The sun was setting over the dusty city of Hargeisa, casting long shadows over the abandoned buildings and cars. Ayaan, Fatima, and Hassan were making their way to the outskirts of the city, hoping to find a safe place to spend the night. They had been on the run for weeks, ever since the zombie outbreak had turned their world upside down.
Ayaan was a resourceful engineer who had managed to salvage some useful tools and gadgets from the wreckage. He had a backpack full of wires, batteries, flashlights, and a radio that he hoped to fix someday. He also had a machete that he used to defend himself from the undead.
Fatima was a wise elder who had seen many hardships in her life. She had survived famine, war, and disease, and she was not afraid of death. She had a calm and soothing presence that helped the others cope with their situation. She also had a Quran that she read every day, seeking guidance and comfort from Allah.
Hassan was a former soldier who had fought in the civil war. He had a rifle and a pistol that he used with deadly accuracy. He was a brave and loyal leader who protected his companions from any danger. He also had a scar on his face that he got from a zombie bite, but he hid it under a bandana.
The three of them had met by chance when they were fleeing from a horde of zombies that had overrun their camp. They decided to stick together, hoping to find other survivors or a safe haven. They had heard rumors of a military base in the north, where the zombies could not reach. They were heading there, but they knew it was a long and perilous journey.
As they approached the edge of the city, they saw a large cemetery with rows of graves and tombstones. They decided to check it out, hoping to find some supplies or weapons. They entered the cemetery cautiously, scanning the area for any signs of movement.
They walked among the graves, reading the names and dates of the deceased. Some of them were old and faded, while others were fresh and new. They wondered how many of them had risen from their graves and joined the ranks of the undead.
They came across a burial that looked different from the others. It was a large mound of earth with a wooden cross on top. On the cross, there was a sign that read:
"Here lies Abdi, our beloved son and brother. He died fighting for our freedom. May he rest in peace."
They felt a pang of sadness as they read the sign. They wondered who Abdi was, and what he had fought for. They wondered if he had any family or friends left alive.
They decided to pay their respects to Abdi, and say a prayer for his soul. They knelt down in front of the grave, and bowed their heads.
Suddenly, they heard a loud thud from underneath the mound. They looked up in horror, as they saw the earth start to shake and crack. A hand burst out of the ground, followed by an arm, and then a head.
It was Abdi.
He was not dead.
He was one of them.
He opened his eyes, which were bloodshot and hungry. He opened his mouth, which was full of rotten teeth and flesh. He let out a guttural roar, which echoed through the cemetery.
He was not resting in peace.
He was rising in rage.
