Chapter 1: The Forest's Grip

The forest resonated with the eerie sounds of the undead. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, shadows crept around us. I could sense their presence trailing behind; Evan's labored breathing beside me confirmed it.

The pungent odor was often the first indicator of their approach. Some emitted noises, but nothing could compare to the stench of decaying flesh.

"We have to get out of these woods," Evan urged.

Typically, the forest was a sanctuary, but we needed visibility to anticipate their movements.

For another ten minutes, we treaded cautiously, every step calculated. Evan paused twice to secure his gear; noise was a beacon for them.

Just as we neared the forest's edge, a figure emerged from behind a tree. It towered over us, its pallid skin a telltale sign of its condition. When it turned, the crimson around its mouth was unmistakable.

Its broad shoulders made navigating the underbrush cumbersome, yet it advanced toward us. I lifted my weapon, aiming directly at its forehead, but Evan gestured for caution.

I understood. Conserving ammunition was crucial. He readied an arrow and released it. The arrow struck true, shattering the creature's skull and embedding itself into a nearby tree.

"Let’s keep moving," he urged.

Evan retrieved his arrow, wiping the ghastly remnants on his shirt before stepping over the fallen creature. He hesitated for a moment, prompting my inquiry.

"What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied, "let’s go."

Doubt flickered in my mind about whether the body would attract more of them, but Evan seemed unfazed.

As the daylight dwindled, we stumbled upon a clearing revealing a country road lined with dilapidated buildings: an old gas station and two larger structures. Nature had reclaimed these spaces, vines enveloping the largest building while the asphalt was choked by overgrown vegetation. Had we arrived later, we might have missed this refuge entirely.

I took a step toward the building, but Evan stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. Realizing my error, he produced a monocular from his pack to scan the surroundings while I remained vigilant, watching the woods behind us. Each rustle heightened my anxiety.

After fifteen minutes, Evan signaled me, and we made our way to the cluster of buildings. We headed for the gas station first, its proximity and smaller size made it our initial target.

Creeping in silence, Evan, clad in his dark hoodie, blended seamlessly with the shadows. Bow drawn, he prepared for a potential confrontation, silent but deadly, as we had both endured enough gruesome encounters.

Upon reaching the gas station's side door, Evan leaned against the frame, waiting for me to push it open. I swung the door wide, ensuring it wouldn’t close behind us, and Evan entered first, scanning the cramped space.

While he examined the cashier's area, I explored the storage room. The door was ajar, its handle broken, and a dark stain marred the floor. Pausing for a breath, I kicked the door open to reveal an empty room. The stain beneath me was old, suggesting whatever had transpired here was long over.

As I returned to the main area, I found Evan cleaning a knife. "There was one behind the counter," he stated simply before sheathing it and retrieving his bow.

“Don’t you get tired of this?” I asked, half-joking.

“Of surviving?” He replied, turning to me. “Not at all.”

As darkness enveloped us, we needed to clear the other buildings before nightfall. The next structure was larger than the gas station, so we opted for the smallest one first.

We approached from the rear, but the back door wouldn’t budge, revealing it had once served as a small restaurant. After finding the door barricaded from within, we opted for a broken window instead.

Navigating the kitchen quietly was a challenge, with discarded pots and rotten cans littering the floor. The restaurant had two sections, and we could glimpse the dining area through a window.

Evan held up three fingers, signaling the countdown. When he finished, he kicked open the two-way door, and I stepped in first, shotgun leveled, with Evan following closely armed with a small caliber rifle.

The stench hit us like a wall. I struggled to cover my face with a bandana as Evan swept the room, seemingly unaffected.

Once we finished our search, Evan declared, “Clear.”

“Well, almost,” I remarked, pointing toward a dark mass in the room’s center.

“Is that what I think it is?” I questioned.

Evan affirmed, “It’s a funeral pyre,” prodding the mass with a charred piece of wood.

“Do you think it was a massacre?”

“I think it was an escape,” he replied.

I opened my mouth to say more, but he cut me off. “We need to move.”

I complied, and we slipped out through the same broken window to confront the largest building.

Moving quickly, we approached the imposing structure, constructed of weathered gray brick. The large sliding door was barricaded, and most windows boarded. Evan knelt by one of the windows while I searched for another entrance, spotting a service door around back.

“I counted three,” I reported to Evan.

“I don’t know how many are inside,” I added.

“Only one way to find out,” he replied.

The service door was locked, yet it yielded when I picked the lock. It opened abruptly, and Evan rushed in, knife drawn. The room was empty, coated in dust and dark stains, connected to the main building by a single door.

“You ready?” he asked, and I nodded, gripping the door handle.

As I swung it open, Evan dashed through, bow drawn. Three figures stood before us.

Knowing better than to interrupt him while he hunted, I watched in awe as Evan swiftly dispatched the first two before turning his attention to the last.

I approached him after he finished.

“We need to move these bodies,” he stated.

We piled the corpses in the service entrance, locking and barricading the door. I secured the windows while Evan lit his makeshift lamp, its sickly glow a beacon we tried to shield from outside.

We rearranged the shelves, creating a defensive position behind a sturdy counter.

“I think this could wo