The tree line ahead burst open to reveal the broken rooftops, endless avenues, and rusted overpasses of Starfall City. Where once the streets teemed with life, now overgrown hedges, cracked asphalt, and creeping vines marked the passage of time.
Ghost led the way, silent and ever-watchful with his marksman rifle slung low. I followed, eyes darting over the empty road stretching between rows of decaying storefronts.
We'd journeyed far longer than planned to reach Starfall City, or "Stary" as we called it—one of the last cities still standing. Ever since leaving the west—where we felt safe—we'd wound through long destroyed highways, abandoned towns, and enough already to truly test our resolve.
Life at Knox's Castle was safe enough compared to the chaos out here. Decades ago, the virus that twisted humanity and shattered society, had left its mark. Yet in the west, Knox and his militant network had managed to rebuild—keeping people alive, restoring some form of order and maintaining peace.
Trey, Ghost, Onyx, and others led smaller fireteams, taking charge of patrols, trade, and supply runs.
Knox's Castle, overlooking the entire airfield, held alliances with other compounds, keeping routes open and enforcing stability with a harsh but necessary efficiency. Its presence served as a reminder of order in an increasingly unstable world. Yet it was the relentless zombie population, drifting endlessly from the north and east, that kept everyone on edge.
They were once human—now hollow shells of rotting flesh, some slow, others disturbingly quick. We saw them everywhere, moving in loose packs or staggering alone, driven by raw hunger.
If they bit you, you were fucked—there was no second chance.
It was horrifying at first, but over time we learned to accept them as just another danger to face—part of daily life, no matter how deadly they remained.
Our team, led by Ghost, took care of whatever Knox needed, but mainly kept the zombie population in check—sweeping through local towns, making sure the dead didn't gather too close to the safe zones.
Most days, it felt like clockwork—an expected rhythm of search, clear, and return. We didn't run into much trouble, and even when we did it was easily dispatched.
But out here in the east, everything was different. The dangers multiplied with every step we took, pushing us further from the fragile sense of safety we thought we could count on.
I caught sight of Ghost's yellow armband as he walked ahead, the light catching on its worn fabric in a brief glint. Knox and Trey wore white, and the other fireteam leaders yellow. Even that simple reminder of order felt distant to me now.
Starfall City was the last reliable spot to communicate back to Knox's Castle before heading too far east.
I tapped the radio clipped to my vest. "Knox… We've reached Stary. Nothing so far…"
A crackle of static, then Knox's steady, deep southern drawl came through. "Understood… Is Ghost alright?"
I glanced at Ghost, who had paused to survey the buildings with those sharp eyes of his. "He's good," I replied.
Knox's voice returned, a touch firmer. "Keep searching… If things go sideways, fall back to where you are now, in Stary, and radio in. I can pull Trey from the north to support you…"
I nodded silently, even though Knox couldn't see.
Trey's team was currently operating near the northern border towns—a squad we'd fought alongside for years.
Ghost's jaw tightened as he held his own radio, his voice calm and low. "We'll bring him home…" he said. There was a weight behind those words; none of this sat well with us, it had already been too long.
The voice over the radio softened. "Stay safe…" Knox said, his tone carrying a rare urgency. "Look out for each other, we want you all back here alive." he added.
"Copy," Ghost responded, clipping his radio back to his vest.
His grip on his rifle tightened as we moved further into the heart of the city.
Laurence, or "Loz" as we knew him, had been missing for weeks. He was our sniper, and the best of the lot, and he had kept watch over us all for a long time. Knox had sent him out solo after those distant yet thunderous explosions had started rumbling from the east. Ghost and I had been out with Trey's team at the time, running supplies to the checkpoints, when the blasts rang out—powerful enough to shake the air.
"Those explosions…" I murmured, whilst recalling the thought of that night, "What do you think they could have been, again?"
Ghost paused, his gaze fixed on the horizon, "Hard to say. Maybe rogue militias, or scavengers detonating abandoned armouries… or even zombies triggering old traps."
I frowned, remembering how those distant booms had rolled through the air, a deep, guttural force that I could feel more than hear. There was no glow on the horizon, no lights in the sky—just the lingering echoes, stretching too far to make sense of.
"Seemed excessive," I said, keeping my voice low. If it had just been rival groups trading shots, it must have been on a scale we hadn't dealt with before. "Knox wouldn't have sent Loz out if he had thought it was nothing…" I said.
Ghost's jaw tightened. "Well, if it's fighting, let's hope it stays there—far from the west. I don't blame Knox for wanting to know who's behind it, but he shouldn't have sent Loz alone…"
His words settled into the quiet, the memory of those distant blasts still clicking around in my mind, like a warning. Instinctively, my eyes flicked to the treeline, searching for a familiar silhouette that wasn't there. Loz had always been watching from a distance, covering without a word.
Now, the empty stretch of land felt exposed—vulnerable.
How long before whatever was out there crept closer, reaching beyond the east… all the way home?
I remember the drive back that night—Ghost hadn't said a word the entire way, his silence almost heavier than the sounds themselves. By the time we reached the Castle, Loz was already gone, sent east on Knox's orders.
Loz, standing taller than most of us and always in that old ghillie suit, had apparently saluted, flashed his cocky grin, and left before Ghost could even weigh in on it.
It hadn't sat right with any of us. Knox wanted intel fast and Loz was in the right place… at the wrong time.
The last words Loz had said, according to the others, were something about not letting anyone know he'd even left—that he'd be back before anyone could miss him. But now, his grin felt like a bitter memory.
After weeks without a word, Knox finally gave Ghost the green light to go searching for him. If Ghost was going, it went without saying that I'd be at his side.
Each moment without a sign of Loz deepened the weight in my gut.
Ahead, Ghost gestured with his rifle toward one of the buildings. "Let's check inside…" he said.
I nodded, following while the weight of Loz's absence still pressed heavily on my mind. We'd known him for years—his quiet humour, his reliable presence on every job, camouflaged and hidden. He was a trusted and loyal member of the group, reporting directly to Ghost, much like I did. He shouldn't have been sent out alone, and we all knew it.
As the sun dipped behind us, Stary felt like a tomb. Crows perched on the rooftops, their cold eyes fixed on us, while the heavy air sang with the rattling of loose shutters and hollow windows.
Ghost and I ducked into an abandoned shop on the corner. Dust-coated shelves lined the walls, and shattered glass from broken jars littered the floor. Ghost sifted through empty crates while I scanned the back room, finding nothing but rot and decay.
Starry was like a hollow shell—quiet, empty, and waiting.
Back outside, Ghost paused to scan the area again. "He should've turned back by now if he made it this far…" he said.
The silence between us was heavy. Loz should have radioed if he'd found anything worth reporting—but we had nothing: no sign, no signal, only an empty trail.
"We should keep moving…" Ghost said, his voice low. "Maybe there's something in the next town over."
I looked out toward the darkening road, the shadows stretching long and leaving the city. "We're running out of light…" I said.
"Then we'd better hurry," he replied.
I didn't say what haunted me most—that maybe Loz had found something terrible enough to keep him silent, or that he might be gone for good. But until we knew, we weren't ready to give up.
