CHAPTER 66: SILENT ESCAPE

Jasmine and Punch sat tightly, bound against the thick trunk of an ancient tree.

The coarse ropes biting into their wrists, the damp bark pressed cold against their backs, distant shuffle of undead feet echoeing through the gloom and breaths syncing in frustration. The stench of decay and damp earth hung in the air, thick enough to choke on.

The forest was dead quiet except for the guttural growls of the undead pacing around them. (The Zombies)

Faint light from the dying sun filtered through the leaves, staining the scene in hues of deep amber and blood red.

For a long moment, neither said a word. The only sound was the zombie’s slow, uneven footsteps— dragging feet, broken bones, and occasional snarls. The creatures circled them lazily, like guards waiting for orders that would never come.

Then Jasmine finally broke the silence. Her voice came low but sharp, slicing through the air.

"Okay... how the fuck do we get out of here?"

Punch let out a tired exhale. "I don’t know, don’t ask me. You’re the one with the power of ideas and creativity, right?"

Jasmine rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. "Whatever," she muttered under her breath.

A few seconds passed. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes scanning the forest, the ropes, the ground. Her mind was already ticking, piecing possibilities together. "Look," she said after a moment, "I don’t care about our differences right now, but we need to get the fuck outta here before that sun disappears completely."

Punch didn’t reply. His jaw clenched. He hated being helpless— tied up like prey while rotting corpses walked around him like prison guards. He wanted to fight, but even his frustration couldn’t melt the ropes around them.

Jasmine tried wriggling her wrists, testing the tightness of the knots. No luck. Her breathing quickened...not out of fear, but impatience. She hated being restrained and hated losing control.

Then something caught her eye. A faint gleam of light just above the line of sight— a shimmer of gold among the branches. Her gaze narrowed. There, swaying gently in the breeze, hanging from a twisted branch like an ornament from hell...

The relic.

Jasmine’s heartbeat skipped. Her eyes widened for a split second before she masked it. She turned her head slightly toward Punch and whispered, "Hey... don’t look too fast, but I think I just found the relic."

Punch froze. "What?"

"Right above the third tree from the left... hanging from that branch," she whispered again, her voice low and steady. "Keep your eyes calm. The zombies are watching."

Punch tilted his head just enough to see it, and his breath caught. There it was— a jagged crystal pulsating faintly with light, suspended by vines. "No way..." he murmured.

Jasmine’s lips tightened. "Yes Way..."

For the first time, hope felt close— close enough to taste.

But they were still bound, and the zombies still shuffled around them, hollow eyes glinting with hunger.

Jasmine’s mind ran through possibilities: spells, distractions, brute force. Nothing seemed good enough. Then she turned her head toward Punch, voice barely above a whisper.

"You can... transform, right?"

Punch blinked. "Uh, yeah? Why?"

"Can you turn a finger... maybe just a finger... into a knife or something sharp enough to cut us loose?"

Punch’s eyes went wide. "Wait...what? You mean, like... just one part of me?"

"Yes," Jasmine hissed. "Just one part. We don’t need the Hulk, we just need sharp."

For a moment, Punch just stared into nothing. The realization hit him like a slap— ’How the hell hadn’t he thought of that yet?’ His powers allowed him to transform his entire body into almost anything... and yet, it never once crossed his mind to change just one piece of himself.

He let out a small, embarrassed laugh. "I... I never tried that before."

Jasmine snapped, her tone dry and unimpressed. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

He raised his hands slightly or tried to. "Hey, give me a break! Usually, when I transform, it’s the whole package, not just... a finger or leg or head or..."

"Just shut up and try, Punch." Jasmine hissed. Already getting pissed off.

He glanced sideways. "You’re really bossy, you know that?"

"Do you want to die here or not?"

Punch sighed. "Fine, fine..." Then paused for a second "...By the way we won’t ’die’ here it’s a hallucination magic, remember?"

"Whatever just do it" Jasmine said

They both froze as one of the zombies shuffled closer, sniffing the air around them, closer to their ears.

"GREaaaHHH"

Jasmine held her breath, feeling its rotten fingers graze her boot before it turned and continued pacing away.

When it was at a distance again, Punch whispered, "Alright, I take that back...maybe they’re more real than I thought... Let’s do this."

********************

He focused hard. His middle finger tingled— a weird, electric sensation crawling from his wrist to the tip. The air around it shimmered faintly. His skin darkened, hardening like metal, veins glowing faintly as the transformation took hold. Then— click, the finger morphed into a small, curved blade, smooth and sharp, glinting in the dying light.

He stared at it for a second, half in awe. "Holy shit... it worked."

Jasmine gave a short, sarcastic whisper. "Congratulations. Now cut before one of them gets curious."

Punch smirked despite himself. "Bossy and ungrateful."

"Punch!"

"Alright, alright!"

He twisted his wrist carefully, positioning the blade edge against the rope that bound their wrists together. He had to move slow— too much pressure, and the zombies would hear the fibers snap. Too little, and they’d never get out before nightfall.

The blade pressed in. The rope resisted at first, the fibers were thick and stubborn. Punch gritted his teeth and worked the angle, slicing bit by bit. His shoulders ached, his breath shallow. The rhythmic groans of the zombies made every second feel longer than it was.

Finally— SNAP!

The rope gave way.

Jasmine’s hands sprang free. She immediately reached behind her and began untying the knots around Punch’s wrists. Her fingers moved fast, fueled by adrenaline and urgency.

As soon as he was loose, they both pulled away from each other, massaging sore wrists, exchanging a quick, silent look— the kind of look that said we’re not done arguing, but now’s not the time.

Jasmine crouched low, scanning their surroundings. "Okay, the relic’s there, the zombies are everywhere, and we’ve got about..." she glanced at the sinking sun, "...maybe few more hours before total darkness."

Punch flexed his newly freed hands, his blade-finger gleaming faintly before reverting to flesh. "Cool trick," he muttered to himself.

"Stay focused," Jasmine snapped softly.

"I am focused," he whispered back. "Just impressed with my own genius."

Jasmine rolled her eyes but said nothing.

They both watched the zombies. There were at least eight of them, moving slowly but unpredictably, heads twitching, bodies decomposed and stiff.

Jasmine exhaled. "We need a distraction."

Punch tilted his head, grinning slightly. "You mean like a loud, flashy distraction?"

"Punch..."

"Relax..." he whispered teasingly, earning a sharp glare from her. "I got this."

But Jasmine’s focus had already shifted to the relic— its faint glow pulsed faster now, like it was responding to their presence. The air around it shimmered faintly with strange energy.

Jasmine’s pulse quickened. "We need to move now." She scanned the area again "They’re at least eight of them, we take them down and get the fuck outta here..."

Punch nodded, crouching low beside her. "Alright, on three..."

"One..." Jasmine whispered.

They moved silently and swiftly, staying in the shadows as the last rays of light vanished behind the trees.

The relic’s glow grew brighter. The zombies now alerted, turned their heads in unison.

Jasmine froze mid air. Punch clenched his fists. The air went still and calm— the kind of calm before chaos. And then, one zombie snarled...All hell broke loose.