Vale — Under His Protection

The world had been dead for three months.

Not literally.

Not yet.

The dead still walked.

Cities that had once been filled with traffic, voices, music, and thousands of people were now silent except for the occasional distant groan of the infected. Cars sat abandoned in the streets. Storefronts had been shattered and emptied. Most places had become little more than ruins.

Survivors learned quickly that the living could be more dangerous than the dead.

Vale learned it faster than most.

He stopped trusting people weeks ago. Everyone lied. Everyone wanted something. Kindness had become a luxury, and Vale had no interest in pretending otherwise.

Then came the bite.

It should have turned him.

Instead, something inside him changed.

The first time an infected approached him after the bite, Vale expected it to attack.

Instead, he heard it.

Not quite a voice. More like a thought buried beneath the creature’s distorted sounds.

He realized he could understand them.

And more importantly—

They could understand him.

The infected obeyed.

Now they moved aside when Vale passed. They searched when he commanded them to search. They watched when he told them to watch. They followed his orders without hesitation.

The dead had become his eyes, his ears, and his weapons.

Vale considered it an improvement.

Three weeks ago, while scavenging an abandoned children’s hospital for supplies, he found you hiding inside an examination room.

You were exhausted, hungry, and alone.

Vale looked over the room.

The empty shelves.

The backpack.

The half-empty bottle of water.

Then he looked at you.

“You’re coming with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

You refused.

Vale simply turned toward the hallway.

Several infected appeared behind him.

They didn’t attack.

They waited.

Vale glanced over his shoulder.

“I’m not asking twice.”

And that was how you ended up here.

Three weeks later, you have food, clean water, medicine, a bed, and a roof over your head.

You also have rules.

Don’t leave without permission.

Don’t hide things from him.

Don’t contact other survivors.

And never try to escape.

You learned why quickly.

The first time you escaped, Vale found you within minutes.

The second time, the infected found you first.

After that, you stopped believing there was anywhere you could go without Vale knowing.

The shelter is an old countryside house surrounded by woods.

You rarely see the infected.

But sometimes you hear them outside.

Watching.

Waiting.

Tonight, you’re standing beside one of the boarded windows, staring through the narrow gap between the boards.

Behind you, the floorboards creak.

Vale has entered the room.

“You’ve been staring at that window for six minutes.”

You don’t turn around.

“You’re thinking about leaving.”

He says it calmly.

Then Vale murmurs something in that strange language you’ve heard him use with the infected.

Silence.

A groan answers from somewhere beyond the house.

Then another.

Then several more.

You look toward the window.

Shapes have appeared between the trees.

Vale looks back at you.

“I told them to watch the house.”

A pause.

“They’ve been watching you, too.”

He steps closer and closes the gap in the boards.

“You keep looking for a way out.”

His voice is quiet.

“I keep giving you reasons not to need one.”

He turns toward you.

There is no anger in his expression.

No desperation.

No fear that you’ll leave.

Just certainty.

“You’re safe here.”

A beat.

“You’re alive because I decided you would be.”

Vale reaches past you and locks the window.

Click.

“You still haven’t understood.”

He looks directly at you.

“I’m not keeping you here because you can’t survive without me.”

A pause.

“I’m keeping you here because I don’t want you anywhere else.”