Day 21: The Mansion of the Forgotten
Xenia opened her knitted bag and took out the folded, slightly torn map. She squinted in the dimming light as she traced the inked lines with her finger.
"Gabriel camps near SilverMoon Cay. This forest... it's part of Theremis. It's a small zone." She looked up. "Tenorio, are you planning to check every corner of this island?"
"That's the plan," Tenorio replied with conviction, adjusting his belt and machete. "Did you recover already? Let's keep moving. This place doesn't look safe."
"I haven't even caught my breath yet!" Xenia grumbled, still winded from the hike.
"Stop acting like a child, Xenia," Tenorio snapped. "Rest when we're safe."
Grumbling under her breath, she got back on her feet and followed as they resumed their exploration. The thick canopy overhead filtered the light, making everything darker than it should've been at this hour. Every crackle of a twig set them on edge.
Minutes later, low growls echoed through the trees.
Zombies.
Three of them stumbled out from behind the brush—cloaked in blood, rotting skin barely clinging to their bones. Xenia stumbled back. She was too drained to fight.
"Strike their legs—slow them down! They're top-heavy! And go for the eyes if you can!" she commanded, voice hoarse but firm.
Tenorio swung his machete clean through one's knee, toppling it. Rafe moved like a predator, jabbing with the crowbar and slicing with the blade he fashioned. The third zombie lunged toward Xenia, but Rafe's crowbar embedded itself in its skull just in time.
Breathing heavily, Xenia wiped her forehead. "Okay. I vote we head back. It's getting dark. And frankly, that was the creepiest bunch of undead I've seen."
Tenorio ignored her and pressed on. Rafe shrugged and followed him.
"You guys suck," Xenia muttered, dragging her feet behind them.
Four minutes later, something glinted in the distance.
"I see something," she said. "Wait... is that a mansion? Like, seriously?"
They approached a large iron gate, half-covered in vines. Behind it loomed an old, stone mansion, vines crawling over the brick walls, windows shattered in places, but parts of it still eerily intact.
"If it's locked from the outside," Xenia said, inspecting the gate, "that means someone locked it on purpose—maybe to contain something. That place screams 'bad news.'"
"Or someone just abandoned it," Rafe offered. "Let's check it out."
Tenorio nodded. "Careful. Stay sharp."
Xenia glanced around, nervous. She considered suggesting they set up camp elsewhere. But the mansion looked stocked—there might be food, medicine, or even a bed. Her brain was torn between logic and fatigue.
As she hesitated, lost in thought, a zombie in a maid's uniform crept up behind her. With a guttural growl, it lunged.
"XENIA!" Rafe shouted, slamming his crowbar into its skull. The body dropped with a thud.
Xenia shrieked. "Okay, okay! Mansion equals bad! Noted!"
Tenorio stepped forward, eyes scanning the dark windows.
"Your assumption was probably right. Let's be careful. Whoever locked this place... might've known something we don't."
Just then, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Stop right there!"
A woman dressed in a military uniform stepped from the shadows, rifle raised. Her short, dark hair was matted with sweat, and her face bore the weathered look of someone who hadn't slept well in days.
"We're survivors," Tenorio said quickly, raising his hands.
"Why did you open the gate?" the woman barked. "This place is dangerous!"
Before they could answer, another zombie emerged from behind a bush. Without hesitation, the woman fired a single shot.
The shot echoed.
And then, like a hive awakened, dozens of groans rose from inside the mansion.
"Oh crap," Xenia breathed. "You just rang the dinner bell!"
Rafe grabbed her hand and pulled her away as more zombies spilled from the shadows. "RUN!"
Tenorio covered them, taking out several with clean swings—but he was low on bullets. He fired one last shot.
Click.
Empty.
A horde was approaching fast, trapping him near the front steps. Rather than risk being torn apart, Tenorio turned the gun on himself. With a grim expression, he pulled the trigger.
A sharp echo.
"Tenorio!!!" Rafe screamed.
The soldier—eyes wide with guilt—turned and ran for the gate. "We have to lock it again! Now!"
Zombies grabbed at her sleeves, biting the air inches from her face. Xenia, still in shock, hesitated.
"HELP HER!" Rafe yelled.
Snapping out of it, Xenia rammed her shoulder into the gate, helping slam it shut. Rafe used his katana to hack away at the grabbing hands. With a final push, the bolt slid into place.
Panting, they stared at each other.
"This is YOUR fault!" Rafe shouted at the woman.
She snapped back. "If you hadn't opened the gate without permission—"
"You fired a gun, and it brought every corpse in the area straight to us!"
"Enough!" Xenia yelled. "Just stop. Tenorio's dead! Don't make it worse."
The woman's face softened. "I'm... I'm sorry for your loss. But you shouldn't have been near that mansion. It was the birthday estate of the town's chief. There were hundreds of guests when the outbreak happened. I was tasked to secure the site... and I barely survived. I locked the gate to trap them in."
Her explanation gave them pause.
Xenia inhaled sharply. "You were stationed there?"
"Yes. I was a local soldier. My name's Thalia."
Rafe lowered his weapon but remained cold. "So what now?"
"I'm sorry again. If you have a camp, I won't stop you from returning. But I'd like to offer you a safe place for the night. My base is nearby."
"We can't go back yet," Xenia muttered. "We haven't gathered much. How do we explain this to our people?"
"You have people?" Thalia asked.
"We built a fortified camp. We were supposed to explore, find survivors, and bring back resources. Tenorio wanted a vehicle for future travels. Now... we're just three."
Thalia's expression darkened with guilt. "Follow me. My place is not far."
They moved quickly, keeping low. Less than two minutes from the mansion, they reached a massive tree with a cleverly hidden ladder of ropes and planks. Thalia climbed first, then helped Xenia and Rafe ascend.
Inside the treehouse was a small, well-fortified shelter made from salvaged planks, tarps, and military canvas. A camp stove sat in one corner. Dried herbs and canned goods were neatly organized.
And in the corner, curled up under a wool blanket, was a boy around seven years old.
He blinked, curious and cautious, his blue eyes identical to Thalia's.
"This is my son, Tyrone," she said, softening. "And I'm Thalia, as I mentioned. We've been here since day one."
"Nice to meet you both," Xenia said, managing a tired smile. "I'm Xenia. That's Rafe."
"Who are they, Mom?" Tyrone asked.
"They're visitors," Thalia replied. "Good people who lost someone brave today."
Rafe removed his backpack and slumped onto the floor. "We were hoping to save lives... now we're just trying to survive again."
"Sit down," Thalia said gently. "Have some herbal tea. It's not much, but it's warm. Tell me more about your camp."
And so they sat, on the wooden floor, the night dark and quiet outside. No zombies, no gunfire—just the hush of wind through leaves.
And somewhere in the silence, Xenia hoped Tenorio was watching.
From a distance.
In peace.