Jonathan was sleeping like a tree log. Przemek had tried kicking him awake twice now because of his snoring, which had been loud enough to wake Sofia and set all three of them on edge. They feared it would draw unwanted attention. Thankfully, Jonathan had quieted down, but Sofia couldn’t get back to sleep. She lay on an old sofa, staring at Przemek as he sat in a camping chair by the window, his rifle leaning against the wall beside him.

  Through the faint moonlight filtering in, she saw his lips move occasionally, muttering words she couldn’t understand. It wasn’t Polish—it sounded more like German, but she wasn’t sure. His face was bruised, a faint shadow of swelling over his cheekbone and a scrape near his temple, but his expression was distant. He noticed her staring and looked over.

  “Try to sleep,” he said softly. “Long days ahead of us.”

  “Shouldn’t you be sleeping, then?” Sofia countered.

  “In an hour, I’ll wake him up to take over.” Przemek gestured with his head toward Jonathan, still sprawled out and snoring lightly.

  Sofia glanced at the door, her unease growing. “Are you sure we’re safe here?”

  “Don’t worry,” Przemek replied. “If anyone comes through that door, we’ll hear it. I made sure of it.” His tone was calm but laced with a faint edge, as though trying to convince himself as much as her.

  For a moment, silence settled between them. Then Przemek broke it. “Where are you from?”

  “Malm?,” Sofia said.

  “I know that,” Przemek replied. “But where are your parents from?”

  Sofia sighed. If she had a penny for every time someone asked her that question, she’d be rich. “My dad’s from Bosnia, but I’ve lived my whole life in Sweden. What about you?”

  “Poland,” Przemek said simply.

  “You said something earlier,” Sofia pressed. “Didn’t sound like Polish.”

  Przemek shrugged. “My mother and her family are Jewish. I often say things in Hebrew or Yiddish. Force of habit more than anything religious. Is your dad Muslim?”

  “He used to be, but he wasn’t the religious type,” Sofia said, relaxing slightly.

  “Bosnia’s a gorgeous country,” Przemek said, his tone softening. “I traveled through there once.”

  Sofia scoffed. “They used to send me there for weeks at a time to stay with my grandparents. Got sick of it, to be honest.”

  Przemek nodded but didn’t respond, staring back out the window. The rain continued its steady rhythm on the roof, masking other noises outside.

  “What brings you here? Why aren’t you in Poland with your family?” Sofia asked after a moment.

  Przemek’s face tightened. He didn’t answer at first, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the window. Finally, he said, “Don’t have any family left. None that matters.”

  “Still, why come to Sweden?”

  “Well, it’s bad down south,” he said vaguely.

  “How bad?”

  “How bad?” Przemek repeated, his voice tinged with bitterness. “I’ve seen things during the war, but nothing came close to what I saw in Germany alone.”

  “Like what?” Sofia asked, hesitantly.

  “Like what? You’ve probably seen it on the news or online, but none of that prepares you for what it really was. Slaughterhouse after slaughterhouse. Even the so-called ‘sane’ people did things that could drive anyone mad. Doesn’t surprise me that people picked up pickaxes and shovels to massacre each other. I came close to putting a pistol in my mouth—that’s how bad it was.”

  He paused, staring into the rain, his face tight with suppressed emotion.

  “One time,” he continued, his voice lower now, “I was in a camp. They told all the Africans to report for some ‘health check.’ I knew something was off. They hadn’t even given those folks a bowl of rice, and suddenly they wanted to make sure they didn’t have fleas or some shit. They machine-gunned everyone. Men, women, children. All of it because two young guys had raped someone, apparently.”

  Sofia’s breath caught in her throat, but she stayed silent, letting him continue.

  “Another time,” Przemek said, his voice distant, “I was hanging around a camp outside an army-run refugee site. The camp inside the walls was full, so people set up outside. Just desperate folks with nowhere else to go. The army warned them to leave—said they were drawing madmen to the area. But they didn’t leave. They had nowhere to go. One day, around noon, when everyone was out in the open… they fired mortar shells. Opened fire from the walls. Wasted good mortar rounds on starving refugees.”

