Chapter 2: Fading Light
Lucien Moreau ran.
The chill of the night air bit at his skin, but the burning in his lungs was all he could focus on. The roar of fast, pounding footsteps echoed off the stone walls behind him—unnatural, relentless. Genet's abominations. They were unlike any walkers he had encountered before. These moved with speed, precision, and a hunger that sent chills down his spine.
He clenched his bag tighter, the only thing he was able to grab in his scramble to escape. The screams came flooding back and he shook his head to clear them. His life depended on his attention to the here and now.
His heart hammered against his chest. Every beat was a countdown. Every step away from the Nest, from Genet and the dead, was one step closer to surviving. But survival seemed like a distant dream with the chaos that had engulfed the ancient stone fortress. Lucien had long since understood that the real danger wasn't just the dead. But this attack, this siege was unexpected. Coming in the middle of the night like a thief. Only it was lives and those of the people he'd grown to love that was being stolen.
The Nest, once his home, was a burning, crumbling memory behind him now. He'd kept his head down for weeks, keeping within him his doubts with Losang and his slow descent into zealotry, but it was Genet who pushed everything to its breaking point.
As he broke free from the castle's walls and onto the muddy tidelands, Lucien's gaze snapped to the horizon. The tide was receding, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. If the water rose, the narrow path would disappear, trapping him before he even reached the mainland. He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of a figure—a shadow moving too quickly for comfort. It wasn't human, not anymore.
His breath quickened. He pushed his legs harder. Thick mud caked to his feet and legs, the added weight causing him to stumble. His toes were already stinging from the harsh cold.
The dark silhouettes of others fleeing through the reeds became clearer the closer he got. Families, individuals, all running, like him. Some stumbled, others carried what little they could, and all wore the same expression: fear.
Lucien didn't dare call out to them. The last thing he wanted was to draw the attention of more of Genet's creations. His heart pounded in his ears, but the fast, guttural groans were louder. He had to get to the mainland. Now.
The mainland ahead was little more than a smudge in the distance, but it represented the only hope of safety. His eyes scanned the path for anything—a vehicle, a boat, anything—that could get him farther away from the nightmare behind. But for now, his feet were the only option, carrying him further into the darkness and further away from the snarls and screams piercing from across the plains.
Lucien emerged from the tall grass that lined the bank of the Couesnon. He'd made his way into the mouth of the river and had decided to stick to the bank to avoid being seen. Surely Genet's troops would be scouring the countryside, trying to eliminate anyone that escaped. Or maybe she just wanted the nest. One could only guess.
She's after the boy he thought. That was the only explanation. And she's willing to take out whoever she needs to make sure she gets him.
He'd had his own doubts about the beliefs that had been staking their claim in The Nest since before his arrival. At one point, he as well had clung to the hope that Laurent would perhaps bring about a miracle. But how? It wasn't enough for him to bet on. This was their world now. What was left of what they previously knew.
He was standing at the edge of a field, looking south. The tall grass moving in waves. He could no longer hear the screams and the moans and the pounding of footsteps. All was quiet now, besides the song of insects, complaining of the cold, and the quiet friction of the grass in the wind. A short distance ahead of him, a structure jutted up from the seemingly endless flat horizon. He paused and turned looking back in the direction from which he'd come. There was a glow in the distance. The lights and fires reflecting off the spattering of clouds and moisture that hung just above the ground.
He pressed forward, and on the second step, there was a snap behind him. He spun around, eyes wide and heart pounding. He stared blindly into the direction of the river. S'il te plaît, mon Dieu… (Please, God…)
He drew his knife.
A face emerged, then another.
"Lucien?" A familiar voice broke through the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he recognized the large frame of Étienne Leclerc emerging from the shadows. A fisherman from The Nest, Étienne had become a reassuring presence during his time there—a grizzled man with a kind heart, always eager to help. Behind him stood Claire Dumont, her soft-spoken demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos around them. Lucien had known her from the kitchen, and despite her gentle nature, an intelligence burned brightly in her eyes.
