Chapter 18: The Road of the Dead

Chapter 18: The Road of the Dead

Val kicked the dirt bike hard, the engine sputtering at first with a metallic cough. For a moment, she feared it might die on her, but then it roared to life with a rough, rattling growl.

She hadn’t ridden one since she was a teenager, but the muscle memory was still there; buried beneath everything else the past few days had forced her to remember. Gripping the handlebars tightly, she eased on the throttle and carefully rolled the bike out of the small garage. The doors stood open now, swaying gently in the morning breeze. The tires crunched softly over gravel and packed earth as she pulled into the courtyard, the rising sun casting pale light through the thick fog still hanging in the air.

As Val reached the end of the driveway, she slowed and gave one last glance back toward the manor and the small gravesite she had dug for Ellie. Her chest tightened, but she pushed the feeling down. There was no more time for morning, at least not now. She had a mission and a promise to keep.

Steeling herself, she turned forward and accelerated down the road, passing the still-smoldering wreckage of the fallen Harrier. It had crashed violently, flames still licking at its twisted frame, the wreckage a grim monument to the chaos that ravaged the country.

But it had given her something. A direction. A destination. A compass through the fog.

She didn’t know what they were bombing. She didn’t know what she would find. She didn’t know if it would lead her to Sam.

But at least now, she had somewhere to go.

About ten minutes down the road from the manor, Val came upon a crossroads. The path to the left remained paved, winding forward into the fog, while the path to the right shifted into a gravel road, rough and narrow. She slowed the bike, eyeing the worn surface beneath her. Faint tire marks curved away from the pavement, veering toward the gravel path. Someone went that way recently, she thought.

Trusting her instincts, Val turned the handlebars and accelerated up the gravel track. Trees crowded in on either side, their trunks thick and dark, their tops vanishing into the low-hanging fog. Now and then, she caught flickers of movement in the treeline, shadows that seemed to vanish the moment she turned her head. Too hard to tell if it was real or just her nerves, but she kept her speed steady, alert.

The path began to climb, slanting upward through the terrain until it leveled out near a narrow bridge crossing a shallow, slow-moving river. The structure looked old but intact, about a hundred meters long, with rusted railings and a deck littered in scattered trash and leaves. No sign of anyone in sight.

Val dropped the bike into first gear and eased forward onto the bridge, the engine rumbling beneath her. She kept her ears sharp as she drove forward, straining to hear anything over the steady growl of the old motor. Up ahead, half-obscured by the fog, she spotted an old car parked at an angle near the far exit of the bridge. Its front end was nudged up against the railing, the doors shut, and the windows too dark to see through.

That’s when she saw it, a quick white flash cutting through the mist.

A split second later, pain exploded in her shoulder, and her body was ripped backward off the bike. She hit the bridge hard, the breath knocked from her lungs, skidding across the cold, littered concrete as the motorcycle clattered and fell in front of her.

Battle Damage

Name Val Health 65% to 45% Source Gunshot

Reacting instinctively, Val rolled behind the fallen bike just as another shot ricocheted off the pavement near her. The sharp ping echoed across the bridge, followed by silence. She’d been shot. That much was certain, the burning in her shoulder intensifying with every heartbeat, radiating outward like fire under her skin.

Another muzzle flash lit up just behind the hood of the parked car, a black vehicle with curved fenders and a long, rounded hood. Marking the silhouette behind the flash, she didn’t hesitate. She drew her pistol and fired the rest of her magazine in rapid succession, each shot aimed toward the spot where the muzzle flashes had appeared.

Without waiting for a response, she sprang forward, reloading with one of the two spare magazines from her belt as she moved. Another flash. This time, the bullet zipped past her ear, close enough to brush her hair.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She reacted immediately, squeezing off two quick shots of her own before leaping toward the car. Still underestimating her newfound strength, her jump sent her soaring higher than intended, nearly brushing the top beams of the bridge. As she arced downward, she caught sight of the Acolyte, the same one who had fled with the old man, still crouched behind the vehicle, firing toward the spot where she had once been.

As he fired, Val landed hard behind the Acolyte’s position, her boots crunching against the gravel road. The sound startled him—he spun, trying to swing his rifle toward her—but he was too slow. Val raised her pistol and fired a single, precise shot. The bullet struck him cleanly in the head, and he dropped instantly, collapsing lifelessly against the side of the vintage car.

Battle Damage

Name Acolyte of The Good Doctor Health 100% to 0% Source Gunshot

Dropping to the gravel,Val grabbed her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Her shoulder throbbed with a deep, burning pain. Glancing down, she spotted the entry wound, small but still bleeding steadily. Reaching around with her left hand, she felt the warm slickness of an exit wound on her back. At least it passed through cleanly, she thought grimly. But she'd need a new med kit, and more stitches.

That’s when she heard it; moaning in the distance, back on the bridge she’d just crossed. With all the noise she’d made, it was only a matter of time. Her luck had finally run out. And as if summoned by the thought, the first sets of black, empty eyes began to materialize through the fog.

But something was wrong.

They were coming into focus too fast.

They were running.

“Oh… no,” Val muttered, breath catching in her throat.

Ignoring the pain screaming from her wounded shoulder, she scrambled to her feet and bolted down the gravel road. They were fast, much faster than the shambling undead she'd fought before, but so was she. Faster than she should be. Even wounded, she was pulling ahead somehow.

Then she caught movement in her peripheral vision, shapes weaving through the trees on both sides, sprinting at an angle. Flanking her.

Up ahead a cluster of five undead erupted from the treeline, cutting her off. Val didn’t slow—she leapt high, aiming to clear them—but one of the taller ones managed to snatch at her foot mid-air. The grip threw off her momentum, and she tumbled hard into the group, slamming onto her side.

They pounced.

The first lunged straight for her chest, but Val twisted and drove a boot into its ribs, sending it crashing backward into two others and tangling them into a heap of flailing limbs. Jumping to her feet, a fourth reached for her throat, she ducked low, seized it by the collar, and hurled it into the last one with a grunt of effort.

The brief window of chaos was all she needed. She turned and ran.

Val could see more of them now as she sprinted. Shadows through the fog, dozens, maybe more. Her lungs burned as she sprinted up the road, eyes locking onto an old, broken gate ahead. It was massive, iron bars twisted and hanging loose from their hinges. On either side, stone walls rose and crumbled in places, worn down by time and neglect.

She pushed herself harder and darted through the shattered entrance. Glancing back, she froze mid-stride, skidding along the gravel.

The dead had stopped.

They stood just beyond the gate, packed together in eerie silence. None crossed the threshold. They didn’t growl or claw or moan. They just… stared. Still. Watching her from behind some unseen line, an invisible wall that held them back.

Val's chest heaved as she took a cautious step back. Whatever this place was, wherever it was, the undead, for better or worse, could not enter.

End of Chapter Stats

Name Val Occupation Combat Medical Technician (CMT) Health 45% Hunger 75% Thirst 30% Gear Light Clothing, Lighter Backpack Helm of the Valkyrie, Water Bottle ×2 Weapons Glock 17, Engraved Dagger Ammo 9mm – 31 rounds Skills Battlefield Medicine, Standard Weapons Trained, Enhanced Strength Kills 19

Name Acolyte of The Good Doctor (Terminated) Occupation Unknown Health 0% Gear Robe Weapons Rifle