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Sarah, her husband's silent prayer echoing in her heart, felt her breath quicken once again.
The rhythmic thud of the infected against the door, the chilling growl that filled the air, sent a wave of panic through her.
She couldn't stand idly by, couldn't simply wait for the inevitable.
She had to fight, had to protect the man she loved, had to defend their sanctuary.
Her hand, shaking with a mixture of fear and determination, reached for the gun John had left for her.
The cold metal felt reassuring in her grip, a tangible symbol of their fight for survival.
With a surge of adrenaline, she managed to load the gun with a decisive click.
Sarah, her pregnant belly a stark reminder of the life they were fighting to protect, sat huddled on the mattress, her back pressed against the cold, unforgiving wall.
The weight of her unborn child, a precious burden, filled her with a fierce determination to survive.
John, his body a shield against the relentless assault of the infected, stood with his back pressed against the broken door.
The flimsy lock had given way, leaving them vulnerable to the horrors that clawed at their sanctuary.
He held his rifle steady, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the door, his senses on high alert.
He would be her bulwark, her protector, her last line of defense against the encroaching darkness.
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The rain poured down in sheets, a relentless deluge that turned the world into a blurry, gray canvas.
A pair of rain boots, caked in mud, splashed through a tiny puddle, sending a spray of water into the air.
Looking up, the gruff, bearded man saw the source of the sound.
A figure stood silhouetted against the rain-soaked hill, a silhouette made even more imposing by the thick beard that framed his face.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, a man who had weathered many storms, both literal and figurative.
Beside him, huddled close, were his family, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and anger.
Their eyes were fixed on the cabin below, a beacon of light in the storm-wracked darkness.
But the light wasn't welcoming, it was a chilling reminder of the horror that had unfolded within its walls.
The windows, once bright with the promise of warmth and safety, were now crowded with the grotesque faces of the infected, their vacant eyes reflecting the storm raging outside and within.
The man, his heart heavy with a mixture of grief and rage, remembered the moment they had left their cabin.
They had been gone for only a few hours, a brief respite from the relentless struggle for survival.
But in those few hours, their sanctuary had been violated, their home turned into a breeding ground for the infected.
He and his family, their faces grim with the weight of betrayal, looked at the cabin, a silent testament to the horrors that had befallen them.
The intruders, whoever they were, had taken their home, their peace, their sense of security.
And they would pay for it.
The man, his voice low and dangerous, muttered under his breath,
"They'll Pay."
His eyes, cold and hard, focused on the cabin, a promise of vengeance burning in their depths.
He would find them, he would make them pay for the devastation they had wrought.
He would make them pay for the terror they had unleashed.
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YOU ARE READING
⚔️☠️ Whispers In The Grave ☠️⚔️
Romance(🥀) "Ugh, go away Kai!" "Sup, Zoeyy~!" ~ ☠️~ ~~~ 🥀 Zoey, along with her loyal band of friends, embarked on a perilous journey, their hearts heavy with the weight of finding a cure for the infec...
