Chapter 10: Into the DarkThe world above was on fire.

  Sam barely had time to process what was happening before he hit the cold, hard ground of the tunnel beneath the hardware store. The explosion from above had shaken the walls, sending dust and debris raining down. He coughed, waving the dirt from his face as he scrambled to his feet.

  Carter nded beside him, rifle in hand, his face tense. Grace came next, smming the trapdoor shut behind her just as another explosion rocked the building above.

  They were out of sight. For now.

  The tunnels stretched ahead of them—dark, damp, and reeking of mold and old sewage. Pipes ran along the walls, some rusted and dripping water onto the concrete floor. The tunnel itself was wide enough for them to move in a single-file line, but the air was thick with dust and decay.

  Sam turned to Grace. “Where do these lead?”

  “Out of the city,” she said, adjusting the strap on her rifle. “If we can make it through without getting caught.”

  Carter scoffed. “If we don’t run into rats the size of dogs.”

  Sam wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

  Above them, the sound of gunfire echoed—short, controlled bursts followed by the distant shouts of scavengers. The ones they had escaped earlier had come back. And they had brought friends.

  Grace motioned ahead. “We move fast and quiet. No talking unless necessary.”

  Sam nodded, gripping his bat tightly.

  The tunnels stretched before them like an open maw, swallowing what little light the ntern provided.

  And with that, they disappeared into the dark.

  Something in the ShadowsThey moved carefully, their footsteps barely making a sound on the damp concrete.

  Sam’s nerves were on edge. Every creak of a pipe, every distant drip-drip of water made his pulse quicken. His mind pyed tricks on him, turning shadows into figures, turning echoes into whispers.

  Then Carter stopped suddenly, throwing out a hand to halt them.

  Sam froze.

  “What is it?” Grace whispered.

  Carter was staring down the tunnel ahead. His fingers tightened around his rifle.

  Then Sam heard it.

  A soft, wet shuffling.

  It was faint, but it was there—something moving in the dark, just out of sight.

  Grace cursed under her breath. “Not alone down here.”

  Sam’s grip on his bat tightened.

  Carter lifted the ntern slightly, casting a faint glow down the tunnel. The flickering light revealed the curve of the tunnel ahead. The sound was growing louder now.

  Then, it stepped into view.

  A lone infected.

  Its clothes were shredded, its flesh peeling away from its body. Its eyes were milky white, its mouth open in a grotesque, soundless moan. It took a slow, dragging step toward them.

  Then another.

  And behind it…

  More figures emerged.

  Five. No, six.

  More than a dozen.

  Carter exhaled sharply. “Hell.”

  The infected turned their heads in unison, locking onto them.

  Then they charged.

  The Tunnel Fight“Move!” Grace shouted.

  Carter fired first, his rifle kicking against his shoulder. The bullet smmed into the lead infected’s skull, sending it crumpling to the ground.

  But the others kept coming.

  Sam barely had time to react before one of them lunged. He swung his bat, cracking it against the infected’s head. It stumbled but didn’t fall.

  It reached for him.

  Sam swung again—harder this time. The bat connected with the side of its skull, shattering it like brittle wood.

  Blood and bone spttered onto the tunnel walls.

  Grace fired, taking down two more. Carter reloaded, cursing under his breath.

  Sam’s heart pounded. More infected were pouring into the tunnel, their moans bouncing off the walls. There were too many.

  “We need to go!” he shouted.

  Carter fired again, then nodded. “This way!”

  They turned and ran.

  The infected gave chase, their guttural growls filling the tunnel. Sam didn’t dare look back.

  His legs burned. His lungs felt like they were on fire. But he kept running.

  Then he saw it—a door.

  An old maintenance room, rusted but still intact.

  Carter skidded to a stop, kicking the door open. “Inside!”

  Sam and Grace barreled in after him. Carter smmed the door shut, throwing his weight against it just as the infected reached them.

  THUD.

  The door shuddered.

  THUD. THUD.

  They were smming against it, cwing at the rusted metal.

  “Help me hold it!” Carter grunted.

  Sam threw his shoulder against the door. The infected screeched on the other side, their fingers slipping through the cracks, desperate to get in.

  Grace scanned the room. “There!” She grabbed a heavy metal shelf and shoved it against the door. Sam and Carter pushed with everything they had, wedging it in pce.

  The infected continued to pound against the metal, but the door held.

  For now.

  Silence filled the room, except for the sound of their heavy breathing.

  Sam slid down the wall, his arms trembling.

  “We’re trapped,” he said.

  Grace wiped sweat from her forehead. “Not trapped. Just stuck… for now.”

  Carter paced, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it. That was too close.”

  Sam looked around. The maintenance room was small—barely big enough for the three of them. Rusted tools were scattered across the floor. A ventition shaft sat on the far wall, barely big enough for someone to crawl through.

  Sam pointed. “That might be our way out.”

  Carter walked over, inspecting it. “Looks tight.”

  Grace frowned. “We don’t have a choice.”

  The pounding on the door was growing louder. The infected weren’t giving up.

  They had to move.

  A Narrow EscapeCarter ripped off the vent cover. The air inside smelled stale, but it was clear.

  “I’ll go first,” he said, climbing in.

  Sam followed, squeezing into the narrow metal shaft. The walls were cold and damp. The only sound was their breathing and the distant moans from the infected.

  Grace came in st, pulling the vent cover back into pce behind her.

  They crawled.

  Inch by inch, they moved through the tight space, the metal groaning beneath them.

  Sam’s heart pounded. He hated tight spaces. The feeling of being trapped. Of not being able to run.

  Then—a scream.

  Not from the infected.

  From above.

  Sam froze. “Did you hear that?”

  Carter cursed. “Sounds like—”

  Another scream.

  Then gunfire.

  Someone was fighting. Someone alive.

  Grace muttered, “More survivors?”

  Carter shook his head. “Or more trouble.”

  The vent ended in another room—this one rger, filled with crates and an old sewer hatch.

  Their way out.

  Carter kicked the vent cover loose, dropping down. Sam followed, nding hard on his feet. Grace was right behind him.

  They barely had time to get their bearings before the door to the room burst open.

  A woman stumbled in—clutching a knife, her arm bleeding. Her eyes were wide, filled with panic.

  Behind her, a man in body armor stepped in, a shotgun raised.

  He wasn’t infected.

  He wasn’t a scavenger.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  More figures followed—armed, organized.

  Carter’s hand went to his rifle. Sam gripped his bat.

  The man in armor smirked. “Looks like we found ourselves some strays.”

  Sam’s stomach twisted.

  This wasn’t over.

  It was just beginning.