The sun blazed down as if it was completely indifferent to the end of the world.
That is the first thought that struck Chika the moment they emerged from the shadow of the Philosophy building and hit the main campus road.
The December heat felt like an oppressive weight, bearing down on the group of twenty-eight survivors with ruthless indifference.
The air shimmered over the cracked pavement, warping the view of the overgrown trees into what resembled towering skyscrapers.
The furious adrenaline that had propelled Chika during the confrontation in the hallway, the icy clarity that had enabled him to crush a Shambler's skull, dissolved the instant the sun's rays touched his face.
In its place surged a tremendous crash...
His hands began to shake uncontrollably, a violent tremor he couldn't suppress. He shoved them into his pockets to hide it, clenching his fists until his nails pressed into his palms, but the tremors traveled up his arms, settling in his chest as a cold, hollow ache.
"I killed someone... a fellow human being..."
That thought no longer felt victorious. It was sickening. He can still sense the lingering feel of the dark ichor, sticky and warm against his skin, despite having cleaned it off.
"Keep the formation tight," Paul's voice floated back from the front, steady as a clock. "Stay alert for possible ambushes."
The line of survivors shuffled forward.
They moved in a clumsy, noisy rhythm. Twenty-eight people trying to be quiet was almost comical.
Their feet scraped against the gravel, and backpack zippers jingled with every step.
To Chika's sharpened senses, it sounded like a dinner bell echoing across the campus.
Abuchi walked by his side, clutching his blood-stained chair leg. His earlier bravado was breaking under the heavy silence of the outdoors.
"Yo, boss," Abuchi whispered, his voice taut, momentarily ditching the act." You dey see that big tree baa?"("You see that tree? The big one?" )
Chika glanced over. An Iroko tree that had seemed ordinary yesterday now loomed fifty feet tall, its roots crushing a concrete bench beneath it.
"Yeah," Chika replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I see it."
"E con be like say e dey watch is oo"(It looks like it's watching us," )Abuchi mumbled, forcing a grin that looked more like a child trying not to cry. "Or maybe I'm just losing it. Omo, this heat is no joke."( For real this heat is not a joke)
"Focus, Abuchi," Chika urged, though his own voice lacked confidence, sounding uncertain again. "Maybe we should just... keep moving."
He glanced at the survivors huddled in the middle of the group, their legs trembling and hands shaking. They were fixated on Paul, who strode ten meters ahead, knife in hand and broad shoulders braced for any threat, a mix of admiration and fear in their eyes.
To them, Paul was the hero who had cleared the way, a solid figure who seemed to know exactly what to do.
"They had no idea."
"They had no idea."
"They didn't know about the girl in the blue corporate uniform lying in her own blood on the first floor; they didn't know Paul had slit her throat because she was considered a liability."
Chika felt the weight of that secret resting uncomfortably in his stomach, like food stuck in his throat. Only he and Abuchi were aware of it. If they found out, he thought, panic rising in his chest.
"If they knew we left her behind... would they still follow us? Or would they run?"
He peeked at Paul, who moved with the sleek efficiency of a predator, conserving energy and exuding an air of ruthlessness.
Chika respected him, he understood he needed him. But for the first time since they'd met in Row 14 four years ago, fear of him crept in.
"Who are we protecting?" The thought whispered in his mind. "We're protecting the strong. Those who can walk, the ones deemed useful. What happens when one of them sprains an ankle? Does Paul take them out too?"
"Water," a voice groaned from the middle of the crowd.
It is a first-year student, clutching a heavy bag and looking pale. "Does anyone have any water?"
"We need to ration it," Afoma's voice cut in from the back, sounding calm and almost professional, living up to her role as the new logistics expert. "We can't say when we'll find more. Just wet your lips, don't gulp it down."
The harsh reality of thirst hit them hard. They will be trekking four kilometers in thirty-degree heat, no cars, no shade, surrounded by dangers.
Chika wiped sweat from his brow, his glasses slipping down his nose. He pushed them back up, a nervous habit that felt pitiful in that moment.
I'm the Shepherd, he told himself, repeating Paul's words. I took on this responsibility.
But he felt like a fraud. He isn't a shepherd he is a sheep who had panicked and accidentally killed a wolf, and now the flock looked to him for answers he didn't have.
2:20 PM
The heat rippled the air ahead as they passed the Faculty of Arts. The building looking bombed, vines hung down from the roof, and the windows gaped like the jaws of a monster.
