Prelogue
Mishaal stared up at the evening sky above him. Tonight, it seems that each star twinkles just for him, like a distant jewel. He had never admired them before, not until tonight. He was sitting on one of the tree stumps, the cool, gentle breeze that carries scents of pine and dew ruffling his light brown hair, his tumultuous brown eyes gazing at the stars above.
Tonight, as he stared upwards, he found himself with an unfamiliar, profound sense of calm, and he was lost in reverie. He grew up in the city, and so he does not appreciate the sky as much as he did tonight. The world seems to pause at that moment.
“You are thinking deeply, my friend,” noticed Pavel, who was tasked with accompanying him toward the Rosewood Village.
We are not friends, he wanted to tell him he was only here to drop him off on his mission. After this, they would not see each other again.
They are both white, but his face has more Middle Eastern features. His once-blonde hair darkened and turned a light brown as he grew up. His striking pair of amber eyes still showed defiance; an aquiline nose and a chiseled jaw made him stand out visually.
On the other hand, Pavel looked swollen with weariness, as if the weight of his own existence, as if the life itself had worn him down from the inside. His midsection sagged beneath his faded coat, and his eyes - glassy and half-lidded.
“Don’t worry, I won’t escape. I would get what you all asked me,” reassured Mishaal, wind tousling on his hair
He was tasked with retrieving a special thing that can be found inside an abandoned facility that should not be far from where they are.
According to the map, he simply needed to walk straight, and he would find the facility that was destroyed by the explosion. Once in the facility, he needed to retrieve something that was inside the Origin Lab, revived the computer system and message the HQ, and he would be free. He was a computer hacker, and it would be a piece of cake for him.
“You know what’s good for you, huh?” chuckled Pavel, taunting him.
“I just want to get out of this place,” he said truthfully.
He knew that there were eyes watching them - unseen, patient, and ready to strike if he made a wrong move. He continued to follow Pavel as they headed toward the encroaching village. He quickly noticed some decaying buildings towering over them like an ancient guardian long forgotten. He felt something ominous, but he kept walking, compelled by something he couldn’t name.
Mishaal was not scared of the dark or unfamiliar surroundings but felt something off in this place. The air was thick with eerie stillness. A solemn quietude with crows perched on the tree made screeching caws, filling the moment with more dread. The dense, twisted trees seemed to close in around them as they went deeper into the maze of gnarled roots and overgrown foliage.
He was told that it would be dangerous and had been given a simple pistol, but they did not care to elaborate, and he never bothered to ask. He knew that he simply needed to be cautious.
It does not take long before they reach the grand entrance of Rosewood Village. It was a tall, wrought-iron gate with intricate patterns that stood proudly, flanked by imposing statue pillars. Above the gates, a beautifully crafted piece of art bears the name of the subdivision in elegant script. There is no denying that this gate belongs to the rich and the opulent. Whatever happens to this place, it must be something dreadful.
‘Why are you so bad?’He heard those voices again.
“Stop!” Mishaal screamed suddenly, making Pavel turn his head on him.
“What! What did you say?” Pavel asked him. He seems confused about what really happened to him.
“Nothing,” he denied. He would not understand anyway, no one did.
“Friend, What drug you are on? Let me have some,” Pavel said disgustingly,
Mishaal was slightly offended, but he ignored the snarky comment. He won’t understand. No one does, even himself.
“You need a visit to a mental hospital after this, you know,” he sounded concerned.
“Thanks,” Mishaal can only said. Soon, he would have his day, and Pavel would eat his word against him.
“Never mind. Let’s continue.”
Pavel opened the gate using a key, and they both got inside. Mishaal immediately noticed the sprawling mansion although showing sign of decade and negligence, it still boasting ornate architecture, showcasing the wealth and influence of its occupants of its former inhabitant. What could have happened to them? The meticulous garden now bore the wild marks of nature, reclaiming its territory yet still retaining the ghostly beauty that spoke of its former grandeur.
They walked some distance and Pavel immediately noticed something
“Hey Mishaal, do you eat dogs?” asked Pavel, who seemed happy seeing a canine nearby.
“No,” unless given certain circumstances, but by choice, he wouldn’t even think about it.
It wasn’t a dog. Mishaal’s eye fell on horror. It was a human but not human, at least not anymore. It was a legless creature that was dragging itself across the ground with its decomposed hands. Its body was missing everything below the torso, yet it moved faster than by pouncing itself on the ground, its eyes fixed on him with unnerving focus. Its bony fingers clawed at the dirt, scraping and pulling its mutilated form closer with each desperate grasp. Suddenly, a snapshot of a human, perhaps a doctor appeared on his mind. It must be the human it was once.
Mishaal knew - no creatures like that could possibly exist. The thought alone defied any reason. Suddenly, a premonition surged through him like a lightning strike. He saw a man - smiling and full of life - walking like he is preparing to go to work, with briefcase in his hand, unaware. Then the vision shifted. That same man... transformed into something twisted, grotesque and now in front of him.
It was the same man. The monster was that man.
“Run!” Mishaal shouted as he sprinted, adrenaline surging through his veins as they were being chased down, his heart racing.
Being chased down by those monstrous creatures invoked him an unparalleled sense of primal fear and urgency. He sprinted for his life, the creatures snarls and growls echoing through the desolate streets. Pavel followed close behind, but his labored breathing and faltering footsteps betrayed his exhausted
“Help me!” begged Pavel, his screamed reaching out his hand for Mishaal to help him. His scream were other worldly and racked with unbelievable pain and horror.
