Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 49: _ Lucas

The night is filled with the kind of quiet that isn’t safe. The kind that makes your skin itch because you know something is out there... waiting.

Trish and I move in sync, stepping over loose stones and dried blood patches as we creep toward the cave entrance. The others stay behind, shadows hunched in the low light, their silence just as heavy as the air.

I keep my knife raised and my grip tight enough that the leather-wrapped handle digs into my palm. Trish mirrors me, her blade shining faintly in the sliver of moonlight creeping through the cave mouth.

Outside, the shuffling grows louder. The moment I step out, a rancid smell hits me first. It is thick, rotten, and hard to miss.

One I knew quite well belongs to Zombies.

I exchange a glance with Trish. She crinkles her nose. "Shit."

I nod. "Yeah."

Carefully, we inch forward until we’re fully outside. The cave entrance looms behind us like a gaping mouth, but out here, the real monsters shuffle and groan.

There are about half a dozen of them with their skin sagging, their jaws working uselessly as they reach for something on the ground. The moonlight isn’t generous, but I can see enough: their backs are hunched, their fingers clawing at the dirt, their rough snarls low and hungry.

And there, beneath them, is movement.

Something, or someone... is trapped under a hole in the ground, just barely out of reach.

Okay, I’m not interested in saving anyone, but in case the zombies might attack them and they scream, we need to save them and ensure decorum.

Trish angled her body toward me, whispering. "You seeing this?"

I nod, already calculating. "They’re distracted."

"Yeah, but that won’t last."

She’s right. The second one of them realizes we’re here, we go from lucky bystanders to dinner.

I take a breath, keeping my voice low. "We take them out fast. No noise if we can help it."

Trish rolls her shoulders, her fingers flexing around her knife. "You take left, I take right?"

I smirk. "Like always."

Then, we get to work.

I dart to the left, my feet almost making no sound on the dirt. I raise my knife and step into the blind spot of the first zombie. Its head lolls to the side, its milky eyes locked on whatever it’s reaching for beneath the hole.

It’s too slow which is a good thing.

I drive the knife into the base of its skull. It’s quick and clean. The zombie seizes, fingers twitching, and then drops.

One down.

Trish moves just as fast, ducking under a swiping arm before burying her blade into another’s temple. She grunts as she wrenches it free, shoving the body aside before it can fall on her.

Another zombie growls, turning toward me.

Its face is barely a face anymore; just flaps of torn skin and exposed bone. A chunk of its lower jaw is missing, but that doesn’t stop it from lunging.

I sidestep, bringing my knife up, but my foot catches a rock.

Shit.

I stumble. The zombie snarls, grabbing for me before something intervenes before I can blink.

It’s Trish.

She kicks the zombie’s knee in, the crunch of breaking bone loud enough to make my stomach turn. The thing collapses with a shriek, and before it can react, she stomps down on its skull, crushing it into the dirt.

I blink. "Damn."

Trish flicks zombie guts off her boot, panting. "You good?"

"Yeah. Almost died, but you know—happens."

She smirks. "That’s what I’m here for."

We refocus. Three more to go.

One of them finally notices us. It lets out a strangled moan and starts stumbling forward, but it’s slow. Predictable as they can be.

Trish and I exchange a look then we charge.

Trish goes high, slicing across its throat before plunging her knife into the top of its head.

I go low, slicing through a rotting Achilles tendon and sending another zombie sprawling before finishing it off with a brutal stab to the skull.

The last one barely has time to react before Trish whips a throwing knife into its forehead.

After that last kill, there is silence.

The only thing left is the wet squelch of flesh hitting the ground and the sound of my own heavy breathing.

I wipe my blade on my pants, ignoring the smear of blackened blood. "Six for six."

Trish surveys the mess. "Yeah. We’re pretty badass."

She turns toward the hole, stepping over a severed limb. I follow, my grip tightening around my knife just in case.

Something moves beneath the opening.

Trish leans down, squinting. "The hell...?"

Whatever or whoever the zombies were trying to reach is there.

Trish jerks back, knife raised, but before we can decide on what to do next, a boy scrambles out. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

He’s young. Also no older than sixteen. Filthy, rail-thin, eyes wide and terrified. His hands shake as he pushes himself up, coughing.

His breath is ragged. His clothes are torn. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in days.

The second he sees us, he freezes. We freeze too.

Trish and I stare at him. He stares at us. The wind whistles through the trees.

A young boy all alone in the apocalypse, surrounded by zombies and hiding in a hole shouldn’t be a shocking factor in the apocalypse.

Finally, I break the silence. "Well. That’s not what I was expecting."

The kid sways, gulping air. "P-Please..."

His voice is hoarse and almost not audible. His lips are cracked. His fingers dig into the dirt, like he’s bracing for us to strike him down.

Trish crosses her arms. "You’re not a zombie."

The kid just stares.

I sigh, rubbing my face. "Great. Now we have a kid."

The boy flinches.

Trish glares at me. "Jesus, Garth, could you sound any less welcoming?"

I hold up my hands. "Sorry. I’m just..." I gesture at the literal graveyard around us. "...a little overwhelmed."

Trish crouches, keeping her knife visible but not raised. "Hey, kid. You got a name?"

The boy gulps. He doesn’t trust us, and like hell, I don’t trust anyone. Not even a teenager.

"Lucas."