Chika scanned the tree line, searching for movement. The Shamblers were fast, yet the System had labeled them... calling them slow when they were indeed too fast for them... at least for now.
He spotted a figure standing in the shade of a warped flamboyant tree.
Chika signaled for a stop, his heart racing. "Paul," he whispered. "Look at three o'clock." It was a code he had taught him.
Paul froze immediately, dropping into a low crouch. The group huddled behind them, trembling.
Chika squinted. The figure was still, merely watching them. A young man in worn clothes.
It took Chika a moment to recognize the outfit, jeans, a plain t-shirt, slightly crooked wire-rimmed glasses.
Chika's breath caught in his throat, his body trembling violently... almost losing his balance.
It was Emeka.
Not the Emeka who had died in his village, or a ghost of any kind... it is Emeka just as he had appeared that night behind Alvan's Hostel. His jaw was swollen, hanging loosely where Danladi had broken it. His left eye was a horrid mess of blood and pulp.
"Emeka?" Chika whispered.
Paul turned around, bewildered. "Chika? What do you see?"
"He's right there," Chika insisted, his finger trembled as he pointed. "Under the tree."
Paul looked, Abuchi looked, and the twenty-eight survivors also directed their gazes in that same direction.
"There's nothing there, boss," Abuchi murmured, eyes wide with disbelief. "It's just a tree."
"He's right there!" Chika's voice rose in pitch, laced with panic. "He's watching us!"
The survivors shifted uncomfortably, their body language broadcasting a collective thought:
"Our leader has lost it!"
The figure beneath the tree grinned, a chilling sight with its shattered jaw.
"You're leading them, Chika?" Emeka's voice didn't emerge from his lips; instead, it echoed directly in Chika's mind, icy and unsettling. "The Shepherd? Nice title you've got there."
Chika clamped his eyes shut. "This has to be a hallucination. It's just the stress and this unbearable heat."
"You abandoned me," the voice continued, casual and cruel. "You fled and left me in darkness. Just like you left that girl on the first floor."
"Shut up," Chika whispered, gripping his head tightly.
"Paul killed her, but you allowed it. You just stood by. You didn't mind, did you? One less mouth to feed, one less burden."
"I had to," Chika protested, his voice wavering. "We couldn't save her, she would have died anyway... Paul spared her from suffering, wherever she is... she's at peace."
"Just like you couldn't save me?" The figure emerged from the shade, untouched by sunlight, casting no shadow. "Who's next on your list, Chika? Tunde? Afoma? Paul? Or maybe even Judy?"
"Chika!"
Paul's hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him urgently.
Chika snapped his eyes open and looked at the tree again, Emeka was gone, leaving only the tree and the shadows it cast.
Paul was right in front of him, concern mingled with a warning in his gaze, silently urging him to regain his composure, they were watching.
"He's alright now, just had a heatstroke," Paul announced loudly to the group, effortlessly spinning a lie to preserve Chika's authority. He then passed Chika a water bottle. "Drink... but take small sips."
Chika accepted the bottle, his hands still trembling, spilling some water down his chin... He took cautious sips. The water was warm and faintly tasted of plastic, but it was soothing.
"I saw..." Chika began, his voice a whisper.
"I don't want to hear what you saw," Paul hissed, keeping his tone low and tense.
Forgetting his not a day old promise of telling Chika that whenever he wants to talk about his zoning out that he is all ears.
"You're the leader. If you crack, they'll crack. If they crack, they'll perish. Understand?"
Chika glanced at the twenty-eight anxious faces. They were looking at him as if he were a ticking time bomb.
When it matters, who will you choose to be?
"I'm fine," Chika fibbed. He straightened up, forcing his posture strong. "I'm fine. It was just a false alarm caused by heat distortion... an illusion."
He caught Abuchi's gaze, which held a peculiar look.
Abuchi recalled the nights when Chika had jolted awake, screaming Emeka's name. It was evident that he was grappling with some deep-seated trauma.
"Let's move," Chika ordered, his voice sharp, betraying the quiver beneath. "We're losing daylight."
2:40 PM
They hadn't even traveled a kilometer. The relentless heat enveloped them, and the foliage seemed to stretch and bend, vines reaching out to entangle their ankles.
Then, a thud echoed from the back of the line, bringing them to a halt.
"One man down!" Afoma shouted.
Chika dashed back, pushing through the weary students.
It was Tunde, the security guard...
The fat man lay on the ground, his face an unsettling gray, his black uniform soaked in sweat. His breath came in short, quick pants, causing his cheek fat to jiggle slightly. His baton rested in the dirt beside him.
