23. The Faster Ones
Bougie Apocalypse
The morning after rationing began felt heavier than most. The swamp air was already thick and humid, carrying the constant low chorus of frogs and the damp, earthy smell of rotting vegetation. We were all moving a little slower, measuring every spoonful, every sip. I decided we needed to do a short perimeter sweep and light foraging run close to camp. Nothing ambitious, just enough to stretch what we had.
I paired up as usual: Sarah with me, Tom with Raych and Mikey. We stayed within a half-mile radius, sticking to the higher ground where we could see movement. The ground squelched under our boots, and every few steps sent small clouds of mosquitoes rising around us.
We had been out maybe twenty minutes when Tom’s voice came low over the quiet.
“Movement. Three of them. Coming fast.”
They broke out of the underbrush quicker than anything we had seen before. Not the slow, shambling Walkers we had grown used to. These three moved with ugly purpose, almost coordinated. One let out a sharper, guttural moan that seemed to pull the others in line. The sickly-sweet stench of decay rolled ahead of them on the breeze.
“Contact!” I called.
Time slowed in that familiar fight-or-flight rush. My heart hammered against my ribs. Sweat stung my eyes. Sarah and I opened up, my AR barking in short, controlled bursts while her Mossberg 590A1 boomed with heavy 00 Buck. Tom and Raych didn’t have clear shots at first. They held fire to avoid crossing our lines. The sharp cracks and thunderous shotgun blasts echoed across the water and sent birds exploding from the trees in panic. We put the three Walkers down fast, but the encounter left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.
We dragged the bodies a short distance, burned them to keep the smell down, and headed back to camp in uneasy silence. The heavy, humid air pressed in around us the whole way.
Later, around the fire with the day’s carefully measured coffee, Tom spoke first.
“Those three today… they weren’t like the old ones. They were working together. Almost like they had a plan.”
Raych nodded. “I saw it too. The one in the middle seemed to call the others.”
I stared into the flames, the weight settling again. “They’re changing. Slowly, but they’re changing. We need to be ready for more of that.”
Sarah looked at Mikey, then back at me. “How much longer can we stay here if they’re getting smarter?”
The question hung in the humid air. No one had a good answer.
I took a slow sip of the rationed coffee and looked around at my crew.
We were still safe for now.
But the swamp wasn’t going to stay safe forever.
Jack Harlan’s adventures continue right here.
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Next chapter drops May 31st — Chapter 24: Cabin Fever
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