The screams faded behind them, swallowed by the wind.The truck rolled steadily down the narrow valley road, its engine a dull growl beneath the weight of silence. Every bump in the asphalt felt heavier now, like the land itself was holding its breath.

Riku kept both hands on the wheel, eyes locked forward. He hadn't said a word in nearly an hour. The faint tension in his jaw told Suzune he was still replaying the rail yard in his head—the horde, the creature, the woman's broken face.

Hana sat quietly in the back, watching the gray world pass outside her window. The stuffed rabbit lay limp in her arms, its fur dirty from travel.

Ichika broke the silence first. "You think they'll stop following us?"

"No," Riku said.

Suzune adjusted the rifle across her lap. "They're moving faster now. It's like they know where we're headed."

Ichika glanced at her. "You saying they're herding us?"

"Or someone's herding them," Suzune replied.

The truck rumbled over a patch of gravel, the sound echoing through the empty valley. Ahead, the mist began to clear, revealing a split in the road—one path climbing toward a tunnel cut through the rock, the other winding down toward a stretch of collapsed bridge.

Riku slowed. "Tunnel or detour?"

Suzune studied the map. "If the bridge is gone, the tunnel's our only way through. But it's a choke point. No exits."

Ichika leaned forward. "I vote for daylight and open ground. I don't do well with caves."

"We'll check the bridge first," Riku said. "If it's passable, we cross. If not, we turn back."

He turned the wheel left, steering down the slope.

The valley opened into a wide basin choked with debris—overturned cars, fallen power poles, and stagnant pools of black water. The bridge stood ahead, or what was left of it. Half the span had collapsed into the riverbed below.

Suzune squinted through the fog. "Doesn't look stable."

"Enough for the truck?" Ichika asked hopefully.

Riku stepped out to check. The air outside was colder, sharper, carrying the smell of rust and decay. He walked to the edge of the bridge, crouching low. The concrete had split clean through, leaving a narrow path barely wide enough for a single vehicle.

He tested a piece with his boot. It shifted.

"Not a chance," he muttered.

Suzune climbed out after him, scanning the treeline. "Then we backtrack."

Before Riku could answer, she froze. "Wait. You hear that?"

He listened. Faint at first—a distant, rhythmic sound. Metal scraping on stone.

Then came the echo of footsteps.

Riku's grip tightened on his rifle. "Positions."

Ichika slid out of the truck, loading shells with a quiet click-click. "Where?"

Suzune pointed toward the opposite side of the river. The fog was moving strangely there, rippling like something large was pushing through.

Shapes emerged—first three, then six, then more.

Human figures, or close to it. They moved in unison, deliberate, silent. Their skin shimmered faintly, almost metallic under the pale light.

"Not infected," Suzune said under her breath.

Riku raised his scope. Through the glass, he saw armor—makeshift plating, scavenged helmets, crude weapons fashioned from steel rods and machetes. Their eyes weren't dead. They were human.

"Survivors," he said.

Ichika exhaled in relief. "Finally."

"Maybe," Suzune muttered. "Look again."

Riku adjusted the scope. The relief drained from his face.

Each one of them had black veins running up their necks and across their faces—faint, but pulsing. Their movements were too steady, too synchronized.

"They're infected," he said quietly. "But still thinking."

One of them raised a flare gun and fired. The red light arced high across the valley, bursting above them.

Within seconds, the valley came alive.

Dozens of figures appeared along the cliffs—some crawling, some sprinting. They poured down toward the road like a tide.

"Ambush!" Suzune shouted.

Riku ran for the truck. "Move, move, move!"

Ichika jumped into the driver's seat and floored it. The truck's tires spun before catching traction, throwing mud as it roared back up the hill.

Riku leaned out the window, firing short bursts to keep the swarm back. "Left ridge, three incoming!"

Suzune took the right flank, rifle steady. "Got them!"

Bullets cracked, shells scattered, and bodies tumbled down the slope—but more came. The infected weren't mindless. They spread out, using the terrain, trying to cut them off.

"Roadblock ahead!" Ichika yelled.

A burned-out bus lay across the road. Behind it, more figures were climbing over the wreckage.

"Ram it!" Riku barked.

Ichika gritted her teeth and hit the accelerator. The truck slammed into the bus with a metallic crunch, pushing it aside just enough to squeeze through.

