Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 42: _ Something is Coming

The roar is unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. It’s deep and glottal, like the earth itself just growled in warning.

It’s not human and I know it doesn’t belong to an animal. I’m not even sure a zombie can sound like that. It’s something else. Something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up.

We freeze.

Benji, for once, isn’t smiling. Trish grips her knife tighter. Vic and Dom actually shut up for once.

The zombies—our zombies... the ones we were just busy hacking into mush, suddenly lose all interest in us. Their milky, vacant eyes turn toward the sound. As if answering a call, they stagger away from us, limbs jerking, heads lolling, and their focus changing entirely.

And that is new.

"What the fuck," Trish breathes, staring as the undead limp away.

Benji shifts beside her, his usual easy-going smirk gone and his expression is now that of alertness.

"Yeah, that’s... not normal." He shakes his head.

Dom, panting hard, waves a bloody bat in the direction of the retreating undead. "Are we not good enough for them anymore?"

Vic wipes at his ear, grimacing, like he expects another worm to crawl out. "It’s calling them," he says. "Whatever it is."

How did he even know that? Anyway, I don’t know if that’s true. In fact, I don’t want to know. I want to live.

"Move," I say.

Trish turns to me. "But what if..."

"No." I cut her off. "No ’buts.’ We’re not waiting to see what that is. We run."

And just like that, we turn and bolt.

The trees blur past us as we sprint through the forest, ducking low branches, and trampling through thick undergrowth. The ground is uneven, filled with roots and debris, but adrenaline keeps us from falling.

The forest isn’t silent. It is far from it. The distant roar still remains, vibrating in my bones. The sound of shifting zombies that are no longer chasing us, but heading toward something else echoes in the darkness.

And then there are the other zombies. The stragglers. The ones still caught in trees, tied up in traps, or simply wandering aimlessly.

We don’t stop for them. Any that get in our way, we cut down without hesitation.

Benji dodges a grasping hand and stabs his knife straight through an undead’s forehead. Trish slices another across the neck, severing its head in a clean arc. Vic, despite his earlier whining, swings his bat with everything he has, cracking open skulls like overripe melons.

Dom? He’s mostly just screaming and running. Which, honestly, is the right call.

"Faster!" I shout, urging them forward.

The trees begin to thin out as we run, and then, we stumble on the last thing we expect here in the heart of the woods.

It’s a camp. Or at least, something trying to be a camp.

It’s not much. I can see a few barricades made from stacked metal scraps, wooden planks, and anything else scavenged from God knows where. It’s not heavily fortified, but it’s clear that someone is living here.

For a moment, hope flickers in my chest. We have found a place, a refuge, and maybe we...

Snap. We hear the sound of something clicking through flesh and then...

"GAH! SHIT!"

Vic’s scream echoes loudly. I turn around just in time to see him yanked into the air—his foot caught in a snare while a crude rope trap snaps shut around his ankle.

He dangles upside down, swinging wildly, arms flailing as he cusses up a storm. Today must be Vic’s unlucky day.

"Oh, come on!" Dom yells, already moving toward him.

But before he can reach his brother, Click.

A dozen red laser dots suddenly appear on us.

Guns.

The camp isn’t empty.

Figures step out of the shadows, weapons raised, faces grim. There are at least ten of them. I’m sure there are more in the camp.

Well. Shit.

.

.

.

Vic is still screaming. "Oh my God, my ankle! HELP! Somebody get me down!"

Trish and Dom instinctively move toward him, but they are halted by a gruff warning.

"Move and you’re dead," a rough voice warns.

It’s a man. He should be in his early forties, built like a tank, and wearing scavenged military gear. His rifle is steady, aimed right at us. The others behind him look just as hardened.

Dom throws his hand in the air in exasperation. "Are you people crazy?! You don’t see my brother dangling like a goddamn piñata?"

The man smirks. "We see him."

Trish narrows her eyes. "Then get him down."

No one moves as if Vic is right where he belongs.

"If you can’t, just let us get him down." I put forward, raising my hands in a peace gesture.

Then one of them, who is a woman who is tall and lean, lets out a cruel chuckle. "It’s bold of you to assume that trap was meant for zombies."

Oh, God. No. It can’t be what I’m thinking about right now.

Benji stiffens, gripping his gun tighter. "...What?"

The woman gestures lazily at Vic, who’s still struggling. "That trap? That wasn’t for the dead."

I keep saying it; in the apocalypse, humans are worse than zombies, black worms, and the virus itself. The chances of suffering a death incurred by humans are seventy-five percent higher than that of the zombies.

Imagine running from an unknown threat just to be faced with people who will also likely face the same threat but all that is running in their heads is how much of a fine meal you’ll make.

This is sick.

Then Trish’s voice is sharp as she blurts out in wonder. "You trap people?"

The woman shrugs. "People are a pain in the ass."

Vic groans, still swinging upside down. "So are zombies and their black worms, but we’re not hanging them from trees!"

Benji tilts his head, watching the group carefully. "Let me guess... you’re cannibals?"

No one denies it which further cements my hypothesis and the truthfulness of Benji’s question.

Trish inhales, rubbing her forehead like this is giving her a bad headache. "You eat people?"

Just when you think the apocalypse can’t get any worse!