The sun was barely over the horizon when Corey awoke to the sound of raised voices outside the tent. He sat up quickly, his hand instinctively reaching for the machete that lay beside him. Ornelas was still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, a rare sight of peace in their otherwise chaotic lives.

Corey slipped out of the tent quietly, careful not to wake his brother, and stepped into the morning light. The camp was already stirring with activity. People moved purposefully, setting up cooking fires, tending to makeshift gardens, and preparing for the day ahead. But it was the small crowd gathered near the gate that caught his attention.

He approached cautiously, his eyes scanning the group for any sign of trouble. As he drew closer, he saw Captain D’Souza standing at the centre, his expression grim. Palesa was there too, her face tense with worry. A man and a woman, both covered in dirt and sweat, stood before them, clearly exhausted from whatever ordeal they had just endured.

“What’s going on?” Corey asked as he reached the edge of the group.

Palesa glanced at him, her expression softening slightly. “These two just arrived. They barely made it past the outer defences.”

The man, who looked to be in his early thirties, spoke up, his voice hoarse from dehydration. “We were part of a convoy… trying to bring supplies to another camp south of here. But we got ambushed.”

D’Souza’s eyes narrowed. “Ambushed by who?”

“Not who,” the man replied, shaking his head. “What. It was… something different. Not like the usual zombies. These things were faster, more aggressive. They came out of nowhere, tore through our group before we even knew what was happening.”

Corey’s stomach tightened. The dead were already terrifying, but the idea of something even worse out there was almost too much to bear. “What do you mean, different?”

The woman, who had been silent until now, looked up, her eyes wide with fear. “They weren’t just faster—they were smarter, too. It was like they knew how to work together. We saw them corner a group of our people, cut off their escape routes… they were hunting us.”

A murmur of unease rippled through the crowd. The dead were supposed to be mindless, driven only by their hunger. But if these creatures were evolving, becoming something more dangerous, it could mean the end for any survivors who still clung to life.

D’Souza’s jaw clenched as he processed the information. “How many of you made it out?”

The man shook his head, his expression pained. “Just us. There were fifteen of us when we left the camp. By the time we got here… we were the only ones left.”

Corey felt a cold dread settle over him. If what they were saying was true, then the situation was even more dire than they had realised. The dead were changing, becoming something far more dangerous. And if these new creatures were on the move, Sanctuary could be next.

“We need to prepare,” D’Souza said, his voice hard. “Fortify the defences, double the patrols. If these things are out there, we can’t afford to be caught off guard.”

Palesa nodded, already moving to carry out his orders. “I’ll round up the others. We’ll need everyone on high alert.”

As the crowd began to disperse, Corey stepped forward, his mind racing. “What can I do to help?”

D’Souza looked at him for a long moment before nodding. “You’re handy with that machete, right? Join the patrols. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Corey nodded, feeling a sense of grim determination settle over him. He had fought the dead before, but if these new creatures were as dangerous as the survivors had described, then they were facing a whole new kind of threat. He had to be ready.

“Let me just check on my brother,” Corey said, glancing back at the tent.

D’Souza’s expression softened slightly. “Go ahead. We’ll be organising in the main yard.”

Corey hurried back to the tent, his heart pounding. Inside, Ornelas was still asleep, oblivious to the tension that gripped the camp. Corey hated the thought of dragging his brother into yet another fight, but he knew they couldn’t afford to be caught unprepared.

“Ornelas,” Corey said gently, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up.”

Ornelas stirred, blinking groggily as he sat up. “What’s going on?”

Corey hesitated, not wanting to alarm him but knowing he needed to be honest. “There’s been a new development. Some survivors just arrived, and they’re talking about… a new kind of zombie. Something worse.”

Ornelas’ eyes widened, the last traces of sleep vanishing as the gravity of Corey’s words sank in. “Worse? How?”

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“They’re faster, smarter. They work together to hunt people down.” Corey’s voice was steady, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. “We’re going to join the patrols. We need to be ready for anything.”

Ornelas nodded, already reaching for his bow. “I’m with you.”

They gathered their gear quickly, slipping on their backpacks and securing their weapons. Corey felt a surge of pride as he watched Ornelas prepare with the calm efficiency of someone far beyond his years. He had grown up in this nightmare, and it had shaped him into a survivor. But Corey couldn’t help but wish he could have protected his brother from all of this—given him a chance at a normal life.

They made their way to the main yard, where a group of survivors had already gathered. Captain D’Souza was there, along with several others who looked ready to fight. Palesa was issuing orders, directing people to reinforce the barricades and set up additional defences.

As Corey and Ornelas approached, D’Souza nodded to them. “Glad you could join us. We’ve got a patrol heading out in ten minutes. We’re going to sweep the area, make sure there aren’t any of these new creatures lurking nearby.”

