Chapter 149: Stalker

Aubrey kept her eyes fixed on the window, just barely peeking through a gap in the boards.

Outside, it was the same thing over and over again.

Red eyes. Movement. Noise that didn’t belong to anything human anymore.

One of them crouched over a body that had already been torn apart. It laughed while it dug its hands in, pulling at what was left like it didn’t even know what it was doing anymore. Another one stumbled into it, slipping in blood, before joining in.

Bones cracked. Wet sounds followed.

Aubrey swallowed and leaned back from the window.

“Jesus…” she muttered under her breath.

Behind her, Isabella shifted on the floor.

She was laid out flat at first, then pushed herself up slightly, wincing as she did. Sweat clung to her skin, her tank top sticking to her chest and stomach. The dried blood on it had started to crack.

“God, it’s hot…” Isabella groaned, dragging her hand across her forehead. “Feels like we’re sitting in a damn oven.”

Aubrey glanced back at her and smirked a little.

“You’re sweating like a pig.”

Isabella shot her a look. “Oh, shut the hell up. Like you’re not dripping too.”

Aubrey shrugged. “I handle it better.”

“Yeah? You want a medal?” Isabella muttered, shifting again, clearly uncomfortable. “How long we gotta stay in this… this shit hole anyway?”

Aubrey looked back at the window, more careful this time.

The infected were still there.

More than before.

That was the problem.

They weren’t thinning out. They were building up.

Her frown deepened.

“…Give it a few hours,” she said finally, stepping away and sitting down beside Isabella.

“A few hours?” Isabella let out a tired laugh. “Aubrey, I—I don’t think I got a few hours in me like this.”

“You do,” Aubrey said, leaning her head back against the wall. “You just don’t want to.”

Isabella shook her head slowly. “No, I’m serious. I feel like I’m gonna pass out or something. It’s too damn quiet in here and too damn loud out there at the same time.”

Aubrey glanced up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, well… welcome to the new world,” she muttered.

She looked back at Isabella.

“We wait. We let them pass. Then we move.”

“And if they don’t pass?” Isabella asked.

Aubrey didn’t answer right away.

She just stared ahead for a second.

“…Then we figure something out.”

Isabella let out a slow breath, clearly not satisfied with that.

Aubrey nudged her shoulder lightly.

“Hey.”

Isabella looked at her.

“We’ve gotten through worse than this,” Aubrey said. “Way worse.”

Isabella held her gaze for a moment, then gave a weak smile.

“Yeah… guess we have.”

She was about to say something else—

Then—

SLAM.

Both of them froze.

The sound came from the back of the house.

Another slam followed. Harder this time.

The wood creaked.

Aubrey was already moving.

“Get your gun out,” she whispered sharply, pulling hers up and aiming toward the hallway.

Isabella scrambled, grabbing her weapon.

Her hands shook.

“Shit— shit— hold on—” she muttered, trying to slide the magazine in.

It didn’t click.

“Come on…” she hissed under her breath, fumbling with it again.

Aubrey didn’t look at her.

Her focus stayed locked on the door.

Her breathing slowed, but her heart didn’t.

How the hell did they find us?

Another slam.

The hinges groaned this time.

Aubrey adjusted her stance, tightening her grip.

“Isabella,” she whispered.

“I—I got it— I got it—” Isabella stuttered, finally forcing the magazine in with a shaky push.

“Good,” Aubrey said.

The door cracked.

Splinters snapped.

And then—

It burst open.

Aubrey fired.

The shot rang through the house, deafening in the tight space.

“AH—! SHIT— AUBREY!!!”

The voice hit her just as hard as the gun recoil.

She froze.

Hale stumbled forward into view, clutching his shoulder as blood poured through his fingers.

“Jesus Christ—!” he gasped, dropping against the wall.

Terri rushed in right behind him, slamming the broken door shut with a panicked shove.

“Close it— close it— close it—!” she yelled, dragging something heavy in front of it.

Aubrey’s gun lowered slowly.

Her brain struggled to catch up.

“Hale…?” she said, barely above a whisper.

Isabella stared, eyes wide.

“…No way…”

Hale looked up at them, face twisted in pain.

“Yeah— yeah— it’s me— fuckin’ hell, you shoot first now or what?!” he groaned, pressing harder against his shoulder.

“I—I thought—” Aubrey started, her voice breaking. “I thought you were—”

“Dead?” Terri cut in, breathing hard as she backed away from the door. “Yeah, we get that a lot.”

Isabella let out a shaky laugh, half disbelief, half relief.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” she asked.