"Tunde," Chika knelt next to him. "Tunde, get up."
Was this shock? Heat exhaustion? A heart attack? Tunde didn't appear injured, but his body is succumbing to the strain.
Tunde had witnessed too much death in the hallway, and unlike the students, he isn't young anymore.
"We need to carry him," a student suggested. "Let's take his legs."
"Wait," Paul interjected, approaching Tunde with a calmness that sent chills down their spines. His demeanor was just as analytical and cold as it had been in the hallway before he took the girl's life.
Chika felt his blood run cold. "Is he going to do it again?"
The group fell silent. They might not have known about the girl, but they could sense the threat emanating from Paul.
"He's dead weight," Paul declared. "We can't carry him. We're already moving too slowly. If we take him along, it'll take four people, and that weakens our perimeter. We risk getting caught in the open come nightfall."
Paul glanced at Chika, the message in his gaze unmistakable, you decide.
It felt like the hallway incident once more, but this time an audience surrounded them.
"Do it," the Ghost's voice hissed in Chika's ear. He didn't need to look to know Emeka loomed directly behind him.
"Paul's right, as always. Sacrifice the weak to save the strong. Isn't that what you believe?"
Chika's eyes fell on Tunde, who appeared pitiful. Overweight, aging, and seemingly worthless...
But then a memory surfaced.
On matriculation day, Tunde had been helping lost freshmen find their way to the right hall, laughing alongside them. Tunde was known as the "Heart." If they abandoned him now, they would lose more than just a guard; they would lose their very humanity.
"We can't leave him," Abuchi insisted, his voice rising. He stepped in front of Tunde, raising a chair leg as a makeshift barrier. "No, Paul. We can't do this."
"We have a four-kilometer trek ahead," Paul replied, frustration creeping into his tone. "My wife is waiting. My daughter is waiting. I won't die here because a security guard can't keep up."
The murmurs among the survivors grew, shifting from fear to anger.
"He is making this journey about himself, I can't believe he is this selfish "
"Can we even trust this guy?"
"Like for real dude is still think about wify in this situation, forget about your wife bro"
If Chika sided with Paul, he'd be branded a monster by the group. If he supported Abuchi, he would jeopardize their safety by slowing them down and possibly causing their demise.
Chika studied Tunde's desperate expression, then turned his gaze to Paul, then Abuchi... and finally, the crowd surrounding them.
"We can't leave him," he declared with a weary sigh.
Paul's eyes sharpened.
"But we don't have to carry him," Chika added, his mind racing for a different solution. He knelt closer to Tunde. "Tunde. Listen up."
Tunde groaned, his gaze unfocused. He was teetering on the edge of collapse.
"You have children, right?" Chika asked, his tone firm.
Tunde blinked. "My... boys..."
"They're alive," Chika replied, whether true or not. "They need you. If you die here, who will look after them?"
Tunde's breath faltered.
"This isn't the end," Chika said, holding Tunde's hand. "We're headed to a fortress. There will be food, water, and safety. But you have to walk. You need to get up."
It wasn't making an impact. The man was too far gone, paralyzed by panic and exhaustion.
Chika glanced at his hand, feeling the pulse of Chaos energy surging there. He could unleash Pain Spike to jolt him awake and ignite the adrenaline, but that felt cruel, only a madman would do such a thing...
Then Tunde's grip on Chika strengthened ever so slightly.
"Help me," Tunde whispered. "Just... help me stand."
Chika nodded. He beckoned to the nearest student, a burly guy from Engineering. "Grab his other arm."
Together, they hoisted Tunde upright. The guard swayed, gasping for air, sweat streaming down him.
"I... can walk," Tunde panted. He caught Paul's scrutinizing stare and felt the weight of judgment. With effort, he straightened his uniform, wiping sweat from his brow. For a fleeting moment, a hint of the old Tunde shone through, trying to mask his struggle with a smile.
"Can't let you boys have all the fun," Tunde managed, weakly grinning. "Besides, who's going to write you up for loitering if I'm dead?"
A few students offered shaky chuckles, breaking the tension in the air.
Paul observed for a moment. He didn't smile, but he resumed leading the way.
"You saved one," the Ghost murmured, gradually fading. "But night falls, Chika, you can't save them all."
Chika turned away from the voice. "Move out," he rasped. "We're losing daylight."
They pressed on, but the space between Chika, Paul, and Abuchi had widened. They were progressing together yet feeling increasingly isolated.