CHAPTER 12: 12: THE WORLD WAS FILLED WITH STRANGE PEOPLE

Zara’s breath caught in her throat the moment she skidded to a halt, her heart slamming against her chest as she came face-to-face with the barrel of a rifle.

The black metal gleamed coldly, the muzzle pointed directly at her face. Her body froze, the blood in her veins thickening as panic surged within her.

The premonition she’d had before—of a bullet striking her—suddenly came to mind. Was this what it had been trying to tell her? Why then and not right before this happened?

I’m going to die, her thoughts screamed at her. She tried to steady herself, but the tremors in her hands betrayed her. But then, somewhere deep within, the thought of Leo—of his wide, hopeful eyes—came to her. He was waiting for her. Counting on her. A surge of resolve pushed through her, solidifying her stance as she squared her shoulders, even as the rifle remained pointed at her head. Her gaze slowly lifted, steadying, locking onto the man behind the gun—a challenge.

The tension in her body coiled tight, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She was trembling but no longer in fear.

She was furious.

*****

Winter’s gaze narrowed as he assessed the woman standing before him. He hadn’t expected a civilian in this area; he was on edge, and every sense was heightened. The woman was a surprise, and he didn’t like surprises.

Flashback

Winter was deep inland now, the scent of decay heavy in the air as he trudged through the remains of the old world. His machete, slick with zombie gore, dripped with the remnants of the fight. The undead had flooded the area like a living nightmare, their jaws snapping, eyes glazed with hunger.

He had taken down a few zombies at a time, feeling the dull ache of exhaustion seeping into his bones, but never allowing it to slow him down. A particularly rabid zombie lunged at him, teeth snapping too close, its grotesque face twisted in a ravenous snarl. Winter dodged and drove his machete into the creature’s skull with a sickening crunch, forcing it back with a twist.

As the last of the horde fell around him, he heard footsteps. Not the dragging, irregular gait of a normal zombie, but purposeful, urgent strides coming closer. Every instinct screamed at him to prepare for a Hunter—one of the mutated ones, fast and smart. He’d fought enough to know their distinct, brutal way of moving. He’d raised his rifle, body coiled with tension, waiting for the inevitable.

But instead of a Hunter, a human woman had appeared, almost materializing out of nowhere. Her eyes had darted around, and for a split second, her gaze had locked onto his. Surprise flickered across his face, so brief he barely noticed it himself.

flashback end

With the way she held the bat, she was clearly no ordinary civilian. but he doesn’t know if she’s a threat or simply lost. Still, he knows better than to drop his guard; this is a dangerous area, infested with the undead and twisted with the unknown. She might be innocent, or she might be hiding something, and Winter has no patience for loose ends.

Winter stares down at her, his rifle aimed steadily, watching her fear morph into something more challenging. She glares back at him, her brows knitting together in silent rebellion. Then, to his surprise, she slaps the rifle aside.

"What is wrong with you?" she snaps, her voice thick with both rage and fear.

Winter blinked, his grip tightening on the rifle in response. Did she just—?

Winter studies her, momentarily taken aback by her audacity. Most people, especially those who stumble into his crosshairs, have a sense of self-preservation that keeps them in line. But this woman—she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. Coldly, he cocks his head, regarding her with an expression as close to amusement as he allows himself.

"I should be asking you that," he said calmly. "What person runs around as loudly as you did in this place?"

Her lips twisted into something between a smirk and a sneer. "You don’t scare me," she said, her tone laced with challenge.

Winter raised an eyebrow, the rifle still in his hands. "I didn’t think I was trying to."

They both heard a rustling from behind and turned to see someone run up to them. The chaser had finally caught up, his grin widening as he took in the scene—clearly expecting Zara to be an easy target. But as his eyes fell on Winter, his smirk faded, uncertainty flickering across his face.

"Where are you all coming from?" Winter took a single, imposing step forward, his cold gaze fixing on the chaser. He raised his rifle again, trained on the newcomer’s head.

The man gulped, eyes trained on the rifle.

"Dont try any funny business," Winter said calmly, "My bullets dont miss."

The man went rigid, sweating bullets as his eyes went from the woman to the rifle and back.

"That one of your friends?" Winter asked her, voice laced with dry sarcasm.

She huffs, crossing her arms, masking her discomfort with a thin veil of defiance. "Wouldn’t call him that."

The chaser stammered, eyes darting between them. "Look, I didn’t know she had... help." He tried to play it cool, but Winter could see through the desperation in his eyes.

"So you decided it would be fun to chase her around?" When the chaser took a step forward, Winter gave him a grim smile as he shot the space between his feet. The sudden sound made the woman flinch, clearly not expecting it.

The man began stammer again, clearly terrified and at a loss of words. Winter could see the desperation setting in his eyes.

"Last chance. Who are you and what do you want?" Winter’s voice held a note of dark amusement, but his gaze was deadly.