  Sofia stared at him, unable to find words. Przemek kept his eyes on the window, but she could tell he was avoiding her gaze.

  “Do you have any cigarettes?” he asked suddenly, breaking the tension.

  Jonathan stirred on the sofa, groaning as he pulled a small box from his cargo pocket and tossed it over without fully waking. “Found that back in Copenhagen,” he muttered sleepily. “Before we crossed.”

  Przemek caught the box and inspected it. “Explains why they’re in shit shape,” he said with a faint smirk. He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before offering one to Sofia. She shook her head politely.

  “Did you run into a lot of those madmen?” Sofia asked, her voice quiet.

  “Physical contact? A few times, yeah,” Przemek said. “But honestly, it’s more the sane folks you have to worry about. These last few days, though? Never seen anything like it. Jonathan told you about our escape from Copenhagen?”

  Sofia nodded. “He mentioned it.”

  “I’ve come close to dying before, but that night was something else entirely,” Przemek said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “What about you?”

  Sofia hesitated before answering. “Early on, I was taking the bus home. I was at the train station when one of them attacked someone. Saw it on top of a man, blood everywhere. I ran into a shop with some other people and held the door shut while it banged on the glass, trying to get in. The cops showed up eventually and shot it. It had killed an old man and sent someone else to the ICU. After that, I stayed home. A week later, the lockdowns started.”

  Przemek nodded slowly, taking another drag. “That’s what it always is,” he said. “People thinking they’re safe until they’re not.”

  The rain continued to fall, drowning the silence between them. Sofia leaned back on the sofa, her eyes heavy but her mind too restless for sleep. Przemek stared out the window, his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark, his expression unreadable.

  “What do they blame it on in Sweden?” Przemek asked, his voice low as he sat by the window.

  “Same as everywhere else. No one knows. The religious fanatics have their explanation, and the scientists and government have jack shit,” Sofia replied, shifting on the sofa. Her voice carried a bitter edge, tired of the same conversations repeated over and over.

  Przemek lowered his head beneath the window to light his cigarette, cupping his hand around the flame. He sat back up, careful to hide the glow of the cherry as he took a long drag. “What do you think it is?” he asked.

  Sofia thought for a moment. “Honestly? I think people just lost it. All the pressure, the chaos... I think it broke them.”

  Przemek chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly warm. “You’re the only one I’ve met who shares that belief with me,” he said, looking at her with a faint smile. For a moment, they exchanged a warm, understanding glance before Przemek turned back to the window.

  “But it’s more than just madness,” he continued, his tone growing darker. “They don’t seem just crazy. Sure, they go down if you hit them hard enough. They stagger, they need food. But something’s... wrong. Saw one of them get its arm hacked off, and it didn’t scream. They can stand for hours in the pouring rain without flinching. And don’t even get me started on their eyes.”

  The room fell silent at the mention of their eyes. Neither of them wanted to talk about it—it didn’t feel real, and yet it haunted their nightmares.

  “They seem organized,” Sofia said finally, breaking the silence.

  “Oh, yeah,” Przemek agreed. “They’re wicked smart. I’ve fought people dumber than them. Never heard them speak to each other, but they’re damn good at ambushes.”

  The uneasy mood lingered, and Sofia decided to shift the subject. “What did you do before all of this?” she asked.

  “Contractor,” Przemek said. “I was in the army before, then I worked on construction sites and did some welding. Paid well, but I never had time to enjoy the money. You?”

  Sofia sighed. “I was a chiropractor. Thought I’d have my own hours, but I worked a lot and barely broke even.”

  Przemek smirked, but before he could respond, his expression shifted. He raised a hand to hush her, his posture tensing as he pointed outside. Two figures were walking toward the front gate, barely visible through the rain. Przemek crouched low, motioning for Sofia to do the same.

  “Wake up Jonathan. Quietly,” he whispered, his hand steady on her shoulder.

  Sofia nodded and crept to Jonathan, who was sprawled out on the floor. She shook him gently, and his eyes opened with a start. He looked at Sofia, reading her expression immediately, and quietly got to his feet. Together, they crouch-walked to Przemek by the window.

