Towards Safety. Towards Hope.

Benjamin rounds the corner into the side yard, bat raised, and the whole scene snaps into view. The fence is split open, one rail hanging by a thread, and daylight cuts through the gap like a warning.

A second undead figure claws at the splintered wood, half-stuck in the break, shoulders grinding as it forces itself forward. Dead leaves and broken boards skid under its hands.

Benjamin closes the distance fast, the bat coming down in a hard, clean arc toward the creature's head before it can pull free.

The blow lands with a wet crack, snapping the undead figure sideways against the fence gap and stopping its crawl cold.

With the breach exposed, the three of them stare into the dark beyond the fence, where more movement could still be coming toward Benjamin's house.

Benjamin scans the interior of the house through the open doorway, but the rooms remain empty and silent. No other survivors are hiding within the walls.

Benjamin moves along the house edge and studies the torn fence line. The gap is wide, splintered, and empty.

He crouches near the broken boards, bat held low, and checks for footprints, blood trails, or anyone hidden in the brush.

Only disturbed grass and a dragged smear of dirt answer him. No fresh tracks lead away from the breach.

Benjamin spots a narrow shadow between the siding and a leaning panel of fence, then sees it is just a fallen plank and scattered leaves.

Benjamin straightens at the gap, the yard still and ugly around him. Whatever came through here is gone, but the open break still begs for a choice.