The chaser’s hand twitched toward his waistband. Before he could reach his weapon, Winter moved quickly, the rifle cracking with a single shot that echoed through the empty lot. The chaser’s body slumped to the ground, lifeless, the threat snuffed out as quickly as it had arrived.

Winter turned back to Zara, who stared at him with horror. It was one thing to kill zombies, they were already dead. But a human? With no hesitation? it was clear this man was dangerous. There were people like this running around and she left her baby alone.

God, how much time has passed? Was he ok?

Winter turned to her and there’s a pause as they size each other up.

"What’s your problem?" Zara asked, voice trembling as she broke the silence.

Winter quirked an eyebrow, his tone as dry as desert sand. "My problem? You’re the one running around like you have screws loose, making me waste my bullet."

"Gee, thanks," she shot back, gripping her bat tightly.

"Youre welcome, now get lost, before you bring more trouble for me," he waved her off dismissively.

Zara’s face flushed with rage. This fucking rude, piece of—

Before she could reply, a sound erupted from nearby—the growling, guttural snarl that could only belong to a zombie.

Winter stiffened, his eyes flicking to Zara, a trace of exasperation flashing across his face. "Tell me you know how to handle yourself."

Her response was immediate, indignant. "I can hold my own," she snapped, raising her bat in front of her.

She had fought zombies before, had been fighting them till she got here. At least she thought so until she saw them.

Zara’s breath hitched in panic.

"What the hell are those?" she demanded, eyes wide.

Winter didn’t answer at first. He was already scanning the area, rifle in hand, his expression still cool but his mind working at lightning speed. "Hunters, of course," he muttered a curse under his breath. "You’ve never seen one before?"

Zara shook her head, her pulse thundering in her ears as she tried to understand what was happening. Winter, however, was already in motion, his eyes flicking between the trees, calculating, preparing.

"Stay close," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Zara’s stomach dropped as monstrous shapes began to emerge from the shadows. The Hunters were unlike any zombies she had ever seen. These were fast, relentless, with sharp claws and grotesque features that made her blood run cold.

"Shit," she breathed, gripping the bat she had picked up earlier. She wasn’t ready for this.

Winter was already in motion, his rifle raised, his body a blur.

The Hunters lunged, faster than Zara had anticipated. She barely had time to react, swinging wildly as one of the creatures bore down on her, its grotesque face contorted with hunger. The bat connected with its shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to stop it. Panic flared as she scrambled back, her mind racing. She had faced zombies before, but these things—these twisted, agile monsters—were something else entirely.

The creatures head jerked to the side as a bullet slammed into it, throwing it off course.

Winter’s voice cut through her panic. "Focus. They’re faster, but predictable. Don’t panic—think."

She grit her teeth, steadying herself, forcing her mind to clear. His instructions, though curt, gave her something to latch onto. She moved with renewed focus, ducking and weaving, trying to mirror his calm.

Another Hunter closed in, and she twisted, swinging her bat to catch it in the ribs. As it staggered, Winter’s rifle shot past her, taking it down.

They fought on, her bat a blur as she ducked and weaved, Winter’s rifle never missing its mark. Despite the danger, there was a strange synergy between them, a push and pull that kept them in sync.

When a Hunter veered toward her, she swung her bat as hard as she could, landing a brutal blow to its temple. It staggered, and she felt a surge of triumph, only to be jolted back to reality as another lunged at her from the side.

Winter’s hand shot out, grabbing the Hunter by its neck and slamming it to the ground.

Despite herself, Zara can’t help but glance at him in awe. He’s impossibly fast, his movements a deadly blur as he takes down each Hunter that approaches. She’s never seen anyone fight like this.

At one point, they ended up back-to-back, Zara gasping for breath as she tried to fend off another Hunter. Her shoulder brushed against Winter’s, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met—a strange, almost electric connection sparking between them even amidst the chaos.

This is insane, she thought, her heart racing.

Finally, the last Hunter fell, its body crumpling to the ground in a twitching heap. The woman’s chest heaved as she lowered her bat, adrenaline still surging through her veins. Beside her, Winter stood unscathed, his breathing steady, rifle still in his arms.

He cast her a sidelong glance, a hint of wry amusement in his eyes. "You don’t handle yourself too badly... for someone who nearly got herself killed back there."

She shot him a glare, wiping sweat from her brow. "And you’re not as charming as you think."

A low chuckle escaped him. "Fair enough. Charm doesn’t keep you alive out here."

She rolled her eyes, moving to wipe a smear of blood from her cheek. "Maybe not, but manners wouldn’t kill you."

Just when he thought the moment might ease, a distant rumble echoed from further down the corridor. The unmistakable sound of more creatures approaching.

Winter’s gaze turned cold, his expression hardening. "We’re not done yet."

The woman’s fingers tightened around her bat as they prepared once more for the oncoming wave.