The hideout was quiet except for the muffled groans of zombies in the distance. Ayham paced the small storage room they'd locked him in, his boots scuffing against the concrete floor. He kicked at an empty water bottle in frustration. "This is bullshit." He exclaimed.Through the small barred window, he could see the faint glow of fires burning across the city. Somewhere out there, his brother was playing the hero again while he rotted in this cell. A sharp pain shot through his ribs where Shihab had punched him earlier. He winced, touching the tender spot. Yeah, real brotherly love.The walkie-talkie hidden in his boot suddenly crackled to life. "Ayham, you there?" It was Jabir, one of his old crew. Ayham snatched it up, keeping his voice low. "About damn time. Where are you guys?" "Old textile factory by the docks. Qasim's pissed you got caught. Says if you don't get back soon, he'll—" "I don't give a shit what Qasim says," Ayham hissed. "I'm getting out. Be ready." He

The van's tires crunched over gravel as they turned off the main road, plunging into a dense thicket of pine trees. Shihab watched through the window as sunlight filtered through the branches in fractured beams, casting shifting patterns across the forest floor. The air smelled of damp earth and pine resin, a stark contrast to the acrid smoke of the city they'd left behind. After twenty minutes of winding through increasingly narrow paths, the trees parted to reveal a sturdy log cabin nestled in a small clearing. The structure was larger than Shihab expected, with a wraparound porch and smoke curling lazily from a stone chimney. Solar panels lined part of the roof, and a well-maintained vegetable garden stretched along one side. Jawad killed the engine and turned in his seat. His dark eyes scanned each of them before settling on Shihab. "Wait here," he said, his voice low but firm. "I need to speak with you alone first." Ayham immediately tensed. "Why just him? And who are you

The stench of rotting flesh filled Shihab's nostrils as he fired again and again, the rifle's recoil jolting up his arms with each shot. A zombie's head snapped back. Another crumpled to the pavement. But for every one he took down, two more shambled forward, their milky eyes reflecting the firelight. His back hit the burning car, the heat searing through his shirt. The girl he'd pulled out lay unconscious a few feet away, her chest rising and falling steadily. The other two survivors were still trapped inside the wreck, unmoving. Shihab ejected the empty magazine and reached for another, only to find his pocket empty. A zombie lurched forward, its yellowed teeth bared. Shihab swung his rifle like a club, the stock connecting with its temple with a sickening sound , sending the creature staggered but didn't go down. Another grabbed his arm but Shihab quickly shoved it away and then someone shot it.The zombie's head exploded, showering Shihab with blackened gore. He whirled aro

The heavy doors of the hospital groaned as Shihab and his team pushed them open, the scent of antiseptic and decay flooding their senses. "This way," Jawad whispered, pointing to a stairwell marked with glowing emergency paint. "They probably stay upstairs ."The group ascended cautiously, their weapons drawn. On the third-floor landing, a rusted gate blocked their path until a flashlight beam suddenly cut through the darkness. "Halt!" A voice barked from behind the light. "Identify yourselves!"Shihab shielded his eyes. "We have a wounded girl, her name is Amal."The light lowered, revealing a haggard doctor in a bloodstained lab coat, his surgical mask hanging loose around his neck. Behind him, two nurses clutched makeshift weapons a fire extinguisher and a scalpel. The doctor's eyes widened at the sight of Amal. "Oh poor girl, bring her in!" The fifth-floor pediatric ward had been transformed into a fortified sanctuary. Moonlight streamed through barred windows, illuminatin

The stairwell door burst open as Shihab and Jawad emerged onto the fourth floor landing, their weapons raised and breathing ragged. The smell of decay hit them like a physical blow, rotting flesh mixed with the coppery tang of old blood. Below them, the relentless scratching of claw-like nails against concrete and the guttural moaning of the zombies created a horrifying symphony that echoed through the hollowed-out hospital corridors. Jawad ejected the empty magazine from his rifle with a sharp click, the spent casing clattering against the tile floor. His dark eyes scanned the stairwell as he slammed a fresh magazine home. "They're piling up at the roof access!" he shouted over the din, his voice hoarse from smoke and exhaustion. "If we don't do something now, that door won't hold much longer!" Shihab leaned cautiously over the rusted railing, his grip tightening on his weapon. The scene below turned his blood to ice. Dozens of ghouls pressed against the reinforced steel door lead