The Price of Survival
The road back from Akra Hill was not quiet anymore.
It was tense.
Too tense.
No one spoke as they moved through the abandoned highway corridor.
Inside her backpack—
Myra carried the sealed container carefully.
The last remaining samples of
Akra leaves
and Fingerroot.
Their only chance.
Farid walked ahead of the group.
Watching every corner.
Every rooftop.
Every broken vehicle along the roadside.
"They'll smell us soon," he said quietly.
Raj frowned.
"Who?"
Farid answered without turning back.
"Not infected."
"Survivors."
Lyana understood immediately.
Her grip tightened around her bag.
"They'll want supplies."
"And medicine," Diana added.
"And weapons," Malik said.
"And maybe the samples," Myra whispered.
They continued walking.
Faster now.
Closer together.
More alert.
Then—
someone stepped onto the road ahead.
A man.
Thin.
Dirty.
Holding a machete.
"Stop."
More figures appeared behind him.
Five.
Then eight.
Then twelve.
Armed.
Hungry.
Desperate.
Farid raised his weapon slowly.
"We don't want trouble."
The man laughed.
"No one wants trouble anymore."
His eyes moved toward Myra's backpack.
"But everyone wants supplies."
Another survivor stepped forward.
"You came from Akra Hill."
It wasn't a question.
It was certainty.
Raj whispered,
"How do they know?"
Lyana answered quietly,
"Because nobody goes there unless they're looking for something important."
The leader pointed his machete toward them.
"Leave the medicine."
"And the bags."
"Then walk away."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Farid shook his head slowly.
"No."
The word changed everything.
Weapons lifted.
Steps moved closer.
Breathing became louder.
Shorter.
Sharper.
"We don't want to hurt you," Diana said.
The man replied immediately.
"Then don't make us hurt you."
A survivor suddenly rushed forward—
trying to grab Myra's backpack.
Raj reacted instantly.
He pushed the attacker away.
The road exploded into chaos.
Punches.
Shouting.
Metal striking metal.
Bodies colliding.
Someone fired a warning shot.
Someone screamed.
Someone fell.
"STOP!" Farid shouted.
But it was already too late.
The fight had started.
And fights made noise.
Too much noise.
Then—
a sound came from the trees beside the road.
Low.
Wet.
Dragging.
Closer.
Adam turned immediately.
"They're here."
The first infected burst out from the roadside ditch.
Then another.
Then more.
Drawn by the noise.
Drawn by movement.
Drawn by fear.
"RUN!" Malik shouted.
But the survivors who attacked them were already too close.
Too slow.
Too trapped.
One infected jumped onto a survivor's back.
Another grabbed someone's arm.
Someone screamed.
Someone fell.
Someone didn't get up again.
Lyana froze.
"No—!"
Raj pulled her back.
"We can't help them!"
Farid fired twice.
Zul dragged Malik behind a broken car.
Diana pulled one injured survivor away from the road—
but another infected reached him first.
Too late.
Adam stood still for one second longer than everyone else.
Watching.
Thinking.
Choosing.
Then he moved.
Helping Myra climb over a fallen barrier.
"Go!"
The infected were everywhere now.
Too many to fight.
Too fast to stop.
Too close to survive.
Farid shouted again,
"MOVE!"
The team ran together.
Leaving the road behind them.
Leaving the screams behind them.
Leaving the survivors behind them.
No one spoke for a long time after that.
Because everyone understood the truth now.
In this world—
infected were not the only danger anymore.
Humans were becoming something worse.
Hours later—
as the sun disappeared behind the ruined skyline—
the outer structure of
Professor Ilham's Laboratory
finally appeared ahead of them.
Still standing.
Still silent.
Still waiting.
And inside Myra's bag—
the last remaining Akra leaves
and Fingerroot
were still safe. 🌿🧪
For now.