The streets of London stretched out before them like a labyrinth of decay, shrouded in the eerie quiet of abandonment. Aiden and Jax moved cautiously through the broken remnants of civilization, their footsteps muffled by the cracked pavement littered with debris. The sun's pale light filtered through heavy clouds, casting long shadows that seemed to shift and twist with every step they took.
Aiden walked ahead, his rifle held firmly in his hands, his eyes scanning every corner and alleyway. Jax followed close behind, his grip tightening on the crowbar he carried. His youthful energy, usually brimming with curiosity and optimism, was subdued under the weight of the silent city. The oppressive stillness was unnerving, as if the streets themselves were holding their breath, waiting.
Aiden: "We're heading toward the outskirts," Aiden said, his voice low but firm. "Residential areas are our best bet—less picked over than the city centre."
(Jax nodded, his eyes darting to the boarded-up windows and hollowed-out doorframes of nearby buildings)
Jax: "Do you think anyone's still... you know, alive in there?"
(Aiden paused for a moment, glancing back at Jax)
Aiden: "Doubt it. If they are, they've probably been here long enough to learn not to advertise it."
They continued down the street, their breaths visible in the cool air. The faint sound of a distant wind echoed through the empty city, occasionally interrupted by the sharp creak of a door swinging on its hinges or the faint groan of something far off—too distant to pinpoint but enough to keep them alert.
(Jax broke the silence again, his voice a whisper)
Jax: "You ever think about what this place must've been like before?"
Aiden didn't answer immediately. His eyes caught the remains of a playground—a rusted swing set, the chains creaking gently in the breeze. He shook his head, pushing the thought away.
Aiden: "Doesn't matter what it was like. What matters is finding what we need."
They reached the edge of a row of houses, their windows dark and lifeless. Aiden raised a hand, signalling for Jax to stop. He crouched low, scanning the area carefully. The streets seemed empty, but experience had taught him that stillness often lied. Walkers could be lurking anywhere—behind doors, inside cars, or just around the corner, waiting.
Aiden: "We'll check these houses," Aiden said, keeping his voice low. "Stay close, stay quiet, and watch your back. You see anything that moves, you call out. Got it?"
(Jax nodded, his expression serious)
Jax: "Got it."
Aiden moved to the first house, its door hanging off its hinges. The inside was dark, the smell of damp rot wafting out to greet them. He pushed the door open cautiously, his rifle at the ready. Jax followed, his crowbar raised, as they stepped into the unknown. The silence inside was suffocating, broken only by the creak of their boots on the warped floorboards. Dust hung in the air, disturbed by their movement, and every shadow seemed to shift in the dim light filtering through the broken windows.
Aiden: "Check the kitchen," Aiden whispered, motioning with his rifle. "I'll take the living room."
Jax nodded, moving toward the back of the house. He tried not to let his imagination run wild as he stepped past overturned furniture and broken picture frames, their faded photos telling stories of a life long gone. In the kitchen, he opened cabinets and drawers, his movements deliberate but swift. Most were empty, but a small stash of canned goods in a hidden compartment brought a flicker of relief.
Jax: "Got something," Jax whispered, holding up the cans as he returned to the front room where Aiden was searching.
Aiden: "Good," Aiden replied, taking a quick glance at the find. "Keep moving. We need more than that."
The house yielded little else of value, and soon they were back on the street, moving toward the next target. The tension between them was palpable now, each creak of the floorboards, each rustling leaf outside setting their nerves on edge. The silence of the city felt heavier with every step, as though something unseen was watching, waiting to strike.
(Aiden turned to Jax, his voice steady but low)
Aiden: "Eyes open. I don't like how quiet it is."
Jax swallowed hard, nodding as they approached the next house. The city's shadows seemed to grow darker, and the distant groans of walkers no longer seemed quite so far away.
The eerie quiet that had accompanied them throughout the morning began to unravel as they approached the third house. Aiden stopped dead in his tracks, raising a clenched fist to signal Jax to halt. The faint sound of shuffling and low, guttural moans began to rise from somewhere nearby, growing louder with each passing second.
