The wind shifted.

  It was subtle at first—a faint shift in pressure, the distant scent of moist earth and ozone cutting through the rancid decay that hung thick in the air. Then came the sky, darkening at the edges like ink bleeding into paper, clouds rolling in low and heavy, churning with something violent on the horizon.

  For the first time since I had arrived in this nightmare, I felt something new in the air—something that didn’t stink of death, rot, or old dust.

  It was the smell of rain.

  And with it, the ever-present horde of flies began to scatter.

  They had been everywhere, a constant, writhing veil of black wings and bloated bodies, swarming over anything dead or dying. Their buzzing had become part of the soundscape of this hell—so ever-present that I had stopped noticing it, just another piece of the dirge that hummed through this rotting corpse of a world.

  But now, they dispersed, carried away on the changing wind, their high-pitched drone fading as storm winds began to sweep through the hollowed streets.

  I pulled my collar up instinctively, as if that would protect me from the elements, my eyes flicking toward Anna. She had paused at the intersection we had been sneaking toward, body tense, gaze locked on the shifting clouds above.

  “Storm’s coming,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. Her jaw flexed slightly as she evaluated the sky, her body wired with an awareness I lacked.

  “Good or bad?” I whispered, gripping my length of jagged rebar tightly.

  “Both.” She sighed, shifting the small backpack higher onto her shoulders. “It’ll keep the dead from swarming, which means we can move easier. But it also means we need to get inside before it really hits, or we’ll be trapped in the open.”

  I swallowed hard, nodding. I had no idea what an open-street thunderstorm in this ruined world could mean, but from the way Anna was moving faster, I wasn’t about to question it.

  She gestured sharply toward the outskirts of the city. “We’re heading for a safe house outside the metro district. It’s further, but fewer roamers that way.”

  “Lead the way.”

  We moved fast, weaving through the streets with deliberate silence, stepping over half-eaten skeletons left to rot in the gutters. Some were picked clean, bones scattered and gnawed through, ribcages cracked open like discarded carcasses on the Serengeti. Others still had remnants of flesh, leathered and sun-bleached, clinging stubbornly to bone, stretched taut over empty skulls.

  The sight of so many half-consumed bodies made my stomach twist in revulsion, but I forced myself to keep walking, to keep my breath steady, to keep from throwing up again.

  Anna barely acknowledged them.

  She moved effortlessly, scanning ahead, ears attuned to every sound, eyes locked on every movement in the distance. I tried to keep pace, but the hunger, the exhaustion, and the weight of this entire nightmare pressed down harder with every step.

  Ahead, scattered roamers still lurked, drifting aimlessly through the city’s skeleton like phantoms, heads lolling at unnatural angles, their bodies moving in that horrific, stuttering shuffle. Their movements were slow, disjointed, some missing limbs, others missing pieces of themselves altogether. One roamer dragged itself across the pavement, its spine broken, leaving behind a streak of thick, blackened sludge in its wake.

  I tried not to look.

  Tried not to listen to the wet sound of its body pulling itself forward, the grotesque wheeze rattling from its ruined throat.

  Anna moved us in a wide arc around the worst of them, keeping close to the shadows, avoiding the ones too clustered together. She barely even looked at them anymore.

  I wasn’t there yet.

  Every single decayed, half-human thing still sent spikes of terror through my already wrecked nerves. The fact that we could just sneak past them, just move through their world like shadows, made me sick.

  How had this become normal?

  Anna abruptly raised a fist, signaling me to freeze.

  I obeyed immediately, pressing myself into the hollow of a collapsed building’s doorway, trying to still my breath as a new sound carried over the rising winds.

  Shuffling. Multiple sets of feet.

  I pressed my back harder against the cold stone, my heart pounding violently. Across the street, emerging from the rusting husk of an old department store, was a small group of them—six, maybe seven. Their heads twitched as they moved, mouths slightly open, tattered clothing hanging from their skeletal frames.

  One of them turned its head slightly in our direction.

  I swore under my breath.

  Anna slowly reached for her bat. Her muscles tensed, fingers flexing. Waiting. Calculating.

  But they didn’t see us.

  The group moved on, their grotesque silhouettes fading into the misty haze of the approaching storm.

