Requiem of the Dead

Snow clung to every surface of the compound, drifts piling against the recently patched fences. Crisp winter air stung like needles on exposed skin. Despite the cold, tension in the shelter ran hotter than ever. It began with offhand comments: survivors murmuring about having heard a name—Jace—whispered by the two newcomers who'd just joined under scrutiny. No direct confirmation, but enough to spark a wave of gossip.

Early one morning, Leila stepped out of the main hall into the courtyard. She overheard a hushed conversation between two older members, Bernice and Harold, both of whom had been around since the early days of the apocalypse. Their voices carried in the still air, though they spoke in low tones.

"I heard the new arrivals mention a man called Jace," Bernice said, glancing around warily. "Could that be the same Jace… from the old fiasco?"

Harold grunted, eyes flicking over the frost-laden orchard. "Could be. Remember when we first holed up in that department store? Folks said Jace and Ellie took it over, left Leila out to die. She survived somehow. Word was they were ruthless."

Leila's stomach twisted. She lingered behind a stack of crates, not wanting them to see her eavesdropping. The memory threatened to claw free of the mental box she'd shoved it into—that day they'd forced her out to the zombies, Jace's cold eyes and Ellie's smirking face.

It had taken everything for her to rebuild her life in the time-loop and carve out a sanctuary here. Hearing Jace's name again felt like stepping onto thin ice—her blood ran cold. For a moment, her hands clenched into fists. She forced herself to remain calm, stepping out to greet them with a neutral expression. The two members stiffened, shame flickering in their eyes at possibly being caught gossiping.

"Morning," Leila said briskly. "Need any help?"

They both shook their heads rapidly, exchanging glances as she walked on, tension coiling in her chest. She couldn't blame them for the rumors—fear of Jace and Ellie had taken root once again.

That night, sleep eluded Leila. She lay in a cramped bunk, half-buried under blankets to stave off the biting cold. Outside, the wind howled, rattling window boards. Every time she closed her eyes, memories battered her mind: images of Jace's once-loving smile from their college days, how they used to study at the campus café, her heart brimming with trust in him. Then a flip to the apocalypse timeline—a cold smirk, his betrayal with Ellie, leaving Leila to the zombies in that department store. She could practically feel the scratch of undead nails the moment he kicked her into a throng of walkers.

She jolted awake, breath ragged. The bunk room was dark except for the faint glow of a lantern in the corridor. Heart hammering, she realized she'd only dozed for a brief time. It's happening again, she thought, hugging her knees. Every time rumors of Jace resurface, the nightmares come back.

She confided in no one. The fear that people might see her as weak—especially after months of leading them—clamped her mouth shut. The sting of betrayal burned fresh in her mind, overshadowing any desire to open up. I can handle this alone, she told herself, feeling a traitorous tear threaten to slip free. She refused it.

A few days later, watchers spotted new footprints near the orchard's edge. Tamsin's faction insisted on doubling guard shifts again. Mark and Darren formed a search party, but by the time they scoured the trees, whoever left the prints was gone. Anxiety crept through the community: the newcomers' vague tales of "ruthless leaders" and older members whispering about Jace and Ellie fueled paranoia.

Kai took on extra watch duty, quietly ensuring the fence corner that had collapsed earlier remained fortified. He noticed Leila's distant behavior—dark circles under her eyes, a stiffness in how she interacted with everyone, like she braced for a blow. As they both worked on perimeter checks, he offered a gentle, "You sure you're all right? You look tired."

She forced a clipped nod. "Just nightmares," she admitted grudgingly. "Happens in winter, I guess." She avoided his gaze, refusing to add details. The mention of Jace hovered on her tongue, but fear sealed her lips. Don't open old wounds.

Kai studied her, quiet concern etched in his features. He suspected deeper scars than "just nightmares." But he respected her reticence, stepping aside to let her maintain the stoic facade. Still, his eyes followed her often, as if searching for the key to break her silent torment.

Word spread among older members who recalled the time they'd sought refuge in a large department store before eventually forming this current shelter. Some recounted how Jace and Ellie had seized control, turning on even their own allies, leaving many to die or be cast out. Murmured stories about "Leila nearly got devoured, but somehow survived—like a miracle." Younger members, never having witnessed that drama, swapped uneasy glances. "Could Jace be out there, leading a band of raiders?"

Leila overheard these whispers as she carried a crate of ration supplies to the main hall. Each retelling stabbed at her, fueling fresh nightmares. She'd become adept at wearing a mask of unfeeling leadership, but inside, her nerves frayed. The memory of Jace's voice—"You're just a liability. We'll handle the apocalypse without you."—echoed whenever she tried to rest.

Though fear churned in her gut, Leila refused to address the rumors publicly. She confided in no one, not even Fiona, not Kai—fearful that acknowledging her personal stake in Jace's return might undermine her composure, or spark panic among the community. The newcomers' warnings about "ruthless leaders" bent on revenge only heightened her dread. Could it truly be Jace and Ellie? She dreaded to think so.

Kai caught the stress lines around her eyes, the occasional tremor in her hands as she carried supplies. Once, he approached as she rummaged for a ledger in the storage room, asking softly, "Is there anything you want to talk about? I'm here."

Her throat tightened. For a moment, she considered telling him about Jace's old love turned betrayal—how deep that cut ran. But the old caution flared. She gave a stiff shrug, replying, "I'm fine. Just exhausted. Let's focus on watchers' schedules, okay?" She turned away, forcibly ending the conversation.

He sighed but didn't press further, aware that pushing might drive her deeper into guardedness. Yet the worry in his gaze confirmed he knew she was carrying more than just leadership burdens.

As dusk fell, the orchard stood eerily quiet, a half-moon glinting on snowy branches. Watchers circled the fence with heightened vigilance, scanning for any sign of undead or unknown infiltrators. Fiona tended to the newcomers in the infirmary, gleaning more detail about the rumored "ruthless band," though they offered few specifics beyond references to a pair of cunning leaders. Mark tried to keep morale steady, reminding folks that they'd repelled threats before.

Leila retired to a lonely corridor after verifying the day's ration allocations. She paused by a boarded window, gazing at the swirling flakes outside. In her mind's eye, Jace's face merged with Ellie's mocking grin, the memory of her final trust in them repaid with cold betrayal. Her chest squeezed. If they truly survived… She shuddered to think what vengeance they might seek. And though she suspected Kai sensed her fear, her pride and scars locked her jaw shut.