Aiden: "Walkers," Aiden muttered, his voice tense but controlled. He motioned for Jax to stay close as his eyes darted down the street, scanning the direction they'd come from and the corners ahead. Shadows moved between the abandoned cars and crumbling storefronts, too many to count. The herds weren't massive yet, but they were forming, drawn by the echoes of distant noise or the faint scent of the living.
Jax: "How many?" Jax whispered, gripping his crowbar tightly as his breathing quickened.
Aiden: "Too many," Aiden replied grimly, his hand tightening around his rifle. "We need to move—now."
They backed away from the house, careful to stay quiet, but the subtle movement must have been enough. One walker stepped out from behind a toppled bin, its lifeless eyes locking onto them. It let out a low, guttural groan, its decayed hands outstretched as it stumbled toward them. Aiden fired a single shot, dropping it instantly, but the sound echoed sharply through the deserted streets, cutting through the air like a gunshot in an empty cathedral.
As if on cue, the shadows around them began to stir. Walkers emerged from alleyways and broken doorframes, their grotesque forms staggering toward the noise, groans building into a haunting chorus.
Aiden: "Go!" Aiden barked, his voice sharp. He shoved Jax forward, the younger man stumbling before finding his footing. They broke into a run, weaving between the wreckage of the street as the herd began to converge. Walkers poured out from unseen corners, their numbers multiplying as the city seemed to come alive with the dead.
Jax: "Where are we going?" Jax shouted, panic edging his voice as he glanced back to see the tide of walkers closing in.
Aiden: "Deeper into the city," Aiden yelled back. "We can lose them in the streets!"
Jax: "Deeper?" Jax's disbelief was clear, but he didn't have time to argue. The dead were too close, their snarls and moans reverberating like a rising tide.
Aiden didn't respond, focusing instead on leading them through the twisting streets. They darted past crumbled walls and burned-out vehicles, every turn feeling like it would lead them straight into another cluster of walkers. He fired off another shot to clear a narrow path, but the noise only seemed to draw more of the herd. Jax swung his crowbar at a walker that got too close, the impact jarring his arms but giving him enough space to keep moving.
The streets began to narrow, towering buildings rising on either side like silent sentinels. The farther they went, the more oppressive the city felt, its abandoned structures casting long shadows that seemed to reach out and pull them deeper into its labyrinth.
Aiden: "This way!" Aiden shouted, leading Jax into a narrow alley. They sprinted through the confined space, the walls on either side covered in peeling posters and graffiti, until they burst out onto another street. The walkers were behind them now, but their relentless groans echoed through the air, reminding them that the dead never tired, never gave up.
Jax: "We can't keep running like this!" Jax gasped, his chest heaving as he leaned against a rusted car, trying to catch his breath.
(Aiden scanned their surroundings, his face grim)
Aiden: "We don't have a choice. If we stop now, we're done."
The sound of shuffling feet grew louder again, and Jax's eyes widened as another small group of walkers rounded the corner. Aiden grabbed Jax's arm, pulling him forward as they broke into another desperate sprint. The streets of London stretched endlessly before them, a maze of decay and danger, with no promise of safety in sight.
The streets of London were becoming a nightmare. Aiden and Jax moved quickly, their backs pressed against the crumbling facades of old shops as the sounds of the dead grew louder around them. The faint hope of finding a safe path through the maze of walkers was rapidly vanishing. Shadows shifted at the edges of their vision, and every corner seemed to birth more of the shambling monsters.
Jax: "They're everywhere," Jax muttered, his voice trembling as he glanced over his shoulder. His grip tightened on the crowbar, his knuckles white.
Aiden: "Keep moving," Aiden ordered, his voice clipped. He was scanning the surroundings, his rifle held tight. The walkers weren't just behind them anymore—they were in front, too. A sickening groan echoed from the far end of the street, followed by another and another, as if the city itself were waking from a deep slumber.
Aiden fired a single shot, dropping a walker that was blocking their path, but the sound only stirred the others. The groans became louder, more insistent, and the tide of the dead began to converge on their position.
Jax: "We're getting boxed in!" Jax yelled, panic creeping into his tone.
(Aiden grabbed his arm, dragging him forward)
Aiden: "This way!"
They darted down a narrow alley, but the sound of shuffling feet and guttural moans was all around them now. The alley opened into a wider street, but instead of safety, they found themselves staring at a crowd of walkers, their decaying faces turning toward them with horrifying synchronization.
