Chapter 4: The Night Watch

Owen sat near the back entrance of the store, resting his arms on his knees as he stared into the darkness outside. The night stretched on, silent and still, except for the distant sounds of the occasional Ghoul roaming in the shadows.

He didn’t sleep.

He rarely ever needed to.

His body functioned differently now, requiring only about three hours of rest before he felt completely fine. He could go for twenty-one hours without fatigue weighing him down, and even when exhaustion did creep in, it was nothing compared to what he saw in the faces of the other survivors.

Humans grew sluggish when deprived of rest. He didn’t.

The others had fallen asleep hours ago, scattered throughout the grocery store in makeshift sleeping arrangements. Owen stayed where he was, watching over them, listening to every little sound outside the barricades.

By the time the first signs of morning light threatened the horizon, the scout team began to gather.

Alyssa was the first to arrive, baseball bat slung over her shoulder. She moved with the precision of someone who had been doing this for a long time—calculating, cautious, always aware of her surroundings.

She didn’t acknowledge Owen at first, just gave him a sharp glance before pulling out a worn notebook from her backpack. One by one, the rest of the scout team trickled in, some yawning, some still shaking off the stiffness of sleep.

“All right,” Alyssa said, flipping through the pages. “We’ve got a lot to cover before we head out, so listen up.”

She glanced down at the names written on the page, calling them out in turn.

“Kevin?”

“Here.”

“Riley?”

“Present.”

She continued down the list until reaching the last name.

“Owen.”

Owen nodded. “Here.”

Alyssa gave him a lingering look before marking something down. She was still wary of him—he could tell. She had been ever since they met.

He didn’t blame her.

Once role call was done, Alyssa pulled out a worn, slightly torn map and spread it on a nearby crate. The others gathered around, and Owen leaned in slightly, scanning the marked locations.

“Our targets for today,” she began, tapping the map with her finger, “are an auto body shop and a dollar store. Both are just a few blocks from here, and we’re hoping they haven’t been completely stripped of supplies yet.”

She straightened and crossed her arms. “We’re prioritizing oil, gas, adhesives, and anything that can reinforce our defenses. That includes tools, batteries, and any kind of wiring we can find.”

One of the scouts, a young guy named Ethan, frowned. “What about weapons?”

Alyssa shook her head. “Not our main priority right now. If we find something useful, we take it, but we’re not going out of our way for it. We’re here to strengthen what we already have, not risk our lives looking for something we might not even find.”

She looked at each of them in turn. “Understood?”

A few nods. A few reluctant shrugs.

Owen remained silent, but he could feel the tension in the group. They were scared. They tried not to show it, but he could see it in their eyes—the hesitation, the nerves.

They didn’t want to run into Ghouls.

Alyssa seemed to sense it, too, because her expression hardened. “Ghouls should be going dormant right now. They’re mostly nocturnal, so this is our best window before they start waking up again. That doesn’t mean we let our guard down.”

She pointed to a path marked in red. “We need to get there and back safely. If anything goes wrong, we fall back to this alleyway here. No splitting up. No heroics. If you get cornered, you fight or run.”

There was a brief pause before she turned her attention to Owen.

“You’re in the front.”

Owen blinked. “What?”

Alyssa’s expression didn’t waver. “You’re scouting ahead. We need eyes on the streets, and since you’re new, you get the dangerous job.”

Owen could feel the subtle distrust behind her words. She wanted to test him, to see if he could handle himself.

For most people, being the first in line was a death sentence—an open invitation for a Ghoul to tear them apart.

But Owen wasn’t most people.

He nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Fine by me.”

Alyssa narrowed her eyes slightly but said nothing else.

“Let’s move.”

The streets were eerily quiet as the group moved in a tight formation, sticking to the shadows.

Owen led the way, his senses dialed in, scanning every scent, every sound. He could pick up the faint traces of decaying flesh lingering in the air—some fresh, some old—but none of it too close.

He slowed his steps, focusing.

Nothing moving nearby. No heavy breathing. No scuttling of feet. The Ghouls were resting.

Good.

He signaled the others to follow, keeping his movements controlled, blending into the environment as naturally as a predator in its element. The others mimicked him, trying to match his stealth.

Alyssa watched him carefully. He could feel her gaze burning into his back.

He kept moving.

They weaved through the broken streets, past overturned cars and abandoned storefronts. The sunlight was weak, barely filtering through the dense buildings, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement.

Finally, the auto body shop came into view.

The metal roll-up doors were halfway open, and the windows were shattered. The place had clearly been ransacked before, but there still might be something useful left inside.

Owen gave a short whistle—all clear.

The group hurried inside, keeping their movements quiet.

Alyssa immediately took charge. “Spread out. Check the shelves, the toolboxes, any storage areas. Grab whatever looks useful.”

