Commander Li stood where he had been for longer than he should have.
It was like he was rooted in that one spot, his gaze fixed on the front window even though there was nothing left outside worth watching.
The yard was quiet now, stripped clean of anything and everything that could have hinted at what had gone on, but the absence of the bodies did nothing to settle the unease sitting in his chest.
He had seen the horde, he had heard it, he had smelled it. He had counted what he could and estimated when the numbers got too high. He had watched the zombies close in from every direction with the kind of certainty that usually ended in the death of everyone.
He had prepared himself mentally, he had planned it all out in his head. There was still one last bullet in his sidearm. There was one last bullet in all his men's sidearms.
And they were more than willing to pull that trigger.
But then, at the eleventh hour, it had simply… stopped.
No, stopped was the wrong word.
