Chapter 8: Ashes of YesterdayThe door to Riley’s apartment clicked shut behind Sam, and for a long moment, he just stood there. The world outside hadn’t changed. The dead still wandered the streets. The air still carried the faint smell of rot and fire. But something inside him was different.

  Something was broken.

  He had done the impossible. The unbearable. He had let go of the st piece of his old life, the st thing keeping him tethered to the world before everything fell apart.

  And now…

  He was alone.

  Sam clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. Keep moving. Keep breathing. Those were the only two things that mattered now.

  He turned away from the door, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket. He couldn’t stay here. If the infected hadn’t already found their way inside the building, they would soon.

  And he had no reason to stay anymore.

  The Rooftop EscapeSam moved carefully through the hallway, avoiding the shattered doors and bloodstains. He didn’t want to take the stairs—not after what happened st time—so he searched for another way out.

  The fire escape.

  He found the access door at the end of the hall and pushed it open. A cool breeze hit him, carrying the distant sound of groaning from the streets below. He stepped onto the metal nding, gncing down.

  At least twenty infected shuffled through the parking lot beneath him, some dragging their feet, others moving with unsettling speed.

  Going down wasn’t an option.

  But maybe he didn’t have to.

  The roof was just a few feet above the fire escape. If he climbed up, he might be able to jump to the next building and find a way down from there.

  It was risky.

  Then again, everything was risky now.

  Taking a deep breath, Sam adjusted the bat strapped to his back and reached for the ledge above him. His fingers barely grazed it.

  He jumped.

  His hands caught the edge, his muscles straining as he pulled himself up. His arms burned, his legs kicking against the metal bars of the fire escape for leverage.

  For a second, he thought he wouldn’t make it.

  Then, with one final heave, he dragged himself onto the rooftop, rolling onto his back with a gasp.

  He y there for a moment, staring up at the gray sky, his chest rising and falling.

  Then he sat up.

  The rooftop was mostly empty, except for a few air vents and a rusted-out generator. Across the gap, another building stood at nearly the same height. The jump wasn’t far—maybe six or seven feet.

  Sam exhaled sharply. “You’ve got this.”

  He took a few steps back, then sprinted forward.

  At the st second, he pushed off the rooftop and jumped.

  For a split second, he was weightless.

  Then his feet hit the rooftop of the next building, his body rolling forward from the momentum. He nded hard, pain jolting through his shoulder.

  But he was alive.

  That was all that mattered.

  A City in RuinsSam moved across the rooftop, searching for a way down. From here, he could see more of the city. The destruction was worse than he had realized. Smoke curled from distant fires, bckening the sky. Cars were abandoned in the streets, some overturned, others burned out.

  And the dead…

  They were everywhere.

  A horde shambled down the main road—hundreds of them, moving in a slow, endless wave. Some were missing limbs. Others had broken bodies, their bones sticking out at unnatural angles.

  Sam swallowed hard.

  There was no going back. No undoing what had happened.

  This was the world now.

  He had to find a way to survive it.

  The StrangerSam finally spotted a fire escape on the side of the building. He climbed down carefully, nding in a narrow alleyway between two apartment complexes.

  The street ahead was quiet. Too quiet.

  He gripped his bat and moved carefully, keeping to the shadows.

  Then he heard it.

  A voice.

  “No—no, please!”

  Sam’s stomach twisted. Someone was alive.

  He sprinted toward the sound, ducking between abandoned cars.

  When he reached the intersection, he stopped.

  A man was on his knees in the middle of the road, his hands raised. In front of him stood three figures—not infected, but survivors.

  They were armed.

  One of them, a man with a shaved head and a rifle slung over his back, pointed a pistol at the kneeling man’s face.

  Sam’s grip on the bat tightened.

  He knew that look.

  He had seen it before.

  It was the look of someone who had already decided to pull the trigger.

  A Dangerous DecisionSam had two choices.

  Walk away—keep moving, like Trey had told him.

  Or step in.

  His heart pounded. He knew the smart choice. He knew getting involved could get him killed.

  But he had just lost everything.

  He wasn’t about to let someone else die if he could stop it.

  Sam stepped out from behind the car.

  “Hey!”

  The three armed men snapped their heads toward him, their weapons raising in an instant.

  Sam forced himself to stay calm. “You don’t have to do this.”

  The bald man smirked. “That so?” He tilted his head, studying Sam. “And what do you think we have to do?”

  Sam took a slow step forward. “I think you have a choice.” He gestured toward the man on his knees. “You let him go, and we all walk away.”

  The bald man chuckled. “That’s funny.”

  He raised his gun.

  Sam’s body reacted before his brain did.

  He swung the bat.

  The wooden weapon connected with the man’s wrist with a crack, sending the gun flying. The man let out a sharp curse, stumbling backward.

  The second man—a wiry figure with a machete—lunged forward. Sam barely had time to dodge before the bde sshed through the air where he had just been.

  He swung the bat again, catching the attacker in the ribs. The man doubled over with a grunt.

  The third survivor—a woman with a scar across her cheek—pulled a knife.

  Before she could move, the kneeling man lunged at her, tackling her to the ground.

  Sam didn’t stick around to see what happened next.

  He turned and ran.

  The kneeling man scrambled to his feet and followed.

  Gunfire rang out behind them, bullets sparking off the pavement.

  They ducked into an alley, running until their lungs burned.

  Finally, they stopped, panting.

  Sam turned to the man he had just saved.

  The guy was in his mid-thirties, with dark skin and sharp eyes. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and let out a breathless ugh.

  “Well, kid,” he said, grinning, “I think you just made yourself some enemies.”

  Sam exhaled. “Story of my life.”

  The man extended a hand. “Name’s Carter.”

  Sam hesitated, then shook it. “Sam.”

  Carter nodded toward the alley exit. “We should get moving. Those guys won’t give up that easy.”

  Sam gnced back toward the street. The world was still falling apart. The dead still ruled the city.

  But for the first time in a long time…

  He wasn’t alone.