  Anna let out a slow breath, shoulders relaxing only slightly. She turned to me and whispered, “We go now. Stay low, move fast.”

  I nodded, even though my knees felt like they were about to give out beneath me.

  We pressed forward, every nerve in my body screaming for me to run, to get the fuck out of here, to get inside.

  I could feel the first hints of rain on my face now—small, warm droplets, carrying the thick scent of petrichor and something foul buried beneath it. The storm was closer than I’d thought, and the sky above us churned violently, thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance.

  Anna moved quicker, darting from cover to cover, and I forced my exhausted body to keep up.

  I wasn’t built for this.

  Not yet.

  But I had no other choice.

  The safe house loomed ahead—a crumbling townhouse, barely distinguishable from the ruins surrounding it. The windows were boarded up, the door reinforced with makeshift barricades, giving it a look of defensive desperation.

  Anna reached the door first, moving with a confidence that told me she had been here before. She knocked sharply—three short raps, a pause, then two more.

  For a tense, breathless moment, nothing happened.

  Then, with the sound of grinding wood and shifting locks, the door creaked open just enough for us to slip inside.

  As soon as we were in, the door slammed shut behind us, the sound drowned beneath the first real clap of thunder that rolled through the ruins outside.

  I stood there, chest heaving, rainwater streaking down my face, my entire body numb with exhaustion and terror.

  The storm had arrived.

  The door slammed shut behind us with a deep, hollow finality, locking us inside as the storm outside roared to life. Thunder rumbled through the decrepit walls, sending vibrations into the floor beneath my aching feet. The smell of damp wood, mildew, and dust filled my nostrils, replacing the heavy stench of decay from outside, but it did little to ease the knot in my stomach.

  Anna took the lead immediately, moving deeper into the house with practiced confidence, her bat still gripped tightly in one hand. I hesitated near the entrance, my breath uneven, my mind reeling from the constant, relentless terror that had been hounding me since I arrived in this fucking nightmare.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The safe house was barely standing.

  The walls were warped from time and neglect, the floorboards creaking beneath my shifting weight. The furniture—what little remained—was pushed into corners, covered in tattered sheets coated in a thick layer of dust. A warped wooden staircase led to a second floor, but most of the steps were cracked or missing entirely. The windows had been boarded shut, their gaps stuffed with dirty rags to keep the wind from howling through. The air inside was stale and dry, carrying the lingering scent of old sweat and long-dead embers—as if someone had once tried to make this place livable but gave up long ago.

  Anna muttered something under her breath, kneeling near the fireplace where an old oil lantern sat half-buried under a collapsed shelf. She flicked at a dented metal lighter, cursing under her breath until a small, flickering flame finally caught the wick. The weak glow spread through the room, casting long, clawing shadows against the warped walls.

  She sat back on her heels, exhaling heavily, finally letting her shoulders sag.

  For the first time since we met, she looked tired.

  Not just physically—but mentally drained. The weight of the world she had survived pressed into her sharp features, her jaw tightening as she stared at the flame, lost in thought.

  I swallowed thickly, stepping forward hesitantly. “This place is… safe, right?”

  Anna scoffed but didn’t look up. “No where's safe.”

  I exhaled shakily, dragging my hands down my face, my palms grimy with sweat and dirt. The exhaustion settled over me in full force now that we had stopped moving, every muscle screaming, every inch of my body aching from the stress and hunger.

  Anna finally turned toward me, eyes flicking over me critically. “Let me see if you got the mark yet.”

  I blinked. “The what?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Turn around.”

  I hesitated, but she didn’t wait for me to comply. She grabbed my shoulder and spun me with little effort, tugging the back of my torn shirt up before I could protest. I shivered as the cold air hit my sweat-dampened skin, my back tense as she inspected me in silence.

  After a few beats, she clicked her tongue in irritation. “Nothing.”

  I frowned. “That… that’s bad, right?”

  Anna sighed, letting go of my shirt with an annoyed huff. “Means you’re still a liability.”

  I turned back to face her, scowling. “Gee, thanks.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t get pissy. It just means you’re still too weak to survive on your own.” She sat back down, propping her bat against her knee. “You don’t get the mark until you’ve killed a hundred roamers.”

