CHAPTER XXIX
Mon…
I've always wanted to tell you how I feel. Always. But every time I tried, the words just… disappeared.
"Ever since I found you, it feels like I've lost myself."
How do I explain that? How do I express what it means to have you — and yet still feel incomplete because I'm afraid of losing you?
I want to tell you so much. So many things that live quietly in my heart.
But whenever I try, I fall silent.
Because there are no words — not in any language — that can truly capture what you mean to me.
How do I say it?
How do I make you understand that your presence in my life has changed everything?
That when you smile, it feels like my world lights up?
That when you're hurt, I feel every bit of that pain in my own chest?
I've tried to write it down, to rehearse the words in my mind. I've played the conversations a thousand times in my head… but when I'm with you, all those words vanish.
Because nothing feels enough.
Not "I like you."
Not even "I love you."
Those words feel too small. Too ordinary.
You deserve something more — something infinite.
But I'm just me, Mon. Just someone who's hopelessly in love with you, trying to put into words what was never meant to be said — only felt.
So I'll say this much:
If finding you means losing myself, then I'd gladly stay lost forever.
And maybe, someday, when my silence makes more sense than my words ever could…
you'll finally understand everything I was never brave enough to say.
A sharp, throbbing pain surged through my head, forcing me out of my sleep.
The dream — the one that always brought me comfort — had faded away, and I was once again thrown back into the grim reality.
I hadn't even realized I had fallen asleep.
My helmet was still on. I slowly reached up, wincing with every small movement, and removed it. My fingers trembled as they brushed against the injury on my head — the wound had worsened.
The dried blood had caked around the cut, but fresh blood still trickled down.
I didn't know how many hours had passed. The pain in my body had only gotten worse, spreading like wildfire. Even lifting my hands was a struggle now.
I reached for my bag, desperate to get the first aid kit, but the weight of my injuries pressed heavily on me. Every joint, every bone, screamed in agony.
Just then, I heard a voice — soft, almost too soft for this dead silence.
"Can I help you?"
The words should've brought relief, but instead, they sent a chill down my spine.
My heart raced as I looked around frantically and shouted,
"Who's there?!"
From the shadows emerged a man.
He wasn't wearing any kind of protective gear — no helmet, no armor, nothing to defend himself from what lurked outside. Just a plain shirt and pants. Too normal for this abnormal world.
I stared at him suspiciously.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice laced with both fear and curiosity.
He gave me a calm smile.
"My name is Alex. I'm Evelyn's brother."
And at the mention of her name, as if summoned by the sound itself, Evelyn appeared right in front of me.
She rushed toward me, panic in her eyes.
"Sam! Are you okay? Did any zombie bite you? Oh god, how badly are you hurt?"
She crouched down and gently lifted me up, helping me sit against the cold, dusty wall of the mansion.
I looked at her, still in shock.
"Evelyn? I left you at the army camp… what are you doing here?"
She sighed deeply, pain flashing in her eyes.
"The army officers forced me to leave the camp. They found out I came from Germany… said it was too risky to keep me inside. Even though I came all this way to help find a cure for the virus, they treated me like a threat. All the people who escaped from Germany were showing no signs of infection — but the army didn't want to take chances. So for their so-called 'safety'... they threw me out."
My fists clenched.
"That's insane. They had no right to do that."
Evelyn shook her head, brushing away the anger.
"Forget that for now. First, let me take care of you."
As she began tending to my wound with practiced hands, I looked at her again.
"But… how did you even find me here?"
For a second, Evelyn hesitated. Her fingers froze against the bandage she was wrapping around my head.
Then she said, softly,
"We saw Mon."
My heart skipped a beat.
Evelyn continued,
"She was with the special forces. She kept saying one thing over and over — 'Bring Sam back. Make sure she's safe. She's not infected.' Her voice… Sam, she was so desperate. So full of fear. That's when we knew — you were somewhere in this village. Alive. Alone. And in pain."
I swallowed hard, emotions flooding my chest.
Mon…
She was still looking for me.
Still believing in me.
Still fighting… for me.
Evelyn gave a small smile as she tied the last knot on the bandage.
"So we searched. Every house, every corner… until we reached this abandoned mansion. And then we saw you… trying to move, broken and hurting."
I closed my eyes, overwhelmed.
Even in a world full of monsters, betrayal, and pain —
there were still some hearts that refused to give up on love.
And one of them…
was Mon.
Evelyn gently lifted me, supporting my back with surprising strength for someone so slender. She helped me sit upright against the wall and then carefully began cleaning the blood from my forehead. Her touch was tender, but even the gentlest pressure sent waves of pain rippling through my body. Still, I didn't flinch — I was too numb, too exhausted, and somewhere deep inside… too afraid.
Once she finished treating the wound on my head, Evelyn moved her hands lower, examining the rest of my injuries. She stopped when she reached my arms and shoulders. Her brows furrowed with concern.
