Next came the few supplies I could use for trade in the city if necessary. Cigarettes, bullets, small odds and ends. After adjusting the bag, I left it by the wall. Then I took off my dark work gear and put on something simpler.
Almost ready to go.
"Buddy," I called.The dog got up from his bedding and came over, stretching."I have to leave. Maybe for a month, maybe longer. Remember how I taught you to hunt? There's food in your bowl enough for a while. And if it runs out, you know how to get your own."
I gave his muzzle a gentle rub and headed for the garage. Grabbed a canister of gasoline, checked it, and moved toward the exit. As usual, the dog followed. At the doorway I stopped and looked at him.
"Guard," I said.
He froze, then reluctantly returned to the door and lay down, watching me leave. I could see he wanted to run after me but he stayed, just like he'd been taught.
I fueled up the enduro bike, started the engine, and rode onto the road. I had never been inside a quarantine zone before and legally, there was no way in. A smuggler had given me the route; he'd been in and out more than once, scavenging whatever he could in the city and quietly slipping back inside afterward. FEDRA didn't let anyone out only their squads left to patrol the streets, clearing infected and anyone who got in their way.
I'd met him several times and traded supplies for information. The first time was in a hardware store I was scavenging I didn't shoot on sight, and he was unarmed. We talked and parted without trouble.
The raiders were the worst thing around the city. They prowled the roads like rats, hiding from FEDRA, but the moment they saw an opportunity, they'd jump any traveler they found.
There were still people living outside the zone, but fewer every day. The main threat now came from infected packs. They almost never wandered alone anymore they moved in groups, like a single organism, as if they sensed where the living were. And they always went toward them.
I stopped not far from the city. Decided not to rush and scout first. I surveyed the buildings and found a vantage point. Slowly climbed up at times having to squeeze through collapsed sections, gripping ledges to pull myself higher. Once I reached the roof, I took out my binoculars and scanned the surroundings. The city was heavily damaged; after several bombings, FEDRA had tried to clear out the infected but never fully succeeded. Many buildings had collapsed into piles of concrete and rebar, and only the outlines of the streets hinted that life had once flowed here.
The route went through an old mall, then past a row of offices, and farther on a residential complex. From there, you could descend into the sewers and pass beneath the quarantine zone's walls. Soldiers patrolled there, but if you paid, they'd let you through. And if you didn't get caught, you wouldn't have to pay at all.
After climbing back down, I found a place to hide the motorcycle and covered it with old debris. All I carried with me was a Glock. The pistol was hidden under my clothing, along with a hunting knife the least visible items I owned.
Walking through the streets wasn't an option; FEDRA controlled everything, their patrols moved across the avenues constantly. If they spotted me, they might open fire or drag me to their base.The safest way to reach the walls was through the buildings. Otherwise the shooters on the walls could take me out.
Walking along the edge of the street, I heard the sound of an engine. I slipped into a building and climbed inside. The vehicle got closer a reinforced pickup with armored sides, soldiers sitting in the back with weapons ready. Once they passed, I hurried toward the mall.
Inside the mall, I switched on my flashlight and looked around the empty atrium. It was silent, except for the echo of my footsteps. I found the route marker and followed it. Getting through was easy enough, moving past storefronts where scraps of goods still lay scattered. I noticed jewelry strewn across the floor worthless now. Nobody needed things like that anymore. All that mattered these days was food and ammo. Everything else was practically junk.
Part of the wall here had collapsed from bombings, so I crossed into the next building easily, sprinting over a narrow passage. Upon spotting more markers, I realized I had to get higher. Smugglers rarely traveled alone usually in pairs, sometimes in small groups. While one searched or scavenged, the other kept watch; better odds of staying alive that way.
Over time, more and more types of infected began appearing.
The first stage runners. They still look human, but every day they lose more of their mind. Next are the stalkers the trickiest of them all. You could meet them inside buildings, in tunnels, in tight corners. Cautious predators, hiding in shadows, striking without warning.
Then came the clickers. They navigate not by sight but by echolocation: they click, let the sound bounce off objects, and shape the world from the echoes. The fungus twisted their bodies and nervous systems, making them tougher, harder to kill. Their weakness is complete blindness, which is why they prefer to stay indoors rather than outside. And the worst part they share information. The moment one senses something, the sound ripples through them all, and every single one knows there's prey nearby.
I found a cabinet by the wall, dragged it to the gap in the ceiling, climbed onto it, and pulled myself up. Looked like an office building a long hallway stretching ahead, rows of broken, empty offices on both sides. Reaching the end, I went down through a collapsed section of wall and ended up on the first floor again.
At a shattered window, I saw the quarantine zone walls ahead. Guards outside, patrols, snipers in the towers. They still let people in, but far more cautiously than before. Space inside the zone was nearly gone, and anyone trying to force their way in without permission wasn't just detained anymore they were shot on sight.
A little farther along, I noticed a dark patch on the floor.
"Blood," I muttered. "Spilled two days ago. No more than that."
It had dried, but was still visible. Looked like someone had been killed. And since there was no body, either it had been dragged away, or the person had left on their own.I believed the second option more.
Moving carefully, I stepped into the corridor.
Click… click…
A shiver ran down my spine I recognized that sound instantly. I switched off my flashlight at once. In the dimness, through cracks in the walls where beams of outside light slipped in, I saw the silhouette of a clicker. It moved slowly, jerking its head, producing sharp, uneven clicks.
It was possible to pass through clickers as long as you didn't draw attention. They were blind, but incredibly sensitive. Each click was a radar pulse. After it echoed back, the clicker would freeze thinking, in its own way. Those fractions of a second were when you could move.
Click-click…
Judging by the echoes, there were at least four of them here. Maybe more.