  A cold weight settled in my stomach. “A hundred?”

  Anna leaned back against the broken fireplace, arms crossing over her chest. “That’s how it works. You take out a hundred level one roamers, their pearls fuse into one, and that’s what gives you your first boost.” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes reflecting the flickering lantern light. “Your body gets a permanent increase in strength, intelligence, or regeneration. And once you’ve got your first core, the tattoo shows up on your back.”

  I let out a disbelieving laugh, raking my fingers through my filthy, matted hair. “You’re telling me I have to kill a hundred of those things before I can even start to get stronger?”

  Anna smirked slightly, but there was no humor in it. “Welcome to the apocalypse.”

  I slumped against the wall, letting my head thump back against the rotting wood. My entire body felt drained, the combination of hunger, thirst, and sheer terror leaving me lightheaded.

  “How long did it take you?” I muttered.

  Anna’s expression darkened slightly, her fingers tightening around her bat. “Three weeks.”

  I exhaled sharply. “That’s… fast.”

  She nodded slowly, her gaze shifting away, jaw clenching. “Didn’t have a choice.”

  The way she said it made my stomach twist.

  What had she gone through to get that first hundred?

  I didn’t get the chance to ask.

  The moment the words formed on my tongue, a sharp sound cut through the air.

  A soft shuffle.

  Inside the house.

  The blood in my veins turned to ice.

  Anna’s head snapped toward the dark hallway, her eyes narrowing. The lantern light flickered, casting long, twisting shadows into the doorway leading into the rest of the house.

  Then came another sound.

  A low, wheezing moan.

  It was inside.

  I felt my stomach drop into a pit of absolute dread. My pulse spiked violently, pounding against my ribs as my breath hitched.

  Anna moved fast, snatching up her bat and rising to a crouch, her entire body coiled and ready. She turned to me and pressed a finger hard to her lips, eyes flashing dangerously.

  Stay quiet.

  I swallowed hard, barely daring to breathe.

  The sound came again—a soft, uneven scrape of feet across the rotting floorboards, moving closer from the hallway. My eyes locked onto the darkened doorway, my hands clenching around my rebar, my mind spiraling into sheer panic.

  Then—movement.

  A shadow lurched forward from the darkness.

  A roamer.

  It moved fast, its jagged teeth bared, its hollow, blackened eyes locked onto us. Tattered skin hung loosely from its arms, its throat a gaping wound of congealed black rot.

  It lunged at me.

  And I screamed like a goddamn child.

  Anna moved instantly.

  Her bat swung wide, slamming directly into the side of the creature’s skull with a sickening CRACK. The force of the blow sent the roamer’s head snapping sideways, its rotted flesh splitting open like a burst fruit.

  It collapsed heavily, twitching violently before finally going still.

  The room fell silent again.

  I stood frozen, my breath shuddering, my legs threatening to give out beneath me.

  Anna turned toward me slowly, her face a mask of pure disgust.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she hissed.

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat was raw from screaming.

  Anna wiped the blood off her bat with measured, irritated movements, her lips pressed into a thin, furious line.

  “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re pathetic.”

  I forced down the burning humiliation, my hands still shaking violently.

  “Fuck you,” I rasped.

  Anna rolled her eyes, nudging the freshly killed corpse with her boot.

  “Get used to it,” she muttered. “Because next time? I might not be fast enough.” The room still smelled like death.

  I had expected the air to clear, for the horror to settle now that the thing was dead at my feet, but the stench of rotting flesh only seemed thicker, heavier, as if the house itself had absorbed the foulness of the thing that had been lurking in the shadows.

  The body twitched once before going still. My eyes stayed locked on it, the deep gouge in its skull leaking black, coagulated sludge onto the warped floorboards, mixing with the dust. My breath came in ragged gasps, my throat still raw from my pathetic, girlish scream.

  Anna, standing beside me, let out a sharp exhale, the kind of sound someone makes when they lose the last shred of patience they had left.

  She turned slowly, her glare cutting through me like a knife.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  I wiped a trembling hand across my mouth, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. “I—” My voice cracked. I cleared it quickly, forcing out a response that wasn’t as shaky. “It—it caught me off guard.”