She looked up at me, her voice soft but serious.
"Sam… some of your bones are broken."
My stomach sank. I hadn't even realized how badly I'd been hurt. Maybe the shock, or maybe the emotional chaos… had dulled everything else.
"You're lucky I had some emergency supplies with me," Evelyn continued. "I'll have to splint the fractures and wrap your arms in tight bandages to hold everything in place. But Sam… please listen — you can't move your arms too much after this. We don't have enough resources to treat you again. One wrong move, and…"
She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't need to.
I understood.
The next injury could be fatal.
I watched her work, her hands moving quickly but carefully, as she made makeshift splints from whatever she could find. There was a calm in her face, the calm of someone who had seen too much death and had learned to fight it with quiet defiance.
Despite the pain, despite everything I'd endured, one question lingered in my heart — heavier than all my wounds.
I looked at her with pleading eyes.
"Evelyn… is Mon okay?"
There was a moment of silence. Evelyn didn't answer immediately. She finished tightening a bandage before finally meeting my gaze.
"Sam," she said gently, "don't worry. She's strong. If anyone can make it through this… it's Mon."
I wanted to believe her. I needed to believe her.
But my chest ached with fear — not just from the pain, not just from the injuries — but from the thought of losing Mon in a world where nothing felt certain anymore.
And yet, Evelyn's words, soft and steady, echoed like a lifeline through my mind.
She's strong.
She'll make it.
And somehow… so will I.
Because even broken bones could heal.
Even blood could stop flowing.
But the love I carried for Mon?
That was the one thing — even in a world falling apart — that remained unbroken.
After Evelyn had finished treating my wounds and wrapping my broken bones with whatever limited supplies we had, I sat there — exhausted, aching, but a little more grounded.
That's when Alex sat down beside me and looked me in the eye, his tone suddenly more serious.
"Sam," he said, "do you know something strange? Almost all the people and animals infected by this zombie virus… they're still following their daily routines."
I frowned in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
Alex continued, his voice filled with a mix of awe and concern.
"I've seen infected humans still brushing their hair, pacing like they're going to work. Some just stand outside broken-down stores, like they're waiting in line… as if some memory of their old lives still lingers inside them."
I sat there, stunned by the idea.
"And not just that," he added, leaning forward, "I've witnessed zombies that don't even crave human blood. They devour fruits, vegetables — anything green, anything plant-based. I've seen them eat so much that their stomachs begin to swell unnaturally, like they might explode. It's disturbing. But it's also... unusual."
I blinked, trying to absorb what he was saying.
"But then, of course," he sighed, **"there are still those who hunt humans. Hungry. Mindless. Bloodthirsty."
"And that," he said grimly, "is what keeps the fear alive."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"How do you know all this?" I asked him quietly.
Before Alex could speak, Evelyn jumped in.
Her voice carried a mix of pride and sadness.
"My brother used to work with a scientific research team," she explained.
"He was assigned to study behavioral patterns — to observe and analyze the movements of different lifeforms. His work was about understanding instincts, habits, reactions… and now, that knowledge is helping us decode the infected."
I looked at Alex with a newfound respect.
"That's… incredible," I said. "If we can learn how these zombies behave — if we can find patterns — we might discover how to stop them. Or at least control them. Maybe even… find a cure."
But Alex shook his head solemnly.
"It's not that simple," he said. "The way the army is handling things… they're destroying everything in the infected zones. People, homes, even the infected who show signs of harmlessness — they're all wiped out after rescue. Their goal isn't to understand the virus. Their goal is to eliminate it."
His words struck a deep chord.
"If no zombies are left alive," he added, "how are we supposed to study them? Who will we create a cure for… when there's no one left to save?"
I looked down, heart heavy.
"That… that's something to really worry about," I murmured.
Evelyn stepped closer, her voice now firm — the voice of someone carrying a purpose greater than fear.
"That's why we're doing what we can," she said. "We travel from place to place, trying to stop the special forces from destroying everything. There are some zombies who are not threats — not anymore. Some might still have hope inside them. And we believe they hold answers. Answers the world needs."
She reached out and gently took my hand in hers.
Her touch wasn't just soft — it was reassuring. It was a bridge between despair and possibility.
She looked into my eyes and asked,
"Sam… will you join us? Will you fight — not just to survive — but to protect what's left of humanity?"
I stared at her.
My body was broken. My emotions were a tangled mess of pain, loss, and confusion.
I hadn't yet processed the weight of what I'd just heard.
But something in her eyes — the fire, the belief, the quiet strength — made me believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still something left to save.
Something worth fighting for.
And without fully understanding how or why, I nodded.
"Yes," I whispered. "I'll stand with you. For the truth. For hope. For all of us."
And in that moment…
I felt a shift inside me.
I was no longer just a survivor.
I was becoming something more.
A protector of the future.
To be continue....