He turned to see Pavel’s desperate cry for help, only to watch in horror as one of the creatures snatched hm off the ground. His scream were abruptly silenced as the creature’s jaw tore into him, ravaging him beyond recognition
Mishaal ran away as fast as he could, not knowing where his feet would take him or if the branches were slicing, whipping him or piercing him, the pain was a small price to pay for survival. Every instinct screamed at him to keep running, keep moving and never looked back.
Behind him, the relentless growls of the pursuing zombie echoed through the desolate forest. They were surprisingly fast, given its rotten current conditions. He darted through the trees while his mind race with the thought of finding a shelter or a weapon, anything to put distance between himself and the nightmare trailing him.
In these harrowing moments, his only thoughts were of escape and survival. His breath fired through his lungs and his heart pounded harder and faster. He had put as much distance between him and those creatures who wanted to eat him.
What kind of creatures are they? Mishaal asked himself while running for his life.
‘Why are you so selfish?’
He heard the voice again... those voices that insulted him. As the zombie with half body was fast approaching, with a desperate lunge, Mishaal grabbed a large wooden stick from the ground and spun around, his blood boiling as the fury overtook him.
He turns around just as the mutated creature slithered closer, its limbs bending in ways that defied anatomy. With a roar, Mishaal gripped a thick branch and began swinging it relentlessly, striking the creature’s head over and over - each blow driven by the pure, primal rage.
But the monster didn’t fall, it is still alive despite the constant beating, grinning at him like a hungry predator though it’s body released a cloud of fine, powdery mold.
It does not die; rather, it regenerates and is ready to attack him again.
A chill of terror shot through Mishaal’s spine, but it was quickly swallowed by something hotter, deeper anddarker.Thinking how those creatures biting, ripping, chewing strands of meat as Pavel begged for his life was more than Mishaal could process.
Feeling the fear and heat building up within him, his hand crackled with energy fueled by intense rage he knew he never felt before.
“Die Bastard,” he yelled with great fury. With a scream, Mishaal thrust his hands forward, sending the creatures flying as far as possible, soaring into the sky.
Mishaal stands up, his chest heaving. Just as he thought it was over, he heard the unmistakable shuffling of feet. His energy drained, and he knew he could no longer fight back.
They are many of them. And he is alone.
He turned into a corner and found a dense bush. The bush gave him an illusion of safety, as the place itself was a graveyard of abandoned cars and shattered glass.
Then Mishaal scrambled up a towering oak, his fingers digging into rough bark as he hauled himself higher, desperate to escape the zombie’s grasp. Perched precariously, Mishaal heart raced, his mind fixed on survival as he prayed that the dense foliage would serve as an effective camouflage, shielding him from those creatures from hell.
The trees seemed to disapprove of his presence and thrashed around as if they were speaking with each other. There were sea of spores, twinkling like a star and dance around him.
Mishaal’s breath hitched as he peered down at the sea of zombies below. They all varied in shape and form - some grotesquely mangled, others eerily intact - but all shared ravenous hunger, waiting to lunge the moment he was found.
’You are dumb. You are stupid. You are worthless,′
Mishaal’s continuously hears those words in his head. He wanted to focus on keeping his ass safe, but the voice kept on coming, hammering his brain. He closed his eyes and tried ignoring those insulting words; it was getting on his head.
“Stop it,” he whispered. He can’t focus.
‘You are an asshole, Mishaal,’
“Stop it!” Out of his deep rage, he could no longer contain it and screamed.
And they all heard him. He heard missing sounds and a low groan moan. Their footsteps are now going in his direction. Mishaal’s heart pounded like a war drum, their guttural growls echoing around him, making him crazier than he already was; their shadows cast eerie shadows on the crumbling building.
An assembly of monsters ready to pound him. His finger twitched with a familiar warmth sparkling at his fingertips. He had sworn never to use it again, but desperation was a cruel mistress, and there was no choice.He had to live.
The horde was getting closer, a chill of terror run through his vein. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the encroaching dread. He shook his head. He wouldn’t fall. Not here. Not now. Not until he had an answered to his ques
A searing heat bloomed in his chest, radiating outwards, a sensation that was both agonizing and exhilarating. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles turned white as tiny tendrils of smoke began to curl from his fingertips.
“You all die!” screamed Mishaal and raised his arms with a fierce cry, with flame danced along his hand, unleashing a torrent of fire
A wall of fire, pure and incandescent, roared into existence, illuminating the grotesque faces of the waves of zombies, sizzling their decaying flesh, their moans turned to high-pitched, horrifying screams as they are being consumed
The blazing inferno spread outward, engulfing all those monsters in a whirlwind of searing heat. The fire didn’t waver. It surged, licking higher, wider, forming a protecting wall. The ground beneath him scorched, the air filled with acrid scent of burning flesh
Thick smoke choked the air, blanketing the landscape in a suffocating haze. Mishaal’s lungs burned, each breath a struggle, but he forced himself. It was all a nightmare, and it would pass soon
As darkness crept into his vision, he clung to a single, searing thought: once he escaped this hell, those responsible would pay. Surrendering to the encroaching void, his resolved burned brighter than the haze around him.