(Aiden cursed under his breath)
Aiden: "We're not getting through that."
Jax: "What do we do?" Jax's voice cracked, his fear palpable.
Before Aiden could answer, there was a sudden burst of noise—a loud, echoing yell followed by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Aiden spun toward the commotion, his instincts immediately on high alert.
Stranger: "Down here! Move!" a man's voice bellowed from behind them.
Aiden turned just in time to see a small group of survivors emerge from a hidden passage between two buildings. Gunshots rang out as the group fired into the mass of walkers, cutting down several of the dead with practiced efficiency. The man leading the charge, a broad-shouldered figure with a fire axe in one hand, waved them over.
Stranger: "Get to cover, now!" he barked.
Aiden: "Go!" Aiden yelled, pushing Jax ahead of him as the walkers surged closer. The strangers held their ground, drawing the herd's attention and thinning their numbers with each carefully aimed shot. Aiden fired off a few rounds to help, his sharp aim dropping another handful of walkers before he and Jax reached the group.
Stranger: "Follow me!" the man with the axe ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The group moved swiftly, guiding Aiden and Jax toward a broken stairwell that led underground. Aiden realized, with a jolt of surprise, that they were descending into an old train station beneath the streets of London. The distant groans of the walkers faded as they hurried down the steps, the air growing cooler and stale with every step.
Once they reached the bottom, the man with the axe slammed a metal door shut behind them, securing it with a heavy bar. The group finally allowed themselves a moment to breathe, their faces flushed with exertion. Aiden turned to the man who had led the rescue
Aiden: "Thanks for the save."
(The man gave a curt nod)
Callum: "Name's Callum Harris And you're lucky we were close. Those things would've torn you apart."
(The woman next to him, a wiry, sharp-eyed figure holding a hunting knife, smirked)
Sophie: "They still might if you're stupid enough to wander out there again."
Callum: "Easy, Soph. that is Sophie Carter, she isn't too nice to strangers" Callum said, his tone calm but firm. He glanced at Jax, who was leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath. "You okay, kid?"
(Jax nodded weakly)
Jax: "Yeah... I think so. Thanks."
Another figure stepped forward—a young man with an awkward, quiet demeaner, holding a wrench that was splattered with walker blood. He gave a slight wave.
Jamie: "I'm Jamie Sutton and this is my little sister Emily Sutton"
A girl no older than twelve stepped out from behind Jamie, her wide eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and wariness as she stared at Aiden and Jax.
Lena: "I'm Lena Patel" a calm, older woman said, stepping forward and offering a faint smile. "We've been holding up down here for a while. You're welcome to stay, at least until it's safe to head back out."
Aiden hesitated, his eyes scanning the group. They seemed capable, organized, but trust wasn't something he gave easily. Still, they had just saved his and Jax's lives, and for now, there weren't many other options.
Aiden: "Thanks," he said, his voice gruff. "I'm Aiden, and this is Jax."
Callum: "Pleasantries later," Callum said, hefting his axe onto his shoulder. "We've got a lot to discuss if you want to make it out of this city alive.
The soft glow of early morning filtered through the cracks in the church's weathered wooden boards, casting long shadows over the makeshift camp. Maya crouched by the altar, sharpening her machete with slow, deliberate strokes. The rhythmic scraping sound filled the silence, accompanied by the faint rustling of wind outside.
Ruben sat cross-legged on the floor near the rear pews, fiddling with a small piece of string he had found. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers working absentmindedly as he stared at nothing in particular. Maya glanced at him every so often, her protective instincts kicking in. He looked small and fragile in the vast emptiness of the old church. Leila was sorting through their limited supplies by the front, her movements methodical as she checked the remaining food and water. The expression on her face was grim; they were running dangerously low.
Leila: "They should've been back by now," she muttered, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Maya: "They will be," Maya replied firmly, not looking up from her machete. "Aiden knows what he's doing."
(Leila sighed, straightening up)
Leila: "I don't doubt him. But London's a death trap. We shouldn't have split up like this."
Ruben: "Do you think they're okay?" Ruben's small voice piped up from the back. He didn't look up from his string but stopped fidgeting with it, his focus now on the conversation.
Maya: "They'll be fine," Maya said, injecting confidence into her tone for his sake. "Aiden's tough. He won't let anything happen to Jax—or himself."
