"W-what is that thing?" someone whispered, their voice filled with terror. The shovel in their hands nearly slipped to the ground.
No one answered, but a terrifying thought surfaced in everyone's mind. 'This isn't a living person at all!'
Then, from more than one place—from within the ruins, from beneath collapsed houses, from beside piles of trash—came more faint, rustling sounds. One after another, the same eerie figures crawled out. They shuffled about aimlessly, slowly closing in on the scent of the living. The stench of rot grew thicker, mingling with the musty air in a way that made one's skin crawl.
Silas Hawthorne's gaze turned icy. He tightened his grip on his weapon and yelled in a low voice, "Careful! They're zombies! Everyone grab a weapon!"
The moment he spoke, the people, who had just moments ago been striving to rebuild their homes, were instantly plunged into an unprecedented panic.
