CHAPTER TWO
" The Soldier Returns"
The smoke hadn't cleared by dawn.
It rolled through the streets like a living thing, swallowing light, swallowing sound. The air reeked of burnt tires and decay. Ezekiel walked through it in silence, his boots crunching on broken glass and debris.
He'd seen battlefields before _ Kabul, Tripoli, unnamed deserts where death was just another order _but this… this was different.
This was home.
Everywhere he looked, the city was bleeding. Cars abandoned mid-lane, fires dancing on rooftops, phones still ringing beside corpses that would never answer. The world wasn't ending fast. It was rotting slow.
Ezekiel stopped at an intersection, scanning the streets like a soldier on patrol. The habits came back naturally low stance, eyes moving left to right, every sound dissected. Somewhere nearby, a metal gate rattled.
He raised his pipe.
The wind shifted.
A figure stumbled out of the haze small, limping, clutching a baseball bat that was too big for their arm.
Ezekiel tensed.
"Stop," he barked. "Hands where I can see them."
The figure froze then slowly lifted their head. It was a girl. Maybe sixteen. Her face smeared with ash, her eyes wide but alert.
"I'm not..... I'm not one of them," she stammered. "Please."
He lowered the pipe an inch but didn't relax.
"What's your name?"
"Lana," she whispered. "My family… they're gone. I've been hiding since last night."
He studied her_ the trembling hands, the blood-stained sleeve, the cracked bat clutched like a lifeline. She was terrified, but she hadn't given up. That, he respected.
"You move quiet," he said finally. "That'll keep you alive."
"Are you… military?" she asked.
He almost laughed. "Used to be."
Before he could say more, a low growl broke through the stillness. Not human. Not far.
Lana flinched. Ezekiel motioned for silence.
They crept behind an overturned truck. Through the broken glass, he saw them _ three of them this time _ staggering through the smoke, twitching, sniffing the air. Their flesh was torn in places, their mouths slick with dark blood.
One stopped, jerking its head toward the sound of Lana's breath.
Ezekiel didn't hesitate. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a run. They darted down a narrow alley, boots pounding on wet concrete. Behind them came the screeches _ high, broken, and animal-like.
They burst into a small street lined with abandoned stores. Ezekiel shoved open a pharmacy door, dragging her inside, and pushed a shelf against it just as the first creature slammed into the other side.
The door shook.
Lana gasped. "They're not stopping....."
"They never do," he said, checking the room for weapons. He found a half-empty first aid box and a shattered syringe .. useless. His eyes landed on a fire axe hanging by the counter.
He ripped it free. The handle fit perfectly in his grip.
The banging grew louder.
The wood began to crack.
"Back," he said, stepping forward. "When it breaks, stay behind me."
The door split open, wood splinters flying.
The first creature lunged in, mouth open wide and Ezekiel met it midair with the axe. The impact sent a spray of black blood across the tiles. He kicked the second one down, turned, and drove the blade into its skull with a grunt.
The third came crawling through the broken shelf, snarling but before he could strike, Lana swung her bat with everything she had. The blow landed clean on its jaw, sending it crashing to the ground.
She stood panting, hands shaking.
Ezekiel looked at her for a long moment then nodded once.
"Not bad," he said. "For a rookie."
Lana's lip trembled. "Are they… are they all dead?"
"For now," he said, yanking the axe free. "But more'll come. We need to move before nightfall."
He looked out the cracked window. The streets were empty again _ too empty. Somewhere, in the distance, a siren wailed weakly before dying altogether.
He slung the axe over his shoulder. "There's an army outpost on the east side of the city. If it's still standing, it's our best shot."
Lana nodded, clutching her bat tighter. "Then what?"
"Then," he said, glancing at the distant skyline still burning red, "we find whoever's left… and we start again."
As they stepped out into the smoke, the wind carried faint echoes _ not screams this time, but a voice over a broken radio:
".....to any survivors… this is Haven Station. We're rebuilding. We're alive."
Ezekiel froze. For the first time since the night began, a flicker of something fragile but fierce lit his eyes.
Hope.
He adjusted his grip on the axe and began walking toward the voice.
The soldier had returned.