A few days after the confrontation with Bruno, the group was still shaken. Many of them were still carrying injuries from the blows they had suffered. Silence reigned throughout the house where they were staying, a place they had found near the market. It was still furnished and had three bedrooms, accommodating them far better than before. However, the lack of electricity made the nights long and dark. The power plant explosion had devastated much of the city, and only a few places still had electricity.
Late that afternoon, Samira watched the sunset from the window, keeping a close eye on the infected moving through the streets. Her gaze was distant, but her mind kept returning, over and over again, to the image of her brother with those red eyes. She didn't know what to feel. She didn't know what to think. But to keep herself from drowning in that whirlwind of emotions, she made a decision: she would hate her own brother for what he had become. She was determined, even knowing that she might be the one responsible for killing him.
From that point on, she would do everything she could to become independent of the group. She would train until she became the best at exterminating any infected that crossed her path. Her determination was so intense that something inside her began to change. Her eyes, once dark brown, began to take on a reddish hue, with a faint white ring around the pupil. It was different from the transformation Bruno had undergone, but even so… it was still a mutation.
In the bathroom, João let the hot water run over his body, but the heat did nothing to wash away the feeling that had haunted him since that day. Fear. The absolute fear he had felt when he looked into Bruno's eyes. He had never been afraid of that bastard, but in that moment, with a single glance, he felt his entire body freeze. The longer he stared into those eyes, the deeper the terror became, crushing him from within.
Ever since then, something had been wrong. He couldn't stop sweating. And that cut on his forehead… Bruno had caused it, but when he woke up, there was nothing there anymore. No scar. No trace.
But his body was changing. He could feel it. He was always hot, feverish. And little by little, he began to notice that he was losing weight. Something was happening to him. Something he couldn't explain.
In the living room, surrounded by the others, Anael remained silent, but inside, he was boiling with anger. He could no longer endure the suffocating sense of helplessness that had been eating away at him since that fight. The beating he had taken from Bruno had not been merely physical—it had been psychological. Every blow he received, every failed attempt to fight back… he hadn't even been able to lift a finger to defend himself. Faced with those red eyes, he had felt small. Weak. Pathetic.
Now, that weakness was turning into hatred—a hatred directed at himself. The contempt he felt for his own inability consumed him, and every time he closed his eyes, he relived that moment of humiliation.
But not everything was a bad memory. Amid all that turmoil, flashes from the past surfaced like cutting blades. He remembered the days when Bruno would barge into his house without warning, waking him with a painful slap on the ass and a mocking shout:
— Wake up, you worthless bug, you lazy bastard!
Bruno's shrill laughter echoed in his mind. He also remembered how his cousin would mercilessly mess with him every time he said something without thinking or fell for one of his pranks.
Raziel and Arthur also clung to the good memories. Hours and hours spent playing video games together, arguing, teasing one another. But Bruno… Bruno was unbearable whenever he won. He always made a point of rubbing every victory in their faces, as if it were the greatest trophy in the world.
Those moments seemed so distant now. As if they belonged to another life.
Another day passed.
The atmosphere inside the house remained tense, but there was something they needed to resolve. Alonso, Daniel, Camille, Anael, João, and Edvaldo decided it was time to resume the meeting they had started earlier. They needed to assign roles, reorganize their priorities, and, most importantly, decide what they were going to do from that point forward.
Once everyone was gathered, Reidner took the floor. His eyes swept across the group before settling directly on Camille. His expression was firm, weighed down by the losses they had suffered. He took a deep breath before speaking:
— I know we've suffered a lot of losses recently… Some of them still hurt like an open wound. We lost one of our own. But we can't afford to stop, especially now that Bruno has truly become another one of the monsters we have to face.
The silence in the room was absolute. Everyone knew he was right.
— What I'm trying to say — he continued — is that we need to put an immediate end to any internal friction and establish everyone's positions and responsibilities here. If we want to survive, we have to act like a real group.
Edvaldo raised his hand, asking to speak. Reidner looked at him for a moment, then nodded, giving him permission to continue.
— I get what you're trying to do, man, but there's one damn detail we need to add to that — Edvaldo shifted in his chair, his eyes filled with urgency. — What we need most right now is to stop being this little group and build a strong community, one that's tough enough to withstand the end of the world.
The room fell silent for a moment. Edvaldo then continued, his voice firm:
— And above all, we need a new base. Somewhere walled off. Safe. Because if we keep going like this… we're just waiting to die.
