Chapter 66: Chapter 66 - Camping Death
After finishing their rounds and checking the turbines, Andrei finally confirmed everything was working fine. They cleaned the frozen gears, now lines were steady and the readings were good. For the first time in days, they could rest a little easier.
They went back deeper into the forest trying to create distance from the frozen horde of zombies.
Hector and Malcolm took the first watch while the others stayed inside the tent, trying to warm themselves. The snow outside had thickened, swallowing most sounds except the soft creak of ice against metal.
Near midnight, Hector nudged Malcolm.
"Go wake Andrei," he said quietly. "We will switch guards so the others can sleep."
Malcolm nodded and stepped inside the tent. He crouched near Andrei, shaking his shoulder gently. "Andrei," he whispered. "Your turn."
Andrei groaned and pulled his blanket tighter.
"Already?" he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.
"Yeah," Malcolm said. "Come on. Hector’s waiting."
A sound cut through the air outside. A short, sharp thud. Then silence.
Malcolm froze, head lifting toward the tent flap. For a moment, he heard nothing but the slow breath of the others.
Then another sound came, faint and wet. A drag across the snow.
Malcolm stood, the unease in his chest tightening.
"Hector?" he called out. No answer.
He pushed through the flap and the cold hit him like a wall. The beam of his flashlight caught the ground, showing streaks of blood scattered in the snow. A trail led away from the camp, dark and uneven.
Behind him, Andrei stumbled out, still rousing. "What happened?" he asked, voice shaking.
Malcolm’s throat tightened. "Hector," he said, looking at the trail.
Andrei gasped at the scene.
Malcolm raised his rifle, finger pressed tight on the trigger as he scanned the yard. The flashlight beam swept over the snow and the edge of the trees. Nothing moved, yet the hairs on his arms stood stiff.
"Wake them up," he said under his breath. "Someone’s here."
Andrei’s voice cracked as he turned toward the tents.
"Shit." He crouched and started shaking the others awake. "Ruben, Kyle, get up. Now."
Malcolm’s breath came in sharp bursts, every inhale colder than the last. The night was too quiet. He could hear the fabric rustle as the others scrambled, boots crunching in the snow.
Then it came again. That click. Quick. Close. From his right.
He swung the flashlight. Nothing. Just a blur of snowflakes and the endless dark.
Andrei came up beside him, rifle trembling in his hands. "What are we going to do?" he whispered.
Malcolm did not answer. The beam of his light swept lower across the ground.
Ruben’s breath caught. "What the fuck," he said, voice cracking. His eyes darted from the ground to the shadows, wide and wild. "What the fuck is that, man?"
Kyle stepped closer, boots crunching over the frozen crust. The light hit a torn sleeve, Hector’s jacket, half buried in the snow. He stopped dead. "That’s his," he said. His voice broke halfway through. "That’s Hector’s jacket."
The wind pushed the scent toward them, sharp and metallic. Kyle gagged, stumbling back, his rifle slipping in his hands. "There’s so much blood," he said. "That can’t be real. That can’t be him."
Ruben grabbed his arm, shaking him hard. "Shut up, shut up," he hissed, though his own voice shook. "Oh fuck. We’re going to die."
Malcolm steadied the flashlight, forcing his breath to slow. The blood glistened in the light, bright against the white. "Stay together," he said, trying to sound calm. "Do not move."
Andrei stared at the trees, his face pale.
"He didn’t even scream."
Malcolm tightened his grip on the rifle.
"Whatever did this, it’s still here."
Andrei cursed under his breath. "Shit, is this the mutant Hector was scared of?"
Ruben took a step back. "We need to move. We can’t stay here."
Andrei shook his head, disbelief mixing with fear. "Move where? We don’t even know who or what did this."
The wind carried the metallic scent, sharp and heavy. The blood looked black under the flashlight’s glow.
Malcolm rose slowly, eyes fixed on the tree line. "Everyone stay together," he said. "Don’t look away from the dark."
The clicking sound answered him from the woods, soft at first, then closer, louder, echoing through the snow.
Malcolm stood with the others in a half circle, their flashlights trembling as they searched the tree line. The forest looked endless, a wall of black that swallowed every bit of light. Each breath he took felt too loud, too alive against the stillness.
The four men stood in a loose half-circle. Malcolm held the center, Andrei just to his left. Ruben hovered a step behind them, his breathing ragged. Kyle was farther forward, closer to the treeline, the beam of his flashlight trembling over the snow.
Then something moved. A shape, low and crawling, slipped between the trees. Kyle saw it first. The rifle cracked before Malcolm could say a word.
BANG.
The sound ripped through the night, sharp and final.
Out of the dark, the thing exploded into view, landing right in front of Kyle.
The snow burst upward under its weight, spraying across the light. Its body unfolded fast, all bone and gray skin stretched thin over muscle. The ribs showed clear beneath the flesh, the veins dark and pulsing. The head was smooth and round, too human and not human at all, the eyes wide and black like glass soaked in oil.
Kyle fell backward, hitting the ground hard, his flashlight spinning from his hand. The beam caught the creature’s face for an instant, and it froze, head tilted as if listening.
Its fingers dug into the snow, long and thin, ending in bloody tips that carved shallow lines as it shifted. The breath that came from its small mouth sounded wet and ragged.
"Fuck," Ruben muttered behind them.
The sound broke the creature’s stillness. It snapped its head toward Ruben, every muscle tightening at once. Kyle was right there, inches away, but it didn’t move toward him. It turned toward the voice instead.
Malcolm saw the way it moved, not toward what it saw, but toward what it heard. He raised his rifle.
"No one make a sound," he said, low and steady.
The mutant faced him as he spoke — then lunged.
He fired.
The bullet punched through its shoulder, spinning it into the snow. It screamed, a high, broken noise that scraped through his skull.
The mutant rose again. Its movements were twitchy, strange. The mouth opened a little, and a series of clicks rolled out, sharp and fast. The sound bounced through the trees, echoing back in thin fragments.
Malcolm held his breath. The creature tilted its head, listening to its own noise, testing for movement. Andrei pressed his hand over his mouth. Kyle’s flashlight wavered near his boot, the beam shaking against the snow. The creature twitched at that, but didn’t attack.
It was searching. Listening.
The clicking slowed. The thing turned its head side to side, confused, as if the air no longer spoke to it.
Malcolm didn’t lower his rifle.
Then it started clicking again, soft and uneven, the sound rippling through the snow like drops in still water. Each click came quicker, searching.
It moved among them.
Malcolm watched in silence as the gray shape slid through the narrow space between their bodies slowly, clicking sound came out of its open mouth. The snow crunched softly under its hands. Its head turned in short jerks, the black eyes staring at nothing.
Andrei stood stiff beside him, face pale, eyes wide with horror. Ruben’s lip trembled as he pressed a shaking hand over his mouth. Kyle was still on the ground, barely breathing, his flashlight lying inches from his boot.
The creature passed so close Malcolm could see the twitch in its jaw, the pulse beating along the side of its neck. It stopped beside Ruben, its face turning toward him, nose almost touching his sleeve. The mouth opened slightly, exhaling a shallow, wet breath that fogged the air between them.
No one moved.
Malcolm’s finger tightened on the trigger. One sound, one breath, and it would strike.
The mutant tilted its head, listening again, its clicks softer now, uncertain.
