The mall felt different. As Lex and her friends moved cautiously through the dim, echoing corridors, they felt a strange pull, as though invisible strings were guiding them forward. It wasn’t just the eerie quiet or the occasional groan of metal shifting in the empty spaces. It was the sense that something was watching them. And not just watching—waiting.
"This place feels… different now," Damien muttered, his airsoft pistol held tightly in his hand. "Like we’re being funneled somewhere."
"I think that’s exactly what’s happening," Lex replied. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were sharp and alert. "The Hive Queen’s aware of us. She has control over the infected, and it seems like she wants us to go a specific way."
Sophie kept close to the group, her grip on her airsoft rifle tightening. "Why? If she can control all the infected, why not just send them all after us?"
Maya shivered, glancing over her shoulder. "Maybe she wants us in a place where she thinks we can’t escape. Somewhere she can corner us and… watch."
The friends shared uneasy looks, each of them haunted by the strange files they had read about the Hive Queen. This wasn’t just some monstrous zombie or brainless infected—it was a being that could think, plan, and scheme.
"The Hive Queen is smart," Brandon added quietly. "She has a purpose behind everything she does. We can’t underestimate her, especially now that she knows we’re coming."
Lex nodded. "Exactly. So we need to keep moving and stay vigilant."
They continued down the corridor, their steps growing slower, more cautious, as the eerie silence around them pressed in. They each checked their airsoft guns, almost out of pellets, but still clinging to the hope that they might be able to slow down whatever came their way.
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They moved into a new section of the mall, where a row of brightly colored neon signs flickered weakly above. Letters faded in and out, illuminating store names that seemed out of place in this nightmare.
"Supermarket’s up ahead," Sophie whispered, pointing to a sign that blinked “Grocery” in dying neon. "It could be full of supplies… or full of infected."
"Or worse," Damien muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the aisles. "Knowing this place, it’s definitely worse."
Lex raised her hand, signaling the group to slow down. "Everyone, check your gear." She did a quick count on her airsoft rifle pellets; there weren’t many left. She looked over at the others, who were doing the same.
Maya pulled a small flashlight attachment out of her bag, clipping it onto her airsoft gun. "This might help, even if we don’t have enough ammo. I don’t like going in there blind."
"Good idea," Lex said, nodding in approval. "Stick close to each other. We’re not taking any chances."
They took a few cautious steps into the supermarket entrance, and the metallic smell hit them immediately. It was sharp and overpowering, the stench of old blood mixed with something that made their stomachs turn.
"What… is that smell?" Brandon asked, covering his nose with his sleeve.
"It’s like a slaughterhouse in here," Damien whispered, his face pale. "But there aren’t any animals… are there?"
The group exchanged wary glances. They each had their airsoft guns ready, their flashlights creating narrow beams that cut through the dim, flickering lights of the supermarket. Shelves were toppled, cans and boxes scattered across the floor, creating a maze of obstacles and dark corners.
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As they moved deeper into the store, the tension grew. Every shadow seemed to shift, every distant sound made them tighten their grips on their weapons. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of refrigeration units still somehow functioning, and the occasional drip of something wet hitting the tiled floor.
"Stay close," Lex whispered, keeping her voice low. "And keep quiet. If there are infected in here, they’ll hear us before we see them."
They moved through the aisles, careful not to trip over the scattered debris. Sophie’s flashlight beam passed over a broken display of canned goods, and she froze.
"Wait… do you see that?" Sophie whispered, her flashlight illuminating what looked like a bloody handprint smeared across one of the freezer doors. The print was fresh, glistening in the dim light, as though someone had dragged their hand across it in desperation.
Maya swallowed hard. "I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all."
"Me neither," Lex replied, her voice tense. "But we have to keep going. Whatever’s in here… we need to be ready."
They pushed forward, trying to ignore the tightening sensation in their chests, each of them feeling as if they were walking into a trap. The further they went, the stronger the metallic smell became, saturating the air and making it almost difficult to breathe.
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As they turned a corner near the back of the store, they heard it—a faint, muffled voice coming from somewhere nearby. It sounded human, strained and weak.
"Did… did you hear that?" Brandon asked, his heart pounding as he scanned the darkness.
"Yeah," Lex replied, signaling for everyone to stay silent. "It sounds like someone… talking."
They moved cautiously, following the faint sound down an aisle lined with broken shelves and shattered glass. The voices grew clearer as they approached the meat section, where rows of slabs of rancid, spoiled meat lay abandoned.
And then they saw them—two people, a man and a woman, bound and gagged, their eyes wide with terror as they spotted Lex and her friends.
"Oh my god," Maya whispered, rushing forward to check on them. "They’re alive!"
The man, bruised and bleeding, managed a weak nod. "Please… get us out of here," he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Who did this to you?" Damien asked, cutting through the ropes binding the woman’s hands.
Before they could answer, a low, menacing laugh echoed through the supermarket, sending a chill down their spines. It was a cruel, mocking sound, as if someone was savoring their fear.
"Well, well," a deep voice drawled from the shadows. "Looks like my cattle attracted some fresh meat."
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They turned to see a hulking figure emerge from the darkness, stepping into the dim light with a sickening grin. The Butcher was massive, towering over them with bulging muscles and a twisted, sadistic glint in his eyes. His bloodstained apron was stretched over his frame, and in one hand, he held a rusted meat cleaver. In his other hand, he dragged a long, blood-smeared chain with a hook dangling at the end.
"You’re… not supposed to be here," the Butcher sneered, his gaze flicking between the friends and the two survivors. "But since you are, why don’t you join my stock?"
The Butcher’s eyes gleamed with a twisted pleasure as he took a step closer, swinging his cleaver slowly, letting its rusted edge gleam in the faint light. Lex and the others backed away instinctively, their eyes wide with horror.
"Move back," Lex ordered, her voice barely steady. "Everyone, get ready. This isn’t just another infected."
"What… what is he?" Sophie whispered, her voice trembling. "He’s not like the others."
"He’s one of the Psychos," Lex replied, keeping her airsoft rifle aimed at him. "And it looks like he’s been waiting for us."
The Butcher let out a laugh, raising his cleaver high. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you," he sneered. "Just like I did with them." He gestured with his chain toward the two survivors, who were now trembling, fear etched into their faces.
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Before Lex could react, the Butcher lunged, swinging his cleaver with terrifying speed. The friends scattered, barely dodging as the massive blade slammed into the floor, sending cracks spidering across the tiles. The Butcher grinned, yanking the cleaver free and turning his gaze toward the fleeing friends.
"Split up!" Lex shouted. "Keep him distracted!"
The group scattered, each of them moving through different aisles and trying to keep out of his reach. Damien threw a can of beans at the Butcher, the metal can bouncing off his shoulder and momentarily halting his advance.
"Hey! Over here, ugly!" Damien taunted, firing another burst of pellets at the Butcher’s head. The pellets struck his eyes, and the Butcher growled, covering his face with one hand as he swung his cleaver wildly with the other.
Sophie took advantage of the momentary distraction, guiding the survivors to the back of the store. “This way!” she urged, keeping her voice low. “We need to find an exit.”