Happily ever after.
That’s how the world always promised stories would end. After all the bloodshed, after the losses and pain, we finally had a green zone. We had Lucky. We had safety. For once, the nights weren’t filled with screaming or the gnashing of teeth at our barricades. For once, we felt like we had won.
But in a world like this, happiness is temporary.
You don’t get fairy tales when the dead walk the earth.
The calm never lasts. It never could. Not when every corner beyond our wall teems with monsters—groaning, mindless husks of who people used to be. Every walker is someone’s lost sibling, parent, lover. And every day they press closer, drawn by smell, by movement, by the sound of our fleeting joy.
The laughter around the fire pit had started to fade. Not because we didn’t want to laugh—but because we were afraid of what it might attract.
Lucky still wagged his tail. Still barked at butterflies and flopped across Neelam’s lap like the world wasn’t burning outside. But even he sensed it. The tension. The dread that seeped in like smoke under a door.
One night, just before dawn, the gate rattled.
Not from the wind.
Not from scavengers.
From something… heavier.
Something smarter.
Will and I were already up, patrolling the wall. When we heard it, we froze. Looked at each other with the same thought.
This wasn’t a regular walker.
We grabbed our weapons—mine, the hammer still stained from the last ambush—and crept toward the gate. The sky was still dark, only the faintest hint of blue threatening to break through.
And there, just beyond the bars—silhouettes. At least a dozen.
They weren’t groaning. They weren’t moaning.
They were waiting.
Watching.
Still.
“What the hell…” Will whispered.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My breath caught in my throat as the lead figure stepped closer.
It had eyes.
Not just white, milky ones. But… focus. Awareness.
The others behind it didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared.
The dead were changing.
And whatever peace we thought we had built… it was about to crumble.
Will slowly raised his bat, but I stopped him with a glance.
“Don’t,” I said quietly. “Not yet.”
The lead walker stood just a few feet from the gate now. Its skin was paler than the others we’d seen, not rotting in chunks like the rest. It was thin—gaunt—but not stumbling. It didn’t sway. It didn’t groan. It stood still, head tilted slightly, studying us like it understood.
“What the fuck is that?” Will breathed.
“I don’t know,” I replied, tightening my grip on the hammer. “But it’s not like the others.”
It moved again—one step forward, slow, deliberate. Then another. It pressed a single hand against the gate, long fingers curling around the rusted metal. Its eyes… they locked on mine. Not just a blank, undead stare—but intent. Awareness. It was watching me.
Then, slowly, it opened its mouth.
And it smiled.
The breath left my lungs. My body went cold.
“No way,” Will whispered.
A loud clank rang through the air as the walker slammed its hand against the gate—once, then again. A signal.
The rest of them moved.
Silently, in perfect unison.
Not normal. Not random.
These weren’t the same creatures we’d faced for months. These were organized. Controlled. Or worse—evolving.
“Back inside. Now,” I ordered.
Will didn’t argue. We sprinted across the yard, pounding on the doors.
The others woke fast—training had done that to us. Neelam was already arming herself. Kush burst out of his bunk, Lucky at his heels, growling low in his throat.
“What is it?” Neelam asked.
“They’re at the gate,” I said. “But not like before. They didn’t try to force it. They watched. One of them… smiled.”
“Smiled?” Taashi echoed, eyes narrowing. “Are you sure it wasn’t just twitching?”
“No. It knew what it was doing.”
Will nodded, pale. “It wasn’t just some random crawler. It waited. Then it moved them. Like a leader.”
Taashi’s expression darkened. “Then we need to prepare for a different kind of war.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Because if the dead were starting to think...
Then everything we had built—our routines, our defenses, our hope—meant nothing.
The rules had just changed.
The next night, the gate was gone.
We woke to the sound of twisting metal and bone-chilling silence—not groans, not screams—just nothing. The kind of quiet that made your skin crawl.
Kush was the first to reach the main hall, his breath catching as he looked out through the observation slit. I was right behind him.
There was no battle.
No siege.
The front gate had been ripped open, the razor wire coiled neatly to the side.
Like someone wanted us to see what they were capable of.
“What… how—?” Neelam choked out behind us.
I stepped forward slowly, my boots crunching over broken glass. Blood smeared the steps. Fresh. Still warm.
Then we saw the bodies.
Two of our scouts—Rohan and Safeena—slumped by the entryway. Their weapons were still sheathed.
Throats slit.
Neat. Precise.
Not chewed. Not torn. Executed.
A third shape lay nearby—Sumukh.
His body was torn in half. But his face… he was smiling.
Or someone had forced his mouth open and carved it that way.
Saanvi screamed. Will turned and vomited. I just stared, heart pounding so loud it drowned everything else out.
Then the first scream came—from the south wing.
“TAASHI!”
I didn’t think. I ran.
By the time we reached the dorm corridor, it was already too late.
The walkers weren’t slow anymore.
They were waiting—inside.
Someone had let them in.
The lights flickered. Blood smeared the walls. The air stank of death and piss and fear.
I turned a corner—and saw one of them crouched over Aalia, her body limp, unmoving. The walker didn’t even bother biting. It was watching me, hands soaked in her blood, head tilting slowly side to side.
Like it was learning.
Studying.
Mocking.
I roared, hammer raised, and charged.
The impact was wet and awful—skull shattering beneath steel. I kept hitting long after it stopped moving. I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe.
“TAASHI!” I called out again.
She staggered out from a side room, dragging Neelam with her, both of them splattered in gore. Taashi’s arm was torn, bleeding badly.
“We have to fall back!” she shouted.
Lucky was barking wildly, biting at a crawler’s leg, trying to drag it back. Will came out of nowhere and crushed its head with a spade.
“We’re surrounded!” he yelled. “They’re inside, all over!”
“No,” I said, chest heaving. “This isn’t an infection.”
Will looked at me, confusion in his eyes.
“This is a message.”
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