Alonso looked at Edvaldo, reflecting on what he had just said. The idea of building a strong community made sense. They needed a safe place, a refuge that could protect them from the chaos outside. So, without thinking much about it, he blurted out:
— I know the perfect place for that right here in the neighborhood!
There was a spark of excitement in his voice, something rare these days.
Reidner raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.
— Well, spit it out, José.
— The school down the street, where Jão used to study — Alonso replied immediately. — The place is huge, has high walls and a massive gate. You can even drive cars inside. Besides, there are several classrooms we could turn into bedrooms, and there's already a fully equipped kitchen.
The group listened in silence. For a moment, it seemed like a viable idea. But before João could say anything—as he knew the place better than anyone—Camille noticed that he was distant, lost in thought.
She then took the initiative.
— The idea would be great… if the school weren't infested with infected.
The silence was broken.
— And I know that because if Bruno hadn't come up with a plan to get us out of there, Jão and I would be dead… or worse.
The weight of the memory hung over the room. No one questioned it. No one doubted her.
That was when a cold, determined voice cut through the moment.
— That's the least of our problems.
Everyone turned toward the door. Samira was standing there, her gaze sharp as a blade.
Daniel frowned.
— What do you mean, "the least of our problems"?
Samira took a step forward, looking at each of them as if she were stating the obvious. Her expression was distant, calculating.
— If we use our heads, we can kill every single one of them without putting ourselves at the slightest risk.
The group remained silent, waiting for her to explain.
— It's simple — she continued. — We prepare some glass bottles with alcohol, make Molotov cocktails, and gather the infected in one spot. Then we set them on fire.
Everyone's eyes turned to João, who finally snapped out of his trance and rubbed his tired eyes before adding:
— It could work really well. If we attack from the rooftops, we'll be safe. And getting up there is easy… I'll show you the way and the section of the wall we can use to get inside.
The idea seemed risky, but it made sense. The plan was straightforward, practical, and, above all, possible.
One by one, everyone began to agree. By the end of the meeting, the decision had been made: at dawn, they would put the plan into action.
The next day, the school would no longer be a nest of infected. It would become the first step toward something greater.
Dawn broke, painting the sky in shades of orange and slowly dispelling the darkness that hung over the devastated city. The smell of smoke, mold, and decay lingered in the air, reminding everyone that the world as they knew it had fallen apart.
Everyone was already on their feet, fully aware of what they needed to do once they left.
The night before, they had established three teams to maintain organization and increase their chances of survival. Reidner and Alonso would be responsible for future planning, developing strategies to secure supplies, strengthen their defenses, and find potential allies. João Paulo and Arthur would form the scouting team; João, although slower, knew the streets better than anyone and could recognize patterns in the infected's behavior, while Arthur, the fastest in the group, was agile enough to escape difficult situations and also one of the bravest when it came to facing danger.
Camille and Daniel would be in charge of the supplies, making sure everything was properly stored and distributed efficiently. The others would divide themselves among these smaller groups as needed, at least until the group grew larger and new roles became necessary.
It was almost nine o'clock when everyone left to gather the materials needed to prepare the Molotov cocktails. The weather was stifling, and an unsettling silence hung in the air. Although they didn't see many infected at that hour, no one allowed themselves to relax. Every corner, every shadow, and every half-open door was an invitation to paranoia.
Moving quickly, they reached the market on the same street. The place had already been looted, but they still found some rags and twenty bottles of 70% alcohol scattered among the overturned shelves. The smell of rotten food was almost unbearable, coming from unplugged freezers and garbage bags that had burst open across the floor. Insects buzzed through the stuffy air, adding to the discomfort.
They headed to a small bar nearby, where they found thirty empty beer bottles. Some still had traces of stale beer inside, and the sour smell mingled with that of old cigarettes and accumulated grime. To get the remaining bottles they needed, they had to search abandoned cars in the street, draining the gasoline from their tanks. The process was time-consuming, but essential.
Their organization was flawless. Daniel and Edvaldo found two cars in the market's parking lot, with the keys still in the ignition—a stroke of incredible luck. Meanwhile, Arthur, Anael, and Raziel loaded the vehicles with the bottles, checking that they were securely closed to prevent accidents. The girls, meanwhile, prepared quick snacks for the trip, using the few supplies they still had.
After some time, they were ready to leave.