The impact threw them all forward. Hana cried out, clutching the seat.

Riku turned. "You okay?"

She nodded quickly, tears in her eyes but silent.

Suzune checked her ammo. "Half a mag left."

Ichika snorted. "That's half more than me."

The road twisted upward again, narrow and slick with rain. The engine groaned under the strain.

"Tunnel's close!" Suzune shouted over the noise.

They reached it just as the last of the light began to fade. A black mouth carved into the mountain, wide enough for the truck.

Riku glanced back. The horde was still following—too many, too fast.

"In," he ordered.

Ichika didn't need to be told twice. She drove straight into the darkness.

Inside, the sound changed. The roar of the engine echoed off the walls, deafening. Water dripped from the ceiling, and the tunnel smelled of mold and old gasoline.

Suzune switched on the floodlight mounted on the hood. The beam cut through the dark, revealing cracked tiles and old maintenance signs.

"Any exits?" Ichika asked.

Suzune scanned the map. "None until the other side."

"Then we better hope it's clear."

They drove fast, headlights slicing through the black. But something was off. The tunnel wasn't empty.

As the light swept over the walls, dozens of dark shapes came into view—hanging from the ceiling like cocoons.

Ichika slowed, horrified. "What the hell…"

The things twitched, pulsing slightly.

Suzune whispered, "Don't stop. Don't even breathe loud."

The truck rolled past them at a crawl. Each cocoon was human-sized, wrapped in thick, fleshy strands. Some still had faces visible—half-digested, eyes open but unseeing.

Hana whimpered softly, covering her ears.

Then, one of the cocoons moved. A hand broke free, clawing at the air.

Riku's voice was low but firm. "Punch it."

Ichika slammed the accelerator. The truck roared forward, clipping a hanging mass that burst open, spilling black liquid across the windshield.

The smell hit them instantly—sweet, rotting meat.

Suzune gagged. "Go! Go!"

Dozens of the cocoons began to stir, bursting open as the horde behind them reached the tunnel entrance.

The sound that followed was pure chaos.

Screeches echoed from every direction, bouncing off the walls until it felt like they were surrounded. Figures fell from the ceiling—half-formed, half-dead—clawing at the moving truck.

Riku fired through the open window, shots deafening in the confined space. "Keep straight!"

Ichika's knuckles were white on the wheel. "I can't see!"

Suzune leaned out the passenger window, laying down bursts of suppressive fire. "They're on the walls!"

One creature landed on the hood, smashing the floodlight. Darkness swallowed them.

"Hold on!" Ichika shouted.

She swerved hard, scraping the truck's side against the tunnel wall. The creature was crushed between metal and concrete with a sickening crunch.

The truck burst through the last stretch of tunnel and into the open air.

They didn't stop until they reached a clearing half a kilometer away.

Ichika cut the engine. The sudden silence was overwhelming.

Everyone sat still, breathing hard.

Hana started crying softly, face buried in her arms. Suzune reached back and rested a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. You did good, kid."

Ichika stared out the windshield, voice shaking. "I hate tunnels."

Riku wiped blood from his face, scanning the tree line. The road ahead stretched through a forest, faint sunlight breaking through the canopy. For the first time since morning, he let himself breathe.

Suzune looked back at the mountain. Smoke poured from the tunnel entrance, followed by faint movement. "They're not stopping."

Riku nodded grimly. "Then we don't either."

They drove again, slower this time. The forest was quieter, but the air felt wrong—too still, like everything living had already fled.

After a while, Ichika spoke. "You think those cocoons were… people?"

Suzune didn't answer. She just looked out the window, face pale.

Riku finally said, "If they were, they aren't anymore."

The words hung heavy in the cabin.

Hana broke the silence a minute later. "Riku… will it ever stop?"

He didn't answer right away. He looked at her through the rearview mirror—the tired eyes, the dirt on her cheeks, the way she still held that stuffed rabbit like it could protect her from the world.

"It will," he said quietly. "We just have to make it stop first."

Suzune turned slightly, watching him. There was no bravado in his voice. No false hope. Just truth, and exhaustion.

Ichika leaned her head back against the seat. "Then tomorrow, we keep driving?"

"Yeah," Riku said. "Tomorrow, we keep driving."

The truck disappeared down the forest road, leaving behind the burning tunnel and the echoes of the things still screaming inside it.

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