The team got to work, moving through the garage carefully. Owen drifted toward the back, scanning for anything worth taking.

His fingers brushed over an old gas canister. It still had weight to it. He twisted the cap off slightly and took a sniff—gasoline.

“Found fuel,” he called out, lifting the canister.

Alyssa turned to him, eyes sharp. “Good. Keep looking.”

Owen kept searching, grabbing a few wrenches, duct tape, and some loose batteries he found scattered on a workbench. He heard the others doing the same, stuffing whatever they could into their packs.

Kevin, one of the younger scouts, grinned. “Found some oil, too. Guess today’s our lucky day.”

Alyssa gave a small nod. “Keep moving. The faster we finish here, the sooner we can hit the dollar store.”

Owen felt a small tug at the corners of his mouth. Everything was going smoothly.

But experience told him that never lasted.

He glanced toward the shattered window, his golden eyes narrowing.

They weren’t alone.

Owen’s nose twitched.

Something was off.

A strange scent drifted through the air, different from the lingering decay of Ghouls or the stale, dust-filled remnants of the ruined city.

Fresh blood.

But it wasn’t just blood—it was human.

His muscles tensed instinctively. This wasn’t the scent of corpses or the dying. This was the scent of the living.

And there was a lot of it.

Without thinking, Owen slipped away from the group, moving between the scattered debris and broken shelves. He made sure his steps were silent, his movements controlled, blending into the dim corners of the auto body shop. The others were too busy gathering supplies to notice.

Alyssa would be suspicious, but he didn’t care.

He needed to find out who was nearby.

He needed to know if they were a threat.

Owen moved like a shadow, creeping through the cracked garage door and out into the ruined streets. His golden eyes scanned the dim morning light, his ears picking up distant murmurs.

He followed the scent, weaving through the alleyways with inhuman precision, stepping over debris without making a sound.

Then he saw them.

Fifteen men and women, all armed.

Machetes, shotguns, pistols—some of them even had military-grade rifles slung over their backs. Their gear wasn’t scavenged junk; it was well-maintained, well-used.

They’ve been killing. A lot.

Owen crouched behind the husk of a rusted car, observing them carefully. They weren’t wandering aimlessly. They were patrolling. Searching.

Looking for something.

Or someone.

His hands curled into fists. His first instinct was to kill them all before they could get anywhere near the group. Rip their hearts out. Slash their throats. Crush their skulls.

He could do it.

He could end them here and now.

But if the others found him standing over fifteen dead bodies, drenched in blood, with no weapons in sight…

They would know.

They would know he wasn’t human.

Mark and the others still didn’t understand Ghouls, not really. They assumed rotting skin meant weakness, that decay made them easier to kill. But Owen knew the truth.

Rot didn’t matter. Strength didn’t fade.

A human was different. Their bodies were fragile. Their flesh tore easily—their bones broke easily. If he killed them with nothing but his bare hands, it would be too obvious.

Too inhuman.

Owen gritted his teeth, forcing himself to let go of the overwhelming urge to attack.

He had to go back.

He had to warn them.

Back to the Auto Shop.

Owen moved just as quickly and quietly as before, his heightened senses making it easy to retrace his steps without detection. By the time he reentered the building, the others were finishing up, loading supplies into their bags.

Before he could properly settle back in, a voice cut through the room.

“Owen.”

Alyssa.

Her tone was sharp, laced with suspicion.

Owen turned to see her standing near the workbenches, arms crossed, eyes locked onto him with an untrusting gaze.

“Where’d you run off to?”

Owen didn’t flinch. “Bathroom,” he lied easily.

Alyssa’s expression didn’t change. She stared at him for a moment, her fingers tapping idly against the wooden handle of her bat.

She didn’t believe him.

She didn’t say it out loud, but it was written all over her face.

Owen kept his posture relaxed, pretending not to care. Let her be suspicious. Let her doubt him. As long as she didn’t have proof, she couldn’t do anything about it.

After a long pause, Alyssa let out a quiet huff and turned away.

She wasn’t buying his lie, but she wasn’t going to push it.

Not yet.

Owen took a slow breath and glanced around at the others. They were all still packing up, unaware of what he had just seen outside.

He needed to warn them.

He stepped closer to Alyssa, lowering his voice. “We should go. Now.”

Alyssa narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“I have a bad feeling.”

Alyssa scoffed. “That’s not a reason.”

“It’s enough of one,” Owen insisted, keeping his tone calm but firm. “We have what we need. No point in sticking around.”

Alyssa’s jaw tightened. She still didn’t trust him, didn’t like him. But she wasn’t reckless—she wouldn’t ignore a potential danger.

After a tense pause, she sighed. “Fine. Let’s move.”