Corey nodded, feeling the weight of the task ahead. “We’re ready.”

D’Souza looked between the two brothers, his expression serious. “Stay close to the group, and keep your eyes open. If you see anything—anything out of the ordinary—you call it out immediately. We can’t afford to take any chances.”

Corey tightened his grip on the machete. “Understood.”

The group gathered near the gate, their faces tense but determined. There were about a dozen of them, armed with a mix of melee weapons and firearms. Corey recognised some of the faces—survivors he had seen around the camp—but others were new. They were all strangers in a way, brought together by necessity, bound by the shared struggle for survival.

As they waited for the signal to move out, Corey took a deep breath, steadying himself. This wasn’t the first time he had faced danger, but something about this felt different. The stakes were higher, the threat more immediate.

A loud clang signalled the opening of the gate, and the group moved out in a tight formation, with D’Souza and Palesa leading the way. Corey and Ornelas took up positions near the middle of the group, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement.

The streets outside the camp were eerily quiet, the early morning light casting long shadows across the crumbling buildings. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, a constant reminder of the world they now lived in.

They moved cautiously, every sound amplified by the tension in the air. A distant groan echoed through the empty streets, but it was faint, and the group pressed on, their weapons at the ready.

As they rounded a corner, D’Souza held up a hand, signalling the group to stop. Corey’s heart raced as he strained to see what had caught the captain’s attention.

Up ahead, near a row of abandoned cars, something moved. It was quick, a blur of motion that darted between the vehicles before disappearing into the shadows. Corey’s grip tightened on his machete, his body tensing as he prepared for whatever was coming.

“Everyone, stay sharp,” D’Souza whispered, his eyes fixed on the spot where the movement had been.

The group edged forward, their weapons raised, ready for an attack. The silence was oppressive, the air thick with anticipation. And then, without warning, the creature struck.

It burst from the shadows with a speed and ferocity that took everyone by surprise. It wasn’t like the zombies Corey had fought before—this thing was faster, more agile, and terrifyingly intelligent. It moved with purpose, targeting the nearest survivor with a savage precision.

Corey barely had time to react as the creature lunged at a man near the front of the group. The man screamed, raising his rifle, but the creature was too fast. It slammed into him, knocking him to the ground, its jaws snapping hungrily.

“Get it off him!” D’Souza shouted, rushing forward with his pistol drawn.

Corey moved without thinking, his body acting on pure instinct. He swung his machete in a wide arc, aiming for the creature’s head. The blade connected with a sickening crunch, but the creature barely seemed to notice. It turned its bloodshot eyes on Corey, a low growl rumbling from its throat.

For a brief moment, Corey locked eyes with the creature, and what he saw there chilled him to the bone. This wasn’t just a mindless zombie—it was something more, something with a terrifying intelligence. It wanted to kill him, not just out of hunger, but out of some deeper, darker instinct.

But before the creature could attack, Ornelas fired an arrow, the shaft sinking deep into its skull. The creature let out a final, guttural snarl before collapsing to the ground, twitching once before going still.

The group stood frozen for a moment, the shock of the attack still fresh in their minds. Then D’Souza stepped forward, his face grim as he inspected the body.

“Everyone, keep your eyes open,” he ordered, his voice tense. “There could be more of them.”

As they regrouped, Corey felt a rush of adrenaline, his heart still pounding in his chest. They had survived the encounter, but it had been close—too close. The creature had been faster, stronger, more dangerous than anything they had faced before.

“What the hell was that thing?” Ornelas whispered, his voice shaking slightly.

Corey shook his head, unable to answer. Whatever it was, it had been a harbinger of things to come—a sign that the dead were changing, evolving into something far more terrifying.

D’Souza’s expression was hard as he looked at the group. “This isn’t over. We need to get back to the camp, regroup, and figure out what we’re dealing with.”

The group moved quickly, their pace faster now as they retraced their steps back to Sanctuary. The tension was palpable, every shadow a potential threat, every sound a warning of danger.

As they approached the gate, Corey couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the empty streets, but there was nothing—just the eerie silence of the city.

When they finally reached the safety of the camp, the gate closed behind them with a heavy clang. D’Souza immediately began barking orders, sending out runners to warn the other survivors and prepare for a potential attack.

Corey and Ornelas exchanged a look, both of them knowing that this was just the beginning. The world was changing, and the dead were becoming something else—something worse.

As they headed back to their tent, Corey couldn’t help but wonder what else was out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. The fight for survival had just entered a new phase, and they would need every ounce of strength, every bit of cunning, to stay alive.

The gathering storm was coming, and Sanctuary would be at the heart of it.