  Anna scoffed, shaking her head. “Off guard? Are you fucking kidding me? You screamed like a dying pig. You’re lucky that thing wasn’t louder or we’d have a whole goddamn horde clawing at the doors right now.”

  Shame burned deep inside me, hot and suffocating, wrapping around my ribs like barbed wire. My fingers clenched tighter around the jagged rebar, as if holding onto something solid would keep me from completely falling apart.

  I wanted to defend myself. Wanted to tell her that this wasn’t normal, that I wasn’t built for this, that I had never had to fight for my life before stepping through that goddamn door in the basement.

  But I didn’t.

  Because the truth was, I had no excuse.

  Anna had survived this world for years—since she was a kid. She had lived through things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and I was standing here, shaking like a fucking coward, barely able to hold my weapon.

  Her glare didn’t soften. She sighed through her nose, then gestured toward the corpse with her bat. “Go ahead.”

  I frowned, my stomach twisting. “What?”

  Anna nudged the body with the toe of her boot, her expression unreadable. “Your kill, your pearl. Cut it out.”

  A wave of nausea slammed into me so fast I thought I’d be sick on the spot. I glanced at the body, then back at Anna. “You—” My voice came out hoarse. “You killed it.” She shrugged. “I don’t need the pearl.”

  I stared at her, realization settling in like a lead weight in my gut.

  She was forcing me to do it.

  She was making sure I couldn’t just stand in the background, letting her do all the work while I stayed weak and useless.

  I swallowed hard, my throat tightening, my entire body protesting what I was about to do.

  The corpse stank, its rotting flesh already splitting at the seams, revealing tangled black muscle and exposed bone beneath. The wound in its skull still oozed, releasing a putrid stench that made my eyes water.

  I reached into my pocket, fingers fumbling for my pocket knife. My limbs felt weak, my stomach hollow, my body barely responding as I crouched next to the corpse, my knife shaking in my grip.

  I could feel Anna’s eyes on me.

  Judging. Watching.

  The skin of the roamer’s neck was soft, loose, almost gelatinous, and when I pressed the knife against it, it sank in too easily, releasing a wet squelch that sent pure revulsion rolling through me.

  I gagged, bile burning up my throat, but I forced myself to keep going, sawing through the tissue, feeling it shift under my grip, the texture both rubbery and slimy, like something that had been left to rot in stagnant water.

  My stomach lurched violently.

  I had to pause, swallowing back another gag as the stench of putrefaction hit me full force, the smell of spoiled meat and stagnant blood thick enough to make my eyes burn.

  The pearl was there, nestled deep within the decayed muscle, a small glowing orb slick with rot and filth. It was… beautiful, in the most horrific way—perfectly smooth, almost pearlescent, despite the decay surrounding it.

  I reached in with shaking fingers, prying it free. It came loose with a wet pop, slipping from the ruined flesh into my palm, warm and slick with putrid gore.

  That was it.

  That was one.

  Only ninety-nine more to go.

  I staggered backward, shoving my knife back into my pocket, wiping my hand furiously against my already filthy pants, trying to get the vile slickness off my skin. My breath came in ragged gasps, my mind spinning, my body screaming at me to throw up again.

  Anna just watched, her expression impassive.

  “That,” she finally said, “was fucking pathetic.”

  I clenched my jaw, still too nauseated to argue.

  Anna rolled her eyes. “You need a hundred of those to get your first mark.” She gestured lazily toward my back. “Until then, you’re dead weight.”

  I swallowed thickly, gripping the pearl tighter in my fist. It felt unnatural, almost like it was pulsing slightly, as if alive in some grotesque way.

  I forced myself to meet her gaze. “And then what?” I rasped, my throat raw.

  Anna leaned against the fireplace, crossing her arms. “Then you get to actually start surviving.”

  I exhaled sharply, my grip tightening around the small, grotesque fragment of progress I had ripped from the corpse. My stomach still churned, my hands still trembled, but there was something else now.

  Something worse than disgust.

  The horrible realization that I would have to do this again and again.

  And again.

  Anna must have seen the horror settle into my face because she smirked faintly, shaking her head. “Welcome to the fucking apocalypse, city boy.”

  I had never wanted to wake up from a nightmare so badly.