The vehicle tore through the desolate streets, its reinforced tires crushing the occasional zombie underfoot with a sickening crunch. Inside, Corey and Ornelas steadied themselves as Palesa expertly navigated through the urban wasteland. The interior of the vehicle was cramped but secure, the walls lined with makeshift armour plates, a clear sign that whoever owned this rig had been through hell and back.
Corey stole a glance at Ornelas, who was still clutching his bow, his knuckles white with tension. Despite the near-death experience they had just escaped, there was a spark of something new in Ornelas’s eyes—hope. It was a fragile thing, something they had learned not to trust too readily in this world, but it was there nonetheless.
Palesa’s eyes darted between the road and the rear view mirror, where she kept a careful watch on her two new passengers. “Where were you two headed?” she asked, her tone more curious than concerned.
Corey hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. Trust was a rare commodity these days, and he wasn’t sure if Palesa was friend or foe. “We were heading to a supply depot,” he finally answered. “We’re running low on everything.”
Palesa nodded, her expression neutral. “I figured as much. Not many people would risk traveling out there otherwise.” She paused, as if weighing her next words carefully. “You’re lucky I found you when I did. The dead are everywhere these days. But you’re in luck—we’ve got supplies. Food, water, weapons. Enough to keep you alive.”
Ornelas’s eyes widened at the mention of supplies. “Where are we going?”
Palesa’s gaze softened slightly as she glanced at him. “We’ve set up a base. There are others, like you, trying to survive. We’ve been gathering survivors, stockpiling what we can, and holding our ground. It’s not much, but it’s home—for now.”
Corey felt a surge of relief wash over him. For the first time in months, they were going somewhere safe—somewhere they could rest, if only for a little while. But that relief was quickly tempered by suspicion. “Why help us?” he asked, his tone wary.
Palesa shrugged, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Because we’re all in this together, whether we like it or not. The dead don’t care about who we were before this—they’ll kill us all the same. The only way we survive is by sticking together, pooling our resources. Besides,” she added with a hint of a smile, “you looked like you could use a break.”
Corey couldn’t argue with that. “Thank you,” he said, the words feeling inadequate for the life she had just saved.
The vehicle continued to rumble through the streets, the cityscape gradually changing as they moved further from the heart of Johannesburg. The towering skyscrapers gave way to smaller buildings, many of them abandoned or in various states of decay. The occasional sign of life—a boarded-up shop, a barricaded house—hinted at other survivors, but there was no one in sight.
After what felt like hours, Palesa finally turned off the main road, steering the vehicle down a narrow alleyway that led to what looked like an old industrial park. The buildings here were squat and utilitarian, their brick walls scarred by time and neglect. As they approached, Corey noticed a series of barricades and guard posts surrounding the area, each manned by armed survivors.
Palesa brought the vehicle to a stop near a heavily fortified gate. A guard approached, his rifle slung over his shoulder, and Palesa rolled down her window.
“Who’ve you got with you?” the guard asked, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the vehicle.
“Found them on the east side,” Palesa replied. “They were about to be zombie chow. Figured they could use a little help.”
The guard nodded and signalled to someone behind the gate. A moment later, the massive steel doors creaked open, and Palesa drove inside. As they passed through the gate, Corey caught sight of the sign hanging above it: “Sanctuary.”
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Inside the walls, the industrial park had been transformed into a makeshift fortress. Rows of tents and temporary shelters lined the open spaces, while the larger buildings had been repurposed into communal areas—kitchens, storage facilities, and armouries. People moved about with purpose, their faces a mix of exhaustion and determination. Some were armed, keeping watch over the perimeter, while others tended to the wounded or distributed supplies.
Palesa parked the vehicle and cut the engine, turning to face Corey and Ornelas. “Welcome to Sanctuary,” she said with a hint of pride in her voice. “It’s not perfect, but it’s safe. For now...”
Corey and Ornelas climbed out of the vehicle, their eyes wide as they took in the sight before them. It was a far cry from the desolation of the city outside, and for a moment, it almost felt like they had stepped back in time, to a world before the dead had taken over.
As they stood there, taking it all in, a man approached. He was tall and muscular, with a shaved head and a serious expression. He wore a black tactical vest over a faded green shirt, and a pistol was holstered at his side.
“Palesa,” he greeted her with a nod before turning his attention to the newcomers. “Who are they?”
“Found them out in the city,” Palesa explained. “They were headed to a supply depot. Figured they could use some help.”
The man studied Corey and Ornelas for a moment, his eyes sharp and assessing. “Names?”
“Corey,” Corey answered, holding the man’s gaze. “This is my brother, Ornelas.”
The man nodded. “I’m Captain Joao D’Souza. I’m in charge of security here. We don’t get many newcomers, so you’ll have to forgive my suspicion. We’ve had our share of trouble.”
Corey could understand that. Trust was hard to come by, especially in a place like this. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. Just looking for a place to stay, maybe help out if we can.”
D’Souza’s expression softened slightly. “We could use more hands. If you’re willing to work, you’re welcome to stay.”
Corey nodded, grateful for the offer. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Good,” D’Souza said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Get yourselves settled in. We’ll find you a spot. And don’t wander off—Sanctuary is safe, but it’s not without its dangers.”
As D’Souza walked away, Palesa turned to Corey and Ornelas with a reassuring smile. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
They followed her through the camp, passing rows of tents and shelters. Corey noticed that while the people here seemed hardened by the apocalypse, there was a sense of community—a rare thing in this world. Children played near a makeshift playground, watched over by wary parents, while others gathered around a central fire pit, sharing stories and food.
“This used to be an old manufacturing plant,” Palesa explained as they walked. “When everything went to hell, a few of us found our way here and decided to fortify it. It wasn’t easy, but we’ve managed to carve out a little piece of safety.”
Ornelas looked around in awe. “How many people live here?”
“About a hundred,” Palesa replied. “More come and go, but that’s the core group. We’ve got farmers, mechanics, doctors… everyone pitches in.”
She led them to an empty tent near the edge of the camp. “This will be your spot for now. It’s not much, but it’s dry and safe. Get some rest—you look like you could use it.”
Corey thanked her, and she gave them one last smile before heading off to attend to other duties. As she left, Corey turned to Ornelas, who was already inspecting the tent with a mixture of relief and disbelief.
“We’re really here,” Ornelas said, his voice filled with wonder. “A place with other people… it’s like a dream.”
Corey nodded, though a part of him couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this was too good to be true. “Let’s just take it one day at a time. We’ve been through a lot to get here, and we don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”
Ornelas smiled faintly, though he seemed too exhausted to argue. He dropped his pack on the ground and sat down on one of the cots, the tension in his body finally easing as the weight of their journey lifted, if only for a moment.
As Corey unpacked his own things, he couldn’t help but think about everything they had been through. The days spent scavenging for food, the nights spent in fear of the dead, the friends and family they had lost along the way. And now, here they were, in a place that promised safety—at least for a little while.
But as he lay down on the cot, staring up at the canvas ceiling, Corey knew that the fight wasn’t over. The dead were still out there, and so was the virus that had caused all of this. Sanctuary might be a safe haven, but it was still just a temporary refuge in a world gone mad.
For now, they would rest. But tomorrow, they would need to figure out what came next. The long road ahead was far from over, and Corey knew that their survival would depend on more than just luck.
As sleep finally claimed him, Corey’s last thought was of the mysterious resistance Palesa had mentioned. If there were people still fighting back against the apocalypse, then maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for a future beyond the dead.