They drove until the buildings thinned out and the dense urban sprawl gave way to industrial wasteland. Warehouses with broken windows. Abandoned factories with rusted chain-link fences. Empty parking lots that stretched for blocks.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon, painting everything in shades of orange and red that looked too much like blood.
"We need to stop," Taj said quietly from the back seat. "It's getting dark."
No one wanted to say it out loud, but darkness in this new world was a death sentence. The infected didn't need light to hunt. Humans did.
"Fuel," Samir said. His voice was hollow. Empty. He'd barely spoken since they'd fled from the horde. "We're running on fumes."
As if summoned by his words, the dashboard warning light flickered on. Red. Insistent. The needle on the fuel gauge was pressed against E.
"There." Vikram pointed ahead through the windshield. "Gas station. Two blocks."
It was a small roadside station. The kind that probably hadn't been updated since the nineties. Faded paint. Cracked concrete. Two pumps standing like sentinels under a rusted canopy. The convenience store windows were shattered, glass glittering on the pavement. But it was shelter. And more importantly, it might still have fuel.
The convoy pulled in slowly. Cautiously. Scanning for movement.
Karan's truck stopped near the pumps. Reyan's sedan pulled up beside it, engine ticking as it cooled.
Karan was out before the truck had fully stopped, rifle already up and ready. "Clear the building first," he said, voice clipped and military. "Meera, Dev, with me. Ravi, watch the perimeter."
They moved like a well-oiled machine. Professional. Efficient. Deadly when they needed to be.
Within five minutes, the all-clear came.
The group gathered in the parking lot as twilight deepened around them. Weapons drawn. Nerves frayed. Everyone looked exhausted. Haunted.
"What in God's name was that thing?" Arjun asked. His voice was still shaky. "It screamed so loud I thought my eardrums would burst."
Reyan was leaning against the car, one hand on his daughter's shoulder. "We've run into them before. The ones that scream. They draw the others. Like some kind of alarm system."
Meera, who'd taken the shot that killed it, frowned. "It sounded like an air raid siren had a baby with a banshee."
"Exactly," Vikram muttered. "Loud and wrong."
Taj adjusted his cracked glasses, and despite everything, a faint grin touched his lips. "We should give them a name. You know, for clarity. How about Banshees? Or maybe the Shut-The-Hell-Up-I'm-Trying-To-Think-ers?"
Despite the tension, a few people managed weak laughs.
"Banshees works," Vikram said. "Or Wailers."
"I like Wailers," Arjun put in. "Because that's what they sound like. Pure grief turned into noise."
Karan listened to them debate, his expression thoughtful. Finally he spoke up, cutting through the discussion. "We need something we can use quickly. On the radio. In the moment. No confusion." He paused, considering. "The sound is the weapon. It calls the horde. So we call them Heralds."
"Heralds?" Taj asked.
"Yeah. Heralds of the horde." Karan's voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "They announce what's coming. They herald the end."
The group fell silent. The weight of the name settled over them.
"Heralds," Reyan repeated. "I like it. Simple. Clear. And it reminds us what they do."
"Agreed," Meera said. "Heralds go down first. Always. Before they can call the others."
Everyone nodded. It was decided.
Dev—the youngest of Karan's group, nervous energy radiating off him like heat—moved toward the pumps. "I'll check if these still work. If the power's on, if someone hasn't drained them already—"
"We try," Karan said. "While there's still light. After dark, we fortify. The convenience store has a back room. We can barricade it. Sleep in shifts."
"Sleep," Taj muttered. "Right. That thing we used to do before our brains forgot how."
Reyan set his daughter down carefully, keeping one hand on her shoulder. She hadn't let go of her rabbit since they'd fled the horde. "We need to talk," he said to Karan. "All of us. About tomorrow."
Karan nodded slowly. "The sister."
"Her name is Nisha," Samir said. There was an edge to his voice now. Sharp. Defensive. "And yes. We need to talk about her."
"We saw that horde," Karan said carefully. Diplomatic. "There's no getting through that. Not with what we have."
"I know." Samir's hands clenched into fists. Unclenched. Clenched again. "I know. But I can't just leave her there. I need to know. Even if it's bad. Even if she's—" He couldn't finish the sentence.
"We'll help," Reyan said.
Every head turned toward him.
"Tomorrow," Reyan continued. "We regroup. We plan properly. We find another route. Maybe there's a way through the underground tunnels. Maybe the horde moves during the night. But we don't abandon her. Not yet."
"Even if it's dangerous?" Vikram asked.
"Especially if it's dangerous," Taj added quietly. "Because that's what you do for family."
Arjun, who'd been silent through most of this, spoke up. His voice was stronger now. More certain. "I don't know any of you. Not really. But you stopped for me when you didn't have to. You saved my life. So whatever you need—whatever we're doing tomorrow—I'm in."
Meera studied them all with sharp, calculating eyes. "You all realize this is insane, right? Risking ten people to maybe save one?"
"Eleven people," Reyan's daughter said quietly.
Everyone looked at her.