  “How many?” Jonathan whispered.

  “Four,” Przemek muttered. “That we know of.”

  "Fuck, I left the MAG in the other room." Przemek added

  Before he could finish his sentence, the door handle rattled. The three froze, their breaths caught in their throats. The door was locked, but the person on the other side wasn’t giving up. The rattling grew louder, turning into frustrated shaking. The whole doorframe shuddered as the intruder started slamming against it.

  Sofia pointed toward the backroom on their right. The trio grabbed their weapons and moved in silence, crouching low as they made their way into the kitchen. The door continued to shake violently behind them, the sound echoing over the pounding rain. They slipped into the kitchen and crept toward the washroom at the back, Przemek closing the door behind them just as the entrance door burst open.

  Jonathan crouched near a crack in the washroom door, giving him a partial view of the kitchen and the door leading to the rest of the building. Black figures moved inside, their shapes barely distinguishable in the darkness. Jonathan strained his eyes, trying to count them. The figures were unnervingly silent, save for the sound of their footsteps.

  He glanced at Przemek and gestured toward his chest rig. Przemek caught on, his hand moving to a pocket where he kept a hand grenade. As he opened it, the Velcro tore loudly in the silence, making both Sofia and Jonathan wince.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Jonathan focused hard, his eye glued to the crack. He counted the figures entering the kitchen—two shadows at first, then two more. He cursed under his breath, unsure if he’d missed one or two in the darkness. If they were too close to the washroom door, there wouldn’t be enough room to throw the grenade safely. If there weren’t enough of them in the kitchen yet, they’d have to deal with the rest in the dark.

  When two more shadows entered, Jonathan looked at Przemek and nodded. Przemek nodded back, gripping the grenade tightly. Jonathan eased the washroom door open, just enough for Przemek to throw the grenade. Przemek lobbed it into the kitchen and quickly shut the door.

  The explosion shattered the silence, a deafening roar that rattled the entire facility. Jonathan shoved the door open and flicked on his headlamp, charging into the kitchen. Dust filled the air, and the acrid smell of burnt flesh and blood hit him instantly. He saw three figures near the table. Two had been blown apart, their legs shredded and torsos in tatters. A fourth figure clawed at its own face, writhing on the floor.

  Jonathan aimed his rifle and fired two shots into its head, ensuring it stayed down. Another figure rushed into the kitchen, but Przemek took it down with a burst of gunfire, the sharp cracks echoing off the walls.

  Pushing into the next room, Przemek was met with a sudden attack—a chair thrown from the shadows hit him in the chest, and an assailant grabbed his FNC rifle. Przemek headbutted the attacker, making them stumble back, and fired a burst into its chest.

  Jonathan moved quickly, slamming the door to secure the room. “They really worked on this door,” he muttered. “Had an easier time opening it than we did.”

  Przemek peeked out a window toward the gate. “Grab your stuff,” he said urgently. “Let’s go before more arrive.”

  Sofia and Jonathan nodded, gathering their gear.

  As Jonathan secured his backpack, Przemek approached Sofia, his eyes scanning her submachine gun. “Let me see that m/45,” he said, reaching for it. After checking it over, he nodded. “It’s all good to go. Now, see that wall? Shoot at it.”

  Sofia frowned. “Why?”

  “I want to make sure you’re not scared of using that damn weapon,” Przemek said, his tone firm but not unkind.

  She hesitated but eventually lifted the m/45, her fingers tightening around the grip. With a deep breath, she aimed at the wall and squeezed the trigger. The shot cracked through the air, the recoil barely noticeable. She looked surprised but quickly fired a few more rounds in quick succession.

  Przemek smirked. “Alright, that’s it for now, go??b. Don’t be scared to use it if you need to.”

  Before Sofia could respond, Jonathan’s voice rang out. “Przemek! Your machine gun!” He was by the window, motioning urgently.

  Przemek moved to grab his weapon, but Sofia froze, her attention snapping to a noise outside. A dark green vehicle, similar to the military one they had destroyed back in Malm?, barreled toward the building. It skidded to a stop, and Sofia’s stomach dropped as she saw the mounted machine gun on its roof swivel toward them.

