froze them all.
A chorus of moans. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.
Kazuma turned toward the depot. "They're coming."
Mike's grin vanished. "Guess the locals heard about our travel plans."
Dan's voice was calm but hard. "We can still make it. But once we go in… there's no going back."
Leina's hands trembled on her bag straps. Then she steadied herself. "Then we don't look back."
They ran.
Through the smoke. Through the ash. Through the dying light of London.
Four survivors .... the strategist, the joker, the philosopher, and the artist — crossed into the shadow of the railway yard.
Behind them, the old world burned.
Ahead, iron and steel waited ... and somewhere between them, the fragile line between hope and madness began to blur