"If we find Aunt Nisha," she continued, her small voice carrying in the quiet, "there will be eleven of us."
The use of "Aunt" wasn't lost on anyone. Samir looked at the little girl, and something in his expression cracked. Softened.
"Eleven people," he repeated, his voice thick. "A family."
"Still insane," Meera said. But she was smiling slightly now. A small, tired smile. "Fine. We'll help. But we do this smart. We need better weapons. Better intel. A real plan this time."
"And fuel," Dev called from the pumps. "Let's see if these things still work."
They scattered to their tasks. Some checking the pumps. Others fortifying the convenience store. All of them moving with the efficiency born from learning that standing still meant death.
Reyan found himself alone with Samir for a moment, standing near the edge of the lot where the light was failing fast.
"Thank you," Samir said quietly. "For not giving up on her."
"We're not giving up on her," Reyan corrected. "But Samir... you need to be prepared. That horde. The location. The time that's passed since you talked to her. She might not—"
"I know," Samir interrupted. His jaw was tight. "I know the odds. But I have to see for myself. I have to know. Does that make sense?"
Reyan thought about Priya. About the moment he'd realized she was infected. About the knife in his hand and the impossible choice he'd had to make. About holding her as she died.
"Yeah," he said softly. "It makes sense."
A shout came from the pumps. Vikram's voice, excited. "We've got fuel! Power's still on!"
A cheer went up from the group. Small. Weary. But genuine.
It was something. A win, however minor. In a world where wins were increasingly rare.
As they refueled the vehicles and prepared for nightfall, Arjun found himself standing beside Taj near the edge of the lot. Both of them looking out at the darkening city in the distance.
"I keep thinking I'll wake up," Arjun said. "That this is just a nightmare. That I'll open my eyes and Meena will be there making chai and complaining about the neighbor's dog."
"Me too," Taj admitted. He was quiet for a moment. "I saw my parents."
Arjun looked at him. "What?"
"When we were at Reyan's building. I saw them. My parents. They live in Kolkata. They shouldn't be here. But I saw them clear as day, and I followed them." He laughed bitterly. "Almost got me killed."
"Hallucinations?"
"Something like that." Taj adjusted his glasses. The crack in the lens caught the fading light. "It's the stress. The trauma. Brain trying to make sense of things by showing us what we want to see."
"Or maybe," Arjun said slowly, "it's something worse."
Taj looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"What if the infection affects us even without being bitten? What if it's airborne? In the water? What if we're all slowly going insane and we don't even know it yet?"
The question hung between them. Heavy. Terrifying.
Taj didn't have an answer. Neither of them did.
Inside the convenience store, Karan was organizing the watch schedule. He'd found a notepad behind the counter and was writing it out with military precision.
"Two-hour shifts," he said, reading from his notes. "Two people awake at all times. Ravi and Dev, you take first watch. Meera and I take second. Reyan and Samir, third. Taj and Vikram, fourth." He looked at Arjun. "You rest. You've been through enough today."
"I can take a watch," Arjun protested.
"You will," Karan said firmly. "Tomorrow. Tonight, you rest. That's an order."
Arjun was too tired to argue. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Every muscle ached. His mind felt foggy and slow.
They settled in as darkness fell completely outside.
The back room of the convenience store was cramped and smelled like stale cigarettes and spilled soda. Old promotional posters peeled from the walls. Empty cardboard boxes were stacked in one corner. But it was defensible. One door. Easily barricaded. No windows.
More importantly, it had supplies. Water bottles. Snacks. Canned food. Not much, but more than they'd had an hour ago.
Reyan's daughter fell asleep almost immediately, curled up with her head on her father's lap. Reyan stroked her hair absently, staring at nothing. His eyes were distant. Haunted.
"We're going to make it," Samir said softly from across the room. Speaking to himself as much as anyone else. "We're going to find Nisha. Get out of this city. Find one of those safe zones everyone keeps talking about. We're going to survive this."
"Yeah," Reyan said. But his voice was flat. Empty of conviction.
Outside, the infected groaned and shuffled through the darkness. Hunting. Learning. Evolving into something worse with each passing day.
And somewhere in the city, two kilometers away through an ocean of the dead, Nisha either waited or didn't wait or couldn't wait anymore.
Tomorrow would tell them which.
Arjun lay on the floor with his back against the wall, the kitchen knife beside him within easy reach. He closed his eyes but sleep wouldn't come.
Every time he started to drift off, he saw Meena's face. The moment her eyes went white. The moment she told him to run. The moment he'd left her behind in that alley.
He wondered if Nisha was still alive. Wondered if Samir would get the closure he needed or just more pain.
Wondered how long any of them could keep doing this before the weight of it all crushed them completely.
Outside, something scraped against the wall of the building. Everyone tensed. Hands went to weapons.
But the sound moved on. Just one of them. Wandering. Searching. Not finding.
Not yet.
They had survived another day.
Tomorrow they'd try to survive another.
That was all anyone could do now.
One day at a time.
One breath at a time.
Until the days ran out.