“Looking for your asses,” Hale muttered.

The words hit her like a train.

They were looking for them??? After all this time?

Aubrey stepped closer, eyes still locked on him.

“You’re alive…” she said, almost to herself.

Hale let out a pained chuckle. “Barely, now thanks to you.”

Guilt hit her hard.

“Shit— I’m sorry— I didn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, save it,” he said, wincing. “Just… next time maybe yell first?”

Terri glanced toward the window, then back at them.

“Guys…—? we got a bigger problem,” she said quickly.

Aubrey’s stomach tightened. “What?”

Terri swallowed.

“…They’re not just wandering anymore.”

A beat.

Silence filled the room.

Isabella looked at Aubrey.

Aubrey looked back at her.

Then slowly… she turned her head toward the window again.

Outside, more red eyes were gathering.

Not spreading out.

Closing in.

—

Harry cut through the bushes with purpose.

Branches scratched against his arms and face, catching on his clothes, but he didn’t slow down. Each step was deliberate. Heavy. Like he already knew where he was going, even if he didn’t have a clear path.

He didn’t know how long he’d been walking.

Hours, maybe.

Could’ve been less. Could’ve been more.

Time didn’t really mean much anymore.

His breathing stayed steady, even as sweat built along his forehead and neck. His grip tightened around the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder, adjusting it without even thinking.

For a moment, his mind drifted.

Back to the camp.

To his mother.

She would’ve noticed by now.

She would’ve said something. Probably panicked. Probably begged someone to go look for him.

Or maybe she didn’t.

Maybe she just sat there. Quiet. Like she always did when things got bad.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

Harry didn’t feel anything about it.

No regret. No second thoughts.

Just a clear, steady weight sitting in his chest.

Most people, when they made a decision like this, felt something after. Doubt. Fear. That itch to turn around and go back.

Harry didn’t.

There was only one thing pushing him forward.

And it burned.

His jaw tightened slightly as he pushed past another branch.

Images flashed in his mind.

His father dropping.

The sound of the gunshot.

The way that boy didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t even think about it.

Just shot him… and ran.

Like it was nothing.

Harry’s teeth clenched harder.

A breath left his nose, sharp.

Everything that followed traced back to that moment.

His dad dying in the dirt.

Bill stepping in, taking control like he’d been waiting for it.

The camp shifting. Changing.

Him being looked at like he was just some kid again.

Like he couldn’t do anything.

Like he didn’t matter.

Harry adjusted the bag on his shoulder again, tighter this time.

It all started with him.

Tanned skin.

Brown hair.

Harry’s fingers flexed slightly at his side.

If he saw him again—

No.

When he saw him again.

He wouldn’t just kill him.

He’d make him feel it.

Every second of it.

Something worse than what those things out here did.

Something real.

His pace slowed.

Just slightly.

The sound hit him first.

Distant.

Gunfire.

Sharp. Repeating.

And underneath it—

Screaming.

Harry’s head tilted slightly, listening.

His body reacted before his thoughts did.

He lowered himself, crouching as he moved forward more carefully now. His steps grew lighter, quieter. Each placement of his foot was controlled, avoiding anything that would give him away.

Leaves still crunched, but softer now.

Measured.

The sounds got louder.

Closer.

Through the trees, movement came into view.

Three people.

Running.

No—scrambling.

A group of infected chased after them, fast and relentless. Red eyes burned through the trees, bodies crashing into branches, tripping over each other just to get closer.

One of the women turned, firing behind her.

“Keep moving!” she shouted, her voice strained, breath uneven.

For a moment, Harry had just watched everything play out, not really paying attention to faces.

Until the first woman got shoved.

Hard.

Harry’s eyes narrowed.

The second woman had done it.

Pushed her.

Just enough to buy herself space.

The first woman hit the ground, the infected immediately on her. Hands grabbed. Teeth snapped. She let out a sharp, guttural sound as she fought back, jamming her arm up to block its mouth while struggling to push it off.

Harry didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

The third figure turned back.

A man.

Younger.

Looked to be around 19 or so.

“What the fuck!?!?” The woman yelled.

Harry leaned forward just slightly, eyes narrowing.

There it was.

Clear as day.

Tanned skin.

Brown hair.

His pulse spiked.

Not fast.

Not panicked.

Sharp.

Focused.

The noise around him faded.

The gunshots.

The screams.

The infected closing in.

None of it mattered anymore.

His lips slowly curled into something faint.

Not a smile.

Not fully.

But close enough.

“…found you.”

He said to himself, his eyes following them even as they sprinted deeper into the woods.

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