  “DOWN!” she screamed, shoving Przemek to the floor and diving next to him. The vehicle unleashed hell.

  The windows shattered instantly, glass and debris flying through the room as the machine gun tore the building apart. The ceiling buckled under the onslaught, sending chunks of plaster and wood raining down. Jonathan let out a blood-curdling scream, clutching his ears as the relentless noise pounded through them.

  It felt like an eternity before the gunfire stopped.

  “OUTSIDE! NOW! STAY LOW!” Przemek yelled, dragging Jonathan to his knees as Sofia crawled toward the door. The machine gun started up again, sweeping the building from left to right. The structure groaned under the strain, and the upper ceiling collapsed with a deafening crash, sending choking clouds of dust and debris into the air.

  Sofia felt a shard of glass slice through her pants and into her knee. She winced but pushed the pain aside, her terror driving her forward. She was the first to make it out, followed closely by Przemek, who dragged a dazed Jonathan behind him. The moment they cleared the door, the gunfire stopped again.

  Sofia bolted toward a metal container behind the building, Przemek and Jonathan right on her heels. They collapsed behind it, gasping for breath as they tried to collect themselves.

  “We have to go that way, right?” Sofia asked, pointing into the darkness—the direction they had planned to head in the morning.

  “Go,” Jonathan said hoarsely, still trying to get his bearings.

  Sofia pushed herself through a gap in the barbed-wire fence, Przemek and Jonathan following close behind. As they entered the forest, they realized the gunfire had stopped completely. Sofia glanced back toward the building. Through the dim moonlight, she could just make out figures moving inside.

  “They went in,” she whispered.

  Jonathan shook his head grimly. “Fuck sake we left the machine gun behind. And those fucks are smart enough to man a machine gun."

  The thought chilled them all, but there was no time to dwell on it. They walked briskly north, their pace hurried by the fear that the enemy wasn’t far behind.

  After about ten minutes, the first sound reached them. It was faint at first, sharp and eerie, like a fox’s scream cutting through the night. They froze, listening, but the sound grew louder, more persistent. It came from the direction they had just left.

  Then another scream pierced the silence, this time to their east. A third followed to the west.

  “What the hell is that?” Jonathan muttered, his grip tightening on his rifle.

  They pushed forward, their path unwaveringly north, but their unease only deepened. Just as they started to hope the way ahead was clear, a scream echoed from the north as well.

  Their hearts sank.

  The pace doubled, though none of them knew if heading north was even safe anymore. The screams didn’t relent, fluctuating in distance, sometimes near, sometimes far. It was impossible to tell if the figures were fast or if there were just more of them.

  Kneeling between two trees, Sofia whispered, “You realize they’re taking turns screaming?”

  “What?” Jonathan hissed, his eyes wide.

  “Listen,” Sofia said. “When they start up again, you’ll hear it. First south, then west, then north, and finally east. Then they start all over again.”

  Jonathan stared at her, his jaw tightening. Przemek let out a quiet curse in Polish. “Maybe it means if they stop screaming, they’re either gone or...” He paused. “Or they’re stalking us quietly. Ja pierdol?!”

  “We don’t know that,” Sofia said firmly, though her voice wavered. Deep down, she knew Przemek’s fears weren’t far-fetched.

  “We need a car,” Jonathan said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension. “I’m not hiking through this countryside with them on our asses anymore. Fuck trying to stay quiet—these guys know our every move, even on foot.”

  Through the pale moonlight, he could see Sofia and Przemek nodding in agreement. The relentless screams in the distance had frayed all of their nerves. Jonathan pulled his poncho and a blanket from his pack and crawled under them.

  “Now’s not the time to sleep,” Sofia whispered, frowning.

  Przemek shook his head and motioned for her to wait. She stopped speaking, her confusion fading as she noticed the faint red glow emanating from beneath Jonathan’s cover. He was using a flashlight discreetly, inspecting the map.