The road to the school seemed more desolate than usual. Reidner watched the surrounding scenery, feeling an increasing sense of unease. Mutilated bodies lay scattered across the asphalt, some already in an advanced state of decomposition. Flies swarmed around the bloated corpses, landing on exposed wounds and gaping mouths frozen in expressions of horror. Crashed cars blocked parts of the street, some with dried blood smeared across their windows.
But what drew the most attention was the absence of infected.
— It's strange… — Samira murmured, looking around with a tense expression. — I don't see any dogs in the streets.
The comment made the silence even more oppressive.
— Maybe the infected ate them. — Anael replied without taking his eyes off the ruins of the city.
Alicia, who hadn't spoken in a while, finally gave her opinion:
— I don't think so. If they'd been caught, we'd see bodies around here. Most likely, they ran away. The infected must have moved somewhere else, and the animals noticed before we did.
The thought that the infected might be migrating to some unknown place left a bitter taste in Reidner's mouth. Where were they going? And why?
When they reached the school, João Paulo got straight to the point:
— Let's leave the cars inside the storage building. We'll climb up from the side, just like we did when we escaped from here. Arthur, grab some hammers from the storage shop so we can make holes in the wall and climb over it.
Arthur simply nodded in silence and walked away, following João's orders without question. Samira and Camille, wasting no time, grabbed the boxes containing the Molotov cocktails and positioned them near the walls, preparing everything for the plan. As soon as Arthur returned, the others began making holes in the wall so they could climb over it, their hands covered in dust and cement as they worked hurriedly.
The sound of the tools striking the concrete echoed through the abandoned courtyard, and it wasn't long before it attracted the attention of some infected wandering around inside the school. Their guttural groans grew louder as they approached, their deformed silhouettes casting distorted shadows against the graffiti-covered walls. Their bodies crowded together, driven by the primitive instinct to move toward the source of the noise, clawing at the wall and leaving sticky trails of dried blood and putrid secretions behind.
After what felt like an eternity, the holes were finally ready. Now came the most dangerous part: looking over to the other side. To make sure the plan wasn't a collective suicide mission, Reidner and Arthur climbed up first, hauling themselves over with effort until they had a clear view of the inside of the school. What they saw made their hearts race and drained all the color from their faces.
The infected moving around inside weren't like those wandering the streets. They were… different. Their bodies had undergone grotesque alterations, as if the infection were shaping them into new forms of nightmare. Some had elongated arms, their hands transformed into sharp, bony claws. Others had disproportionately massive muscles, with bulging veins and split skin, as though they were on the verge of exploding. But that wasn't the worst of it.
A little farther ahead, Reidner and Arthur spotted a group of infected devouring their own kind. But this wasn't simply the instinct of hunger—it was a cannibalistic frenzy. The sounds of biting and cracking bones mingled with their hungry growls. And then, right before their horrified eyes, the bodies of the devourers began to change. Their limbs expanded grotesquely, spines elongated into deformed protrusions, and extra eyes emerged beneath their torn skin. Every piece of flesh they consumed seemed to accelerate their mutation, transforming them into something even more aberrant.
Arthur swallowed hard, his voice coming out low and trembling:
— Guys… things went really bad on the other side. They're… changing. Those things… they're becoming something else. Cannibalistic monsters.
His body was rigid, gripped by paralyzing fear. If those creatures started getting out of the school and spreading throughout the city… what would happen? How many more would evolve into even more terrifying forms?
Reidner felt every fiber of his being warning him that facing those things head-on meant certain death. They wouldn't stand a chance against those mutant horrors. With trembling hands, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opened the camera, and started recording. The world needed to see this. If the online network was still working, he would upload the video to whatever platform he could. Anyone who was still alive needed to know what was happening. The apocalypse hadn't stopped. It was evolving.
Anael, however, showed no hesitation. His eyes remained fixed on the monsters on the other side, but his body stayed firm, determined. He clenched his fists, his eyes burning with resolve.
— If these things are changing as they feed, that means they're still evolving rapidly. But that doesn't change what we came here to do — his voice was strong, leaving no room for doubt. — We discovered them first. That means it's our responsibility to put an end to them before it's too late.
He gave the others a confident look, then glanced at the boxes of Molotov cocktails.
— These bastards may be changing, but fire is still fire. We're taking this school back.
The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of rain beginning to fall, heavy and cold, streaming down the filthy concrete walls of the school. Yet the cold they felt didn't come from the water. It came from the certainty that, once they went in there, there would be no turning back.