Lucien's tense posture relaxed some. He held his finger to his lips. "Shhh… Allez!"("Come on!") He whispered, and motioned for them to follow.
The building loomed in the distance, its windows dark, a ghost of its former self. The weather tattered sign that once hung on the cobblestone wall read "Ferme Saint Joseph", Lucien knew it to be a small Bed and Breakfast in its better days, back before the world descended into madness, but for them, for now, it was shelter.
The three of them followed the wall around, Lucien tightened his grip on his bag and approached cautiously, wary of who—or what—might be inside. He crouched under a window, slowly peeking in and around. He motioned, signaling that it was clear, as they made their way around to and in the door. Quietly shutting it behind them. Étienne and Claire followed suit, surveying the room they were in.
Lucien finally allowed himself to exhale, his eyes scanning the dark interior. It smelled of damp wood and dust, but it was silent. For now. He pressed his back against the wall, trying to calm his breathing, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
But he knew the silence wouldn't last.
Nothing did anymore.
"They… they got inside the Nest," Étienne rasped, struggling to find the right words. "We barely made it out. I don't know who else is alive…" His voice trailed off as he glanced toward Claire, her face illuminated by the flickering flames of a small fire they'd built.
After checking the other rooms, they found one that had long ago been an in-ground pool, now empty and offering shelter from prying eyes. They settled down out of sight of the windows, the weight of their situation pressing heavily upon them.
Lucien's stomach twisted with recognition. The same uncertainty that had driven him to flee now weighed heavily in the eyes of everyone gathered sat in silence for a while, the only noise being the small crackling of the tinder, once a nightstand in one of the bedrooms, now their only source of heat. The flickering light cast shadows that danced against the walls, a stark reminder of the warmth and safety they had once known in The Nest.
Lucien broke the quiet, his voice low. "What now? We can't stay here long." He glanced at Étienne and Claire, searching their faces for any hint of a plan.
Étienne rubbed his stubbled chin, his expression heavy with thought. "We need to find other survivors. Maybe there are more who got away." His voice wavered, the weight of their situation hanging thick in the air.
Claire nodded, her brows furrowed.
Lucien's mind raced with the possibilities and dangers that lay ahead. "And what if Genet's forces are looking for us? We can't risk drawing attention." He felt a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach. He had seen too much destruction already.
"We can't just sit here," Étienne replied, his voice rising slightly. "If we wait too long, we'll be trapped. We need to take the chance."
Claire reached out, placing a hand on Étienne's arm. "He's right. But we should be smart about it. Move quietly, stick to the shadows. We can find a safe route East, and away from all this."
Lucien took a deep breath, trying to suppress the uncertainty gnawing at him. "Then we move at first light," he decided, glancing at the darkened windows. "But we need to keep watch. If those things find us here…"
Their conversation was cut short by the sound of an engine roaring in the distance. Lucien and Etienne jumped to their feet. They raced to separate windows, surveying the darkness outside.
"Qu'est-ce que tu vois?"(What do you see?) Claire breathes, her voice carrying up from the pool.
"Shhh!" Étienne hissed, his eyes wide with alarm.
Down the road, from the direction of The Nest, headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the cobblestone courtyard and its surroundings like a spotlight. Lucien's heart raced as he instinctively dropped lower, the flickering shadows dancing wildly on the walls around them.
"Get down!" he hissed, motioning for Étienne and Claire to follow suit. The vehicle's engine growled like a beast, and the unmistakable sound of heavy tires sliding to a crunching stop on the gravel echoed in the night. Lucien chanced another peak. Allowing his eyes to adjust slightly, "There's two of them," he whispered, "they're not in uniforms though."
He caught a hue of red in the moonlight, then his eyes shifted past the first figure to the one on the other side of the vehicle as it climbed out onto the ground. He recognized the broad build and unruly hair almost immediately. Which meant the limp figure he was carrying in his arms could only be one person…
"Sister Isabelle…."