  “Can you both try to guess their distance?” Jonathan asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the distant howls. “The group on our east—they’re at that village marked on the map. North? That’s all forest for a few kilometers. I don’t think it’s smart to walk straight into it with them in there. The east seems far, though. Doesn’t it?”

  Przemek tilted his head, listening closely. “Yeah, they do sound far,” he agreed.

  Jonathan slid out from under his makeshift cover, folding the blanket and poncho before packing them away. “So west,” he continued, pointing at the map, “there’s a small settlement. It’s too close for them to have moved into already. We’ll confirm it as we get closer. If it’s clear, we might find a car or some way to pick up the pace. We need to lose this crowd.”

  “Smart,” Przemek said, nodding. Sofia gave a small, tired nod as well.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” she said.

  They walked for less than ten minutes, the haunting screams continuing in the distance. Though the sounds chilled them, they grew slightly more confident as they neared the small village and realized the screams seemed to be farther west. The unsettling noise still lingered in their ears, but their immediate path appeared clear.

  Jonathan led the way, but uneasiness gnawed at him. It wasn’t just the screams or the pursuit of the creatures—it was something else, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The paved road beneath their feet felt oppressive in the silence of the pre-dawn hours.

  At an intersection just before the entrance to the village, Jonathan motioned for them to crouch. The trio scanned the area, their eyes darting over every shadow and flicker of movement.

  “Outside of the blood-curdling screams in the distance, I don’t see or hear anything,” Przemek said quietly. But even he couldn’t shake the heavy sense of unease. Jonathan could see it in the faint light touching Przemek’s face—he felt it too.

  “You sense it, don’t you?” Jonathan asked, his voice low.

  “Yeah,” Przemek admitted slowly. “But I have no idea what to do.”

  Jonathan’s gaze settled on a small cottage near the edge of the village. Parked outside was an old jeep, its silhouette barely visible in the dim light. He pointed toward it. “You see that cottage? With the jeep?”

  Przemek squinted before nodding. “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” Jonathan said, “you run there. Pray to God there’s a key inside and that thing runs.”

  Przemek stared at him, realization dawning on his face. “You’re going to use it to lure them, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone flat.

  Jonathan nodded. “If I’m right about what’s happening, we’ll use it to draw them in. We don’t have a choice.”

  “Where will you be?” Przemek asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

  “I’ll stay just behind. I’ll be in this bush, watching your back. I won’t be far.”

  Przemek’s jaw tightened. “Don’t be a fucking hero, Jonathan,” he said angrily.

  Jonathan didn’t respond. Instead, he just gestured toward the cottage and said firmly, “Just go.”

  Przemek hesitated, his eyes narrowing at Jonathan. But with a deep breath, he readied himself and nodded. He slung his rifle tighter across his chest, crouching low before darting toward the cottage, his heart pounding as he prayed for the best.

  Przemek and Sofia took off toward the house, keeping a fast pace. Jonathan stayed behind, as still as he could, analyzing the village and the surrounding area. His rifle was steady, eyes scanning every shadow, every treeline.

  Przemek shot the car a quick glance as they approached—a battered Jeep Cherokee, but intact enough to give them hope. He climbed the steps to the front door while Sofia stayed on the patio, peering through the kitchen window.

  “I don’t see anything,” she said in a low voice. “Come here.”

  Przemek nodded, and Sofia joined him by the door. He tried the handle—it was locked. Taking a step back, he kicked it hard at the lock, the wood splintering as the door flew open. A wave of putrid air hit them, and both recoiled. The stench was overwhelming. Przemek stumbled back, gagging as he lifted his neck buff over his nose. Sofia held her breath, fighting the urge to vomit, and stepped inside with one hand covering her face and the other gripping her submachine gun. Przemek followed closely, rifle raised.

  The cottage was quiet, save for the incessant buzzing of flies. They were everywhere—on the walls, the ceiling, the furniture. What Przemek had thought was black paint from the outside was actually a thick swarm of flies clustered together.

  In the middle of the living room sat a figure. Przemek swung his rifle toward it instinctively and flicked on his headlamp. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

  What was left of a corpse slumped back on the sofa. Its head was little more than a hole, crawling with maggots and flies. A shotgun rested limply across its lap, next to a blood-smeared family photo. Even the photo was covered in flies, feasting on the sticky remains. Przemek grimaced and tore his eyes away, his stomach churning.

