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Chapter Sixty-three

Penulis: Khalila
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-10-26 18:02:05

The night after the exile was not a time of rest, but a protracted, collective daze. The shelter, usually settling into a wary quiet after sundown, was instead a hive of subdued, sorrowful activity. Jake’s funeral was to be held at first light, a decision made both for the practical advantage of cooler temperatures and because no one could bear to let another full day pass without laying their friend to rest. The knowledge of it hung over everyone, a somber deadline that made sleep impossible.

Ethel moved through the hours in a state of emotional suspension. Her body performed the necessary tasks—checking on the dwindling food stores with Ben, speaking in low tones with Moe and Carlos about rotating watch schedules, ensuring the perimeter was doubly secure in the wake of Marcus’s banishment—but her mind was elsewhere. It was trapped in a loop of memory and anticipatory grief. She wasn’t ready for this. The finality of it, the physical act of lowering a box containing all that remained
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  • Project Dakota: Rising of the dead   Epilogue

    The dust motes were her only companions, the tiny, dancing sprites of forgotten air. They swirled in the single, slender finger of sunlight that pierced the gloom of her room, a room that was not a room at all but a tomb of rough-hewn stone and despair. It was cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and made a home there, a permanent chill that no amount of huddling or shivering could ever dislodge. The walls pressed in, not with a visible motion, but with a heavy, constant weight, making her feel impossibly small, a forgotten trinket on a dusty shelf. In this oppressive silence, the only thing that felt real, that felt like hers, was that crack in the wall.It was more a flaw in the ancient masonry than a window, a long, jagged line that ran diagonally across the stone, wide enough in one place to press her eye against, wide enough to let in that precious, life-giving beam of light. Now, standing on her toes, her bare feet cold against the gritty floor, she leaned into the

  • Project Dakota: Rising of the dead   Chapter Sixty-three

    The night after the exile was not a time of rest, but a protracted, collective daze. The shelter, usually settling into a wary quiet after sundown, was instead a hive of subdued, sorrowful activity. Jake’s funeral was to be held at first light, a decision made both for the practical advantage of cooler temperatures and because no one could bear to let another full day pass without laying their friend to rest. The knowledge of it hung over everyone, a somber deadline that made sleep impossible.Ethel moved through the hours in a state of emotional suspension. Her body performed the necessary tasks—checking on the dwindling food stores with Ben, speaking in low tones with Moe and Carlos about rotating watch schedules, ensuring the perimeter was doubly secure in the wake of Marcus’s banishment—but her mind was elsewhere. It was trapped in a loop of memory and anticipatory grief. She wasn’t ready for this. The finality of it, the physical act of lowering a box containing all that remained

  • Project Dakota: Rising of the dead   Chapter Sixty-two

    The grim finality of the vote settled over the shelter like a shroud of lead. The words, "The sentence is exile," echoed in the cavernous silence of the hall, a verdict that felt to many not like justice, but like a precarious, half-measure, a dangerous gamble with their collective future. A low, restless murmur rippled through the assembled crowd, a current of disbelief and simmering fury. Exile. It meant he would still be breathing. It meant he was out there, somewhere in the vast, unforgiving ruins, a predator set loose, his rage and psychosis now amplified by a death sentence narrowly avoided. The fear was palpable, a sour taste in the air. People were pissed, their faces etched with a fresh layer of terror. They had wanted closure, a final, brutal line drawn under the horror. Instead, they had been given a ghost, a perpetual boogeyman who now had a very real, very personal grudge against every single soul within their walls.Ethel stood amidst the discontent, her own disappointme

  • Project Dakota: Rising of the dead   Chapter Sixty-one

    The first conscious sensation for Ethel was not the pale, grimy light filtering through the dust-caked window of her small room, but a profound, cellular ache, as if every particle of her being had been pulverized into a fine, leaden powder during the night. She did not open her eyes immediately, clinging instead to the fragile blankness of the semi-waking state, a gray, featureless plain where the horror had not yet fully coalesced. But memory, cruel and inexorable, flooded the void. It did not come as a single image, but as a wave, a physical pressure on her chest that made breathing a conscious, laborious act.It was the memory of sound that broke her first: the raw, jagged sound of another human soul tearing itself apart. Elise’s breakdown. Ethel had told her. She had practiced the words in the silent theater of her mind, sanding down their sharp, lethal edges, trying to coat them in a veneer of manageable tragedy. Jake is gone. There was an accident. It was quick. Lies, all of th

  • Project Dakota: Rising of the dead   Chapter Sixty

    The wedding was amazing. It was a word Ethel would have scoffed at using just a day before, but it was the only one that fit. In the soft, golden glow of the salvaged fairy lights, with the stars beginning to prick the velvet blanket of the night sky above their fortified walls, the grim reality of their existence had been temporarily suspended. The ceremony itself had been simple, heartfelt, and profoundly moving. Patrick, the unassuming gardener, had spoken the ancient words with a dignity and conviction that belied his usual quiet demeanor. Sarah had wept happy tears. Ben’s hands had trembled as he slid a ring fashioned from a twisted piece of copper wire onto his bride’s finger. The entire shelter had watched, united in a rare, uncomplicated moment of joy.Now, the reception was in full, raucous swing. The makeshift dance floor—a cleared space in the center of the courtyard—was a whirl of moving bodies. Elise, of course, was at the heart of it, her guitar set aside now as she danc

  • Project Dakota: Rising of the dead   Chapter Fifty-nine

    The clean, post-shower feeling was a fragile bubble of normalcy, and Ethel knew it was about to be popped by the complex social mechanics of introducing a feral, unpredictable element into their carefully balanced ecosystem. She found Levi where she’d left him, looking slightly less like a startled animal but still radiating the tense energy of someone waiting for the other shoe to drop. His damp, green-streaked hair was a stark declaration of individuality in a world that often punished it.“Come on,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Time to meet the rest of the family.”He followed her with a reluctant shuffle, his eyes taking in every detail of the common room as if mapping escape routes. She led him towards the far corner, near the large, south-facing windows that flooded the space with afternoon light. This was where the softer side of Birkin Shelter often congregated. Elise was there, carefully polishing the frets of her acoustic guitar with a soft cloth. Lena,

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