One night, I was on watch, scanning the perimeter of the prison for any signs of danger. That's when I saw it - a figure standing just beyond the fence, watching us. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light, but as I looked closer, I realized that it was a person.
Or at least, it used to be a person.
The figure was standing perfectly still, its eyes fixed on the prison. I couldn't see its face clearly, but its posture seemed... unsettling.
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I watched the figure. It didn't move, didn't react to my presence. It just stood there, watching.
I called out to Nick and Danielle, and they joined me on watch. We observed the figure together, trying to make sense of its behavior.
"What do you think it's doing?" Danielle whispered.
"I don't know," I replied. "But I don't like it."
The figure didn't move or react, even as we watched it. It just stood there, its eyes fixed on the prison. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was waiting for something, or someone.
We watched the figure for what felt like hours, trying to understand its intentions. It didn't move or react, just stood there, its eyes fixed on the prison. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was waiting for an opportunity to strike.
As the night wore on, the figure didn't change its position. It was like a statue, frozen in place. I started to wonder if it was even human, or if it was something else entirely.
Nick, ever the pragmatist, suggested that it might be a survivor, someone who was lost or seeking help. But something didn't feel right. The way the figure stood, the way it watched us, it didn't seem like it was looking for assistance.
"I don't like it," Danielle said, her voice barely above a a whisper. "It feels wrong."
I nodded in agreement. There was something unsettling about the figure, something that didn't feel right.
As the night wore on, the figure didn't move. It just stood there, watching us. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished into the darkness.
We searched the perimeter, but there was no sign of the figure. It was as if it had disappeared into thin air.
"What do you think happened to it?" Nick asked, his voice low.
I shook my head. "I don't know, but I have a feeling we'll see it again."
The darkness seemed to swallow everything around us, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, even now. I glanced around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The prisons walls loomed above us, casting long shadows in the moonlight.
"I don't like this," Danielle said, her voice barely above a a whisper. "Can we get back inside where its safe?"
Nick nodded, and we followed him back into the prison. As we locked the doors behind us, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. But it was short-lived.
As we walked back to our cells, I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. A shadowy figure, lurking just out of sight. I spun around, but there was nothing there.
"Dylan, what's wrong?" Danielle asked, noticing the look on my face.
I hesitated, unsure of what to say. Had I really seen something, or was my imagination playing tricks on me? "Nothing," I said finally. "Just my imagination."
I slipped into bed beside Danielle. She murmured softly and snuggled closer to me, and I wrapped my arm around her, holding her tight. I pretended to sleep, keeping my breathing steady and slow, but my eyes were wide open, alert for any sign of danger.
The darkness outside seemed to press in around us, and I could feel the weight of the figures gaze, even though I knew it was just my imagination. Or was it?
As the minutes ticked by, I felt a sense of tension building inside me. I was waiting for something, but I didn't know what. And then, suddenly, I heard it. A faint scratching sound, coming from outside our cell.
My heart racing I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. The scratching grew louder, and I could sense the figures presence, hovering just outside our door. I felt Danielle stir beside me, but she didn't wake up.
The scratching stopped, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, the door creaked open, and a figure loomed in the doorway. I waited until it took a step closer, and then my hand slid stealthily under my pillow, searching for the knife I had hidden there. My fingers closed around the handle, and I gripped it tightly, ready to strike.
The figure took another step closer, its eyes fixed on us. I could feel its gaze on Danielle, and my grip on the knife tightened. I was ready to defend her, to defend us both. And then, I saw its face.
It was twisted and distorted, the skin gray and decaying. But it was the eyes that caught my attention. They were cold, calculating, and seemed to bore into my very soul.
This was no ordinary zombie. It was something different, something worse. And it was coming for us.
The zombies took another step closer, its eyes fixed on Danielle. I could see the hunger in its gaze, the desire to feed. My grip on the knife tightened, and I prepared to strike.
But I waited, waiting for the perfect moment. The zombies leaned forward, its mouth wide open, revealing jagged teeth. It was going to attack.
In a swift motion, I sat up and swung the knife at the zombies. I aimed straight for its head, trying to strike with precision. The zombies was fast, but I managed to land a solid blow, plunging the knife deep into its temple.
The zombies let out a guttural moan and stumbled backward, its eyes glazing over. I pulled the knife out, and the zombies collapsed to the ground, finally still.
Danielle sat up, her eyes wide with fear. "Dylan, oh my god!" She cried, throwing her arms around me.
I held her tight, feeling a mix of relief and adrenaline. "It's okay, it's over," I whispered.
As we caught our breath, Danielle looked up at me, her eyes filled with fear. "What was that thing?" She whispered.
I shook my head. "I don't know, but it's not like any zombies I've ever seen before."
We both knew that this type of zombie was different. It's speed, its strength, its calculating gaze - it was a new threat, one we needed to be prepared for.
Danielle and I exchanged a look. We both knew that this new type of zombie was different from the ones we had encountered before.
"What do you think we should call them?" Danielle asked, her voice still shaking slightly.
I thought for a moment, trying to come up with a term that fit their behavior. "How about Markers?" I suggested. "They seem to mark their target and wait for the perfect moment to strike."
Danielle nodded, here eyes widening in understanding. "That's fitting. Markers it is."
Just then, the door burst open and Nick rushed in, his face etched with concern. "What happened?" He demanded, taking in the scene before him.
I stood there, covered in blood, the dead lurker at my feet. Danielle was clinging to me me, tears streaming down her face. Nick's eyes widened in shock as he took in the sight of the dead zombie and the blood splatter.
And then, Nick's gaze fell on the lurker's face. His eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. "Wait a minute," he said, his voice low. "This is the thing we saw outside the prison. The one that was watching us."
I felt a chill run down my spine as I realized the truth. The lurker that had attacked us was the same one that had been watching us from outside the prison.
Danielle's grip on me tightened. "What does it mean?" She whispered.
I shook my head. "I don't know, but I think we're in more danger than we thought."
Nick's face was grim. "We'll talk about it later. For now, let's clean up and get rid of the body. We don't want to attract any more attention."
With that, we began the grim task of disposing of the lurker's body, our minds racing with questions and fears about what this new development meant for our survival.