  “Find the keys,” he muttered, his voice shaky.

  Jonathan flinched at the sound of the door being kicked open. He scanned every direction, focusing on the treeline around the village. Movement caught his eye—figures on the hill suddenly shot up before lying back down again, as if reacting to the commotion at the house. His stomach dropped. They’ve been waiting for this.

  Realizing the danger, Jonathan sprang into action. The treeline was teeming with madmen, camouflaged and perfectly still until now. He couldn’t risk being cut off from Przemek and Sofia, nor could he allow the creatures to descend on the house uncontested. If he didn’t act, they’d all be dead.

  Jonathan bolted from his hiding spot, rifle in hand, running faster than he thought possible. The madmen seemed momentarily stunned, their heads snapping toward the sudden movement. For a brief second, their ambush faltered.

  Inside the house, Przemek and Sofia tore through drawers, searching desperately for the car keys. Sofia thought she’d found them, but they were for another vehicle. Frustration mounted as the oppressive smell and the swarm of flies added to the chaos.

  “There’s no jackets in here,” Sofia realized aloud. She rushed to the door, flinging it open and spotting a row of coats hanging on the wall behind it. She rifled through the pockets, her fingers finally closing around a set of car keys. “Got them!” she shouted.

  Her voice was almost drowned out by Jonathan’s yell from outside. “It’s a fucking ambush! Tell me you’ve got the keys!”

  Instead of rushing inside, Jonathan turned his back to the house and dropped to a knee, raising his rifle. “They’re in the hills!” he screamed. “Those bastards guided us right into their kill zone! Get in the car—now!”

  Przemek and Sofia bolted out of the house. Przemek threw their backpacks into the jeep and jumped into the driver’s seat. Sofia stayed outside, gripping her gun and ready to fire if the car didn’t start.

  “Open the trunk!” Jonathan yelled, firing a shot at the nearest figure creeping down the hill. Sofia complied, swinging it open as she took position next to it.

  Przemek fumbled with the keys, inserting them into the ignition and muttering a frantic prayer. He turned the key, but instead of roaring to life, the car emitted a hollow clicking sound. “The battery’s dead!” he shouted desperately.

  Jonathan fired two more rounds into the nearest targets before unleashing a burst at the treeline. “Push it!” he yelled, running to the trunk. He and Sofia began shoving the car, straining with every ounce of strength they had.

  Przemek fired through the open driver’s window, alternating between steering the car down the slight incline and taking potshots at the advancing figures. He spotted one sprinting toward them, mud-smeared and shirtless, and fired twice through the windshield, hitting his target on the second shot.

  “Keep pushing!” he screamed, revving the engine in desperation. The car jerked forward slightly, and then the engine coughed to life. “It’s running!” he shouted in disbelief, his voice cracking with relief.

  “Inside! Now!” Przemek roared. Sofia and Jonathan threw themselves into the open trunk, slamming the lower hatch shut as the closest figures came within ten meters. Jonathan fired one last shot through the open rear window before yelling, “GO!”

  Przemek slammed on the gas, the jeep roaring down the paved road. The madmen scattered, diving into the shadows as gunfire erupted from the moving vehicle. A rock hit the windshield, causing Przemek to swerve, but he quickly regained control.

  Sofia lay flat in the trunk, closing the lower hatch but leaving the rear window open in case she needed to shoot. Jonathan awkwardly climbed into the back seat, pulling out the map.

  “Third left up ahead,” he instructed, his voice breathless. “Drive for fifty kilometers.”

  Przemek nodded, his grip steady on the wheel. After a moment of silence, he glanced back at Jonathan, a wild grin spreading across his face. Jonathan grinned back, reaching forward to clap him on the shoulder.

  Without a word, they both burst into laughter—loud, uncontrollable, and almost manic. For a brief moment, their hysteria matched the chaos of the creatures they had just escaped.

  The jeep roared into the sunrise, leaving the village and its horrors behind.