Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 391: Nobody Move

Chapter 391: Nobody Move

Colt staggered out of the water, boots slipping on the wet rocks as the last wave rolled off his back. He didn’t notice the blood on his hands until Sadie grabbed his wrist and stared at it.

"It’s not mine," he muttered, yanking free before she could ask. "Come on. We need to get everyone up here before nightfall."

They had been trapped where they had landed from the waterfall for the better part of a night and a day, and now he was more than dreaming of dry land and something hot to eat. The water was teeming with predators, and he hadn’t dared to close his eyes for more than a few seconds.

Now that they were on land, it was time to regroup and form a plan.

Behind them, the remaining survivors were dragging themselves onto the shore, soaked and shivering, their hands red from clinging to the broken pieces of what was left of the lifeboats. Some cried quietly while others stared, hollow-eyed, like they’d left something behind in the water—something they could never get back.

Sadie didn’t speak. She was too busy listening.

The air smelled wrong. Sharp and sweet, thick with something rotting beneath the perfume of strange flowers. But worse than the smell was the sound.

Or the lack of it.

The jungle ahead of them was massive, towering trees, vines as thick as limbs, plants they didn’t have names for. And it was silent. Not like the quiet of the wilderness that, no matter the time, buzzed with life. Not like the quiet of a dead city. This was the kind of silence that waited.

A living hush, like the world itself had just stopped to listen.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered.

Colt shook out his hair. "What?" he grunted, not happy. He couldn’t hear a single thing.

"Exactly."

The sun dipped low behind them, staining the waves with blood-orange streaks. The shadows of the trees were getting longer. And somewhere far, far off—just barely within range of her ears—Sadie heard a scream.

Not the kind of scream people made in fear.

This one was pure agony.

And then another. Shorter. Sharper.

And then nothing.

Colt straightened up slowly, his jaw clenching. "How many did we lose in the river?"

"I don’t know," Sadie murmured, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Seven? Maybe more."

The others were slowly gathering around a fallen tree near the sand, looking to Colt as if he were still their leader. But he wasn’t. Not really. Not anymore.

Not since Hattie left. Something had changed when she first arrived at the apartments in Region A, and now that she was gone, it still hadn’t returned.

"We’ll rest here for an hour," he announced, scanning the trees. "Then we go inland. We have to find shelter before night hits in full."

"But the jungle—" one woman began, her voice too thin to hold weight.

"Yeah," Colt said. "The jungle." He was used to forests, evergreens, and maple trees. He was used to mountains and cold weather. What he was not used to was this. It was as if the waterfalls sent them back in time to an age before humanity, and he was almost terrified at what that might mean for the survivors.

He turned away before the woman could argue, pulling a ragged tarp from his go bag and laying it over the driest piece of ground he could find. Sadie followed him, sitting without a word as he stared into the tree line.

A warm wind blew from the east. Not the kind that comforted, but the type that carried scent.

It smelled like fire.

And blood.

And meat.

"Something’s burning," Sadie whispered.

"Yeah," Colt muttered. "As long as it’s not us."

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Because, unlike before, now even Colt could hear it clearly. The low, guttural calls echoed through the trees as bones snapped in the distance. Something shrieked in pain, sending the bird overhead to the sky in terror.

He had no idea what they had managed to get themselves into, or even where they were. But at least for the moment, they were alive.

That had to count for something.

------

The fire was weak, barely more than a glow in the sand, but no one wanted to make it bigger.

It wasn’t that the group of survivors was out of fuel. There were branches, driftwood, and even strips of rope and fabric from what was left of the lifeboats. Someone had even managed to find a flair gun and use that as a lighter.

But no matter how big they could make the fire, Colt had quickly shut the idea down. It wasn’t cold; the fire wasn’t needed for warmth, it was merely something to cook the fish he had found. And he knew without a doubt that a bigger fire would only give away their position.

Until he could figure out who was friendly and who wasn’t, he wasn’t willing to take the risk that someone would try to kill them in their sleep.

The rest of the survivors fell into an uneasy sleep, but Colt and Sadie stayed awake, taking watch. They could both feel the eyes of something on them, and neither one was willing to relax.

Every rustling leaf, every twitch of a vine, every shift of shadow had weight. She’d grown up in cities—concrete, steel, subway tunnels, crowded streets. The world had always been loud and fast and full of people.

But here, the silence was deafening.

"I don’t like this," muttered Leo, one of the younger survivors. He sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring wide-eyed into the trees. "I don’t think we should’ve come here."

"You want to go back into the river?" Sadie asked softly, not unkind.

Leo flinched.

"That’s what I thought."

Somewhere behind them, a woman sobbed. No one moved to comfort her. Not out of cruelty—just exhaustion. They were all running on fear and fumes.

Colt hadn’t spoken in nearly an hour. He was standing near the treeline, staring out at the jungle like it owed him an answer. His machete—stolen from the wrecked supply crate weeks ago—hung loose in one hand. His knuckles were white.

And then they heard it.

The sound of a branch snapping in two, not far from the edge of the trees.

"Nobody move," grunted Colt, adjusting his grip on the machete. "Nobody breath. Just stay still."