Zombie – Chapter: Rahman's Last Stand
The road to Malik's father's shop was longer than it should have been.
No vehicles.
No survivors.
Not even the sound of birds.
Only the wind moving through broken buildings and abandoned signboards.
Adam walked at the front, scanning every corner of the silent street. Malik followed beside him, holding his metal pipe tightly.
Behind them, Rahman carried the last remaining water bag.
"We're close," Malik said quietly.
"My father's shop should be just after the next junction."
Adam nodded.
"Stay alert."
Something about the silence felt wrong.
Too clean.
Too empty.
Then—
A sound.
A dragging noise.
Behind them.
Adam turned immediately.
"Infected!"
Three of them appeared first.
Then five.
Then more.
From both sides of the road.
"They're coming from the alleys!" Hana shouted.
"Move!" Adam ordered.
The group ran forward.
More infected emerged from behind broken vehicles and collapsed walls.
They were being surrounded.
Rahman looked back.
Counted quickly.
Too many.
Far too many.
"If we keep running together, they'll catch all of us," he said.
Adam stopped.
"No."
Rahman stepped forward.
"Yes."
Malik shook his head.
"There must be another way."
Rahman forced a small smile.
"There is."
He handed the water bag to Adam.
"You lead them to the shop."
Adam didn't take it.
"Rahman."
"Someone has to slow them down."
The infected were getting closer now.
Too close.
Rahman tightened his grip on the wooden spear he had carried since the second day of the outbreak.
"You always said survival needs decisions," he continued quietly.
"This is one of them."
Hana's voice trembled.
"You can still run with us."
Rahman looked at them one last time.
"If I run with you… none of us reach that shop."
Silence fell between them.
Adam finally took the water bag.
His hand felt heavier than before.
Rahman stepped backward slowly.
Creating distance.
Creating time.
"For Malik," he said.
"For all of you."
Then he turned and ran straight toward the infected.
"GO!"
Adam grabbed Malik's arm.
"Move!"
Malik hesitated.
"RAHMAN!"
But Rahman didn't turn back.
He charged forward.
The first infected fell under his spear.
Then another.
Then another.
His voice echoed across the empty street as he fought alone against the advancing wave.
"RUN!"
Adam forced the group forward.
None of them spoke.
None of them looked back again.
Because they already knew what they would see.
They reached the shop fifteen minutes later.
Malik stopped in front of the half-open metal shutter.
His hands trembled.
"This is it."
Slowly, he pushed the shutter upward.
The sound echoed loudly through the empty street.
Inside—
Dust covered everything.
Shelves were broken.
Supplies were gone.
But the place was still standing.
Still familiar.
Still his father's shop.
Malik walked inside slowly.
Like stepping into a memory that refused to disappear.
Adam began searching the shelves.
Hana checked the storage area behind the counter.
Then Malik stopped.
"There's something here."
Under the counter.
A small cloth pouch.
Hidden carefully.
Not dropped.
Not forgotten.
Hidden.
Adam opened it.
Inside were several pieces of dried leaves tied together neatly.
And beside them—
fingerroot.
Hana leaned closer.
"Medicinal herbs?"
Malik nodded slowly.
"My father used to keep these."
Adam looked deeper into the pouch.
There was something else.
Folded paper.
Old.
But protected.
He opened it carefully.
A hand-drawn map.
Only one location marked clearly.
Bukit Akra
Hana stepped closer.
"There's writing."
Adam lifted the paper toward the light.
The handwriting looked rushed.
Uneven.
But clear enough to read.
If you are still alive… go to Bukit Akra.
Malik stared at the map.
"My father knew about this place."
Adam looked at him immediately.
"What place?"
Malik swallowed.
"He once said there was an old research station near Bukit Akra."
Silence filled the shop again.
Outside—
the wind moved through the empty street.
Adam folded the map slowly.
Rahman's sacrifice was still fresh in his mind.
Still heavy in his chest.
Still unfinished.
He looked at the others.
"We go to Bukit Akra."
Because now—
turning back was no longer an option.