(Eli, who had been pacing near the shattered stained-glass window, snorted)
Eli: "That kid is more likely to trip over his own feet than survive out there."
Maya: "Shut it, Eli," Maya snapped, her eyes narrowing. "You're not helping."
Eli shrugged but kept quiet, resuming his restless pacing. The tension in the air was palpable, each of them dealing with their anxiety in their own way. Leila crossed the room, crouching down near Ruben.
Leila: "Hey," she said softly, her voice soothing. "Aiden's your brother, right?"
(Ruben nodded)
Leila: "And he's the one who's kept you safe this long?" she asked.
(Another nod)
Leila: "Then trust him," Leila said with a small smile. "If anyone can make it through that hellhole, it's him."
Ruben managed a faint smile back, but his worry was still clear in his eyes. Leila gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before standing and returning to her spot. The faint sound of distant moans outside made everyone freeze. Eli stopped pacing, his hand drifting to the hunting knife at his belt, while Maya tightened her grip on her machete.
Leila: "Walkers?" Leila whispered, her eyes darting toward the door.
"Could be," Maya murmured. "Stay quiet."
They all listened intently, their breaths shallow, as the groaning grew louder. It wasn't a full horde, but it was close enough to set their nerves on edge.
Eli: "Do we move?" Eli asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Maya: "Not unless we have to," Maya replied. "The doors are secure. They might pass us by."
Ruben clutched his string tighter, his small body tensing as the groans reached their peak before beginning to fade. Slowly, the tension eased, though none of them relaxed completely. Maya let out a quiet breath.
Maya: "We can't stay here much longer," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "We'll give Aiden and Jax until sundown. If they're not back by then... we'll figure something out."
The room fell silent again, the group lost in their thoughts. The church, once a sanctuary, now felt like a fragile bubble waiting to burst. As the sun began its slow descent, hours went past, the fading light cast long, eerie shadows across the interior of the church. Maya stood by the broken window, her machete resting in her hand, while the others quietly prepared for the night. Leila was organizing what little food they had left, Eli was sharpening his knife, and Ruben had dozed off against a pile of worn blankets near the altar. The stillness inside the church was shattered by a sudden, muffled noise from outside. Everyone froze.
Leila: "What was that?" Leila whispered, her hand instinctively reaching for the pistol tucked into her belt.
Maya raised her hand, motioning for silence. She edged toward the door, her muscles taut, every sense heightened. Peering through a small crack in the wooden boards, she scanned the dimming forest. At first, all she could see were the swaying branches of the trees, their shadows dancing in the fading sunlight. Then she saw them.
A group of walkers—at least ten—was staggering through the underbrush, their decaying forms illuminated by the dying light. But something was off. The walkers weren't just shambling aimlessly; they were moving with purpose, drawn by something. Maya's stomach tightened when she realized what it was. A corpse, freshly killed and slung across a low-hanging branch, dangled just outside the treeline. Its lifeless eyes stared blankly, and its chest had been ripped open, exposing the gruesome remains of its innards. A crude symbol—a circle with an "X" slashed through it—was scrawled across its forehead in dried blood.
Maya: "What the hell…" Maya muttered, her voice barely audible.
(Eli joined her, peeking through the crack. His expression hardened)
Eli: "That's not random," he said. "Someone put it there."
Maya: "Someone's watching," Maya said grimly. "And they're not just watching—they're sending a message."
(Leila came up behind them, her face pale)
Leila: "We need to get out of here. Now."
(Maya nodded, her mind racing)
Maya: "We can't wait for Aiden and Jax anymore. We move at first light."
The group exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier tension replaced by a cold, creeping dread. Whoever had left the body—and the symbol—was still out there, and they weren't finished. As darkness settled over the forest and the groans of the walkers grew fainter, Maya turned to the others, her voice steady despite the knot of fear in her chest.
Maya: "Get some rest," she said. "We'll need all the strength we can get for tomorrow."
Ruben stirs in his sleep, muttering something unintelligible as the rest of the group silently prepared for a night filled with unease. The message was clear: the dead weren't their only enemy. Something far worse was lurking in the shadows, and it was only a matter of time before it made itself known.
End of Chapter 3
