The Raid (Part 2)

The night had enveloped the shopping district in its cold, dim embrace. The moon obscured by thick clouds, cast an eerie glow on the desolation below. The once vibrant storefronts stood as hollow shells, their display windows shattered and long forgotten.

The street's former vitality had been reduced to mere memories, replaced by the skeletal frames of buildings that stood as haunting, hollow remnants of their former selves. The display windows, once teeming with the promise of goods, were now, the glass shards like the broken dreams of a bygone era.

The flicker of a dying neon sign illuminated the once lively streets overflowing with the footsteps of the dead and decaying. Two figures ventured through the shadows, their boots crunching through the carpet of broken glass and rubble. Each step seemed to echo the groans and moans of the undead roaming through the streets. The tune of decay hummed a death warning to the foolish intruders.

Ethan, his nerves frayed by the constant threat of discovery, couldn't help but curse under his breath at the treacherous terrain. "What's with all this damn glass?" he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. Each fragment of glass seemed like a harbinger of impending doom, threatening to betray their presence to the undead horde.

Liam, however, maintained an oddly serene composure, navigating the treacherous path with the ease of someone who had done this countless times before. His demeanor bordered on casual as if they were on a leisurely midnight stroll rather than tiptoeing through a zombie-infested nightmare.

"They used glass to attract customers," Liam explained, peering into the shattered storefronts as if admiring a display. "It's all about drawing people in, making them curious."

Ethan's agitation flared, his gaze darting nervously between Liam and the street teeming with undead. "I know that," he hissed, "but right now, it feels like I'm tap-dancing on broken glass while surrounded by zombies! And what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to attract their attention?"

Liam, seemingly unfazed, casually shoved a zombie aside, almost like he was clearing a path through a crowded room. His chestnut hair swayed gently in the breeze, a lock of it playfully brushing his forehead. "Don't be so tense," he advised with an air of nonchalance. "Unless you're practically dancing in front of their faces, they won't pay you any mind. Their senses are pretty dull, you know. It's the Lumen that truly draws them. Once they sense the tiniest bit, every one of them within half a mile will come rushing. So, try to relax."

Ethan felt lost for words. "Where do you think we are? Picnicking through the Hanging Gardens of Babylon? We are literally swimming through the dead. How can I possibly relax?"

With an air of nonchalance, Liam snatched a zombie by the arm and drew it nearer. Ethan instinctively pressed himself against a nearby wall, his form blending into the flickering shadows like a phantom. "What in the world are you doing now?" he hissed.

"You have nothing to worry about," Liam assured Ethan. "Zombies can't detect your Lumen unless they're practically on top of you or you actively unleash it. Though moments of extreme stress or danger can activate it. Look, it's not reacting to you in any way."

The grotesque creature's lifeless, glassy eyes wandered over them without the slightest glimmer of recognition. The pervasive stench of decay hung heavy in the air as the zombies continued their ceaseless groaning and moaning. The wind, bearing the foul aroma of burnt debris and decaying flesh, rustled the dry, long-dead leaves on nearby trees and bushes, contributing to the overall sense of unease in the eerie ambiance.

Ethan couldn't contain his apprehension as he hissed at Liam, "You're going to see a moment of extreme stress if you don't remove that thing right away."

Liam sighed his expression a mixture of understanding and resignation. "Alright," he conceded. "Here's the first rule of survival in this world Ethan: you can't avoid the zombies. They're everywhere. The only places they don't exist are where worse horrors prevail. If you want to survive, you have to remember that."

Ethan bit his lip, his thoughts momentarily drifting to the first encounter with another creature, its menacing teeth inches from his face as he fought to survive. "I appreciate the lesson," he replied, his voice laced with unease, "but maybe we could save it for another time."

"Fair enough," Liam agreed, pushing the zombie aside as they continued on their way.

As they rounded the corner, a haunting rhythm enveloped them, the rusty signs creaking mournfully in the wind and abandoned storefront doors swaying like ghostly specters. They entered a dimly lit shop, their senses on high alert as they raided for essential supplies. Despite their diligence, the shelves yielded no food, only a cache of clothes in surprisingly good condition. They selected a few necessities before moving on to the next store.

Their journey pressed on, the night's darkness deepening with every passing minute. With time, Ethan's trepidation waned as he realized that the zombies remained wholly indifferent to his presence.

Hours ebbed away, and the weight of their scavenged supplies began to wear on them. The strap of Ethan's pack dug into his shoulder, not unbearable but discomforting. "Alright, I think we've gathered enough. Let's make our exit," he suggested his voice a whisper in the night's stillness.

As the night hung heavy around them, a sudden gunshot tore through the silence, sending shockwaves of adrenaline coursing through Ethan and Liam. Their bodies snapped toward the source of the commotion in unison, eyes wide and hearts pounding in a symphony of fear and apprehension. "What the hell is that?" Ethan's voice burst from his throat, urgency, and concern palpable in every syllable, etching lines of worry across his face.

Liam, however, remained surprisingly composed. His voice held a quiet resolve as he offered a suggestion. "We should go there."

"What?!" Ethan exclaimed, incredulity coloring his words. "Why on earth would we willingly walk into potential danger? Let's just leave."

Liam bit his lip, contemplating the perilous choice ahead. "It's a good place to scavenge some weapons."

Ethan recoiled, horror etching deep lines into his features. He understood the grim implications of what Liam was suggesting, and the realization gripped his heart like a vice. "What?!" he gasped, disbelief and revulsion warring within him. "That's—"

"Horrible?" he finished quietly. "That's how everyone survives, Ethan. You know, when you said you lost your memories, I envied you. It may seem like something dreadful, but for some, it's a blessing. This world is not kind to the weak or soft-willed."

Under the moonlight, Liam looked unusually small and vulnerable, a survivor of a world that had forced him to make unthinkable choices.

"With a heavy sigh, Ethan yielded to the harsh truth that had become their reality. "Fine," he muttered, his voice laced with resignation. "Let's go."

They ventured further into the inky darkness, guided by the distant sounds. Instead of encountering desperate survivors locked in life-or-death struggles, they stumbled upon an unexpected scene: laughter and merriment pierced the stillness, occasionally overshadowed by the snarls and growls of the lurking undead.

Ethan's brow furrowed, a sense of foreboding settling over him. Who in their right mind would celebrate in a zombie-infested shithole?

Suddenly, a voice sliced through the eerie calm, jolting Ethan into action. His hand, a blur of reflex, lunged towards the makeshift knife nestled at his side. But before he could even grasp it, the icy touch of a gun barrel pressed against the nape of his neck sent a paralyzing shock through his body. He froze, muscles taut with tension, the voice behind him dripping with a chilling, unsettling confidence. "Easy there," it cautioned, every word a razor's edge against his skin. "No need to rush. Hands up."

Ethan's eyes darted sidelong, his heart pounding like a relentless drumbeat as he registered the cold steel of yet another gun, pressed unyieldingly against Liam's temple. Panic welled up in Liam's eyes, mirroring the fear that tightened Ethan's chest. The gravity of their situation pressed upon them, a suffocating weight that urged them to escape swiftly before their captor uncovered Liam's concealed truth. The moment he discovered Liam was a zombie, their brains would splatter in front of them.