“Damn it.
I’ll kill those two brats eventually…” Inside the lakeside house, Kenneth leaned back on the sofa, nursing the throbbing pain at the back of his head.
He muttered curses at Brian and Sarah, who were long gone by now.
His wife, Kathy, sat beside him in silence, tending to his wound.
She listened to his complaints without comment.
When Kenneth had limped back to camp, claiming the two kids had ambushed him from behind and stolen his pistol, everyone knew the truth.
Everyone except the children, that is.
They all knew why he’d really gone with them.
But when Kathy heard that Brian and Sarah had taken the gun, a bitter resentment took root in her chest.
Resentment at her husband’s incompetence.
Resentment at those two children for taking the only thing that could keep her daughter safe.
In this chaos, a gun meant protection.
And now it was gone.
“Vehicle approaching!
Heads up!” Taylor’s shout from outside shattered the silence.
Kathy and Kenneth exchanged a look.
They grabbed whatever weapons they could find and rushed out the door.
Outside, Taylor stood at the fence, eyes fixed on the approaching vehicle.
His hand trembled slightly on his pistol.
He glanced back at his wife, who was shielding the children, and felt a pang of helplessness.
Kenneth’s gun was gone.
Taylor was the only one left with a firearm.
If this group meant trouble, one pistol wouldn’t be enough to protect everyone.
“What’s happening?
Who’s coming?” Kenneth and Kathy burst through the door, weapons raised.
They ran to the fence and squinted at the approaching vehicle.
Their faces fell.
Then they saw it clearly.
A military truck.
“It’s the army!
They’re here to save us!” Kenneth was the first to recognize it.
He waved his arms wildly, shouting with excitement.
Behind him, the others felt a wave of relief wash over them.
Taylor turned and embraced his weeping wife.
Kathy broke into a smile.
Even Barton and Angela, caught up in the adults’ emotions, started cheering.
The truck rolled to a stop outside the fence.
A dozen fully armed soldiers jumped down from the back.
The passenger door opened, and a man in tactical gear stepped out.
He walked up to the group, his expression stern.
“We’re with the National Disaster Response Unit.
Are there any other survivors in the area?” Kenneth stepped forward eagerly.
“No, sir.
Just us here.
Are you taking us somewhere safe?” The commander glanced at Kenneth’s obsequious face, a flicker of disgust passing through his eyes.
Then something else crossed his expression—a cold, knowing smirk.
“Don’t worry.
Follow orders, and we’ll take you somewhere very safe.” He signaled to the soldiers behind him.
“Standard procedure.
We’ll conduct a search and confiscate any weapons.
Then we’ll escort you to the processing center.” The survivors bristled slightly at the demand, but their desperation to leave overrode their unease.
They submitted to the search.
A soldier approached the commander.
“Sir, they only have one pistol.
No other weapons.” The commander nodded.
But before he could speak, Kenneth stepped forward again, clasping his hands together.
“Sir, can we get moving now?” The commander’s eyes narrowed.
Annoyance flashed across his face.
Then a cold smile.
“Moving?
Sure.
Let’s get you moving.” He drew his sidearm and aimed it at Kenneth’s head.
Kenneth’s eyes went wide with confusion, then terror.
The commander pulled the trigger.
BANG.
The bullet tore through Kenneth’s skull, leaving a gaping hole.
His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Silence.
Everyone stood frozen, staring in disbelief at the commander’s smoking gun.
The hope that had filled their hearts moments ago had been ripped away, replaced by primal terror.
“You bastard!
What are you doing?!” Kathy was the first to find her voice.
She screamed at the commander, her husband’s body lying at her feet.
The commander didn’t even look at her.
He turned and walked back toward the truck.
“Finish them.” The soldiers raised their rifles.
The survivors begged, pleaded, cried out for mercy.
It didn’t matter.
The rifles fired, cutting down everyone in sight.
Women.
Children.
It made no difference.
In seconds, the living, breathing people who’d been huddled at the fence were nothing more than corpses.
Blood pooled beneath their bodies, the stench of death hanging heavy in the air.
After the shooting stopped, a soldier stepped forward to confirm everyone was dead.
Then they climbed back into the truck.
The vehicle rumbled to life, turned around, and disappeared over the horizon.
Brian dragged the last infected corpse out of the factory and dropped it onto the pile.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, hands on his hips, and let out a long breath.
Dusk was settling in.
Night would fall soon.
He scanned the area one last time, then turned and walked back inside.
In the factory office, the desk had been moved aside, revealing the shallow hidden compartment in the floor.
Sarah was crouched beside it, pulling out its contents one by one.
Brian looked over the haul.
Food, pistols, ammunition, even a first-aid kit.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Ford really left a lot behind.
What was his deal with Morris, anyway?” “Who cares!” Sarah spread her arms wide over the pile of supplies, grinning from ear to ear.
“It’s all ours now!” Brian smiled at her excitement.
“I’ll leave you to sort this out.
I’m going to check the car.” He walked to the northwest corner of the factory.
The vehicle was well-hidden, parked flush against the wall.
One sharp turn and it could be driven straight out the front.
Its position was further obscured by stacked debris and poor lighting.
And the wheel lock was still in place.
Brian crouched, entered the code, and removed the lock.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and took a moment to get reacquainted.
He hadn’t driven in a while.
Tomorrow would be a long road, so he needed to be familiar with the controls.
He started the engine.
Full tank.
Everything else seemed in order.
He shifted gears, turned the wheel, and drove the car out of the factory.
He circled through the scrap yard a few times, testing the handling.
Satisfied, he drove back in and parked it near the entrance.
Ready to go at first light.
Then he helped Sarah pack the supplies into cardboard boxes and loaded them into the truck bed.
They worked until late.
When everything was done, Brian considered sleeping in the break room, but he didn’t want to be caught off guard.
Instead, he and Sarah dragged a mattress down to the truck and set up camp beside it.
Mid-September.
The nights were growing colder.
Even inside the factory, cold drafts seeped through the gaps in the walls.
Brian felt Sarah shiver beside him.
He sat up and draped the blanket entirely over her.
Then he lay back down.
The moment his head hit the mattress, Sarah stirred.
She rolled over, pulled his arm straight, and rested her head on it.
Then she curled into him, pulling the blanket up to cover both of them.
Brian went rigid.
He’d never been this close to a girl before.
He had no idea what to do.
But Sarah’s breathing soon steadied.
She was asleep.
Gradually, Brian relaxed.
Exhaustion pulled him under, and the two of them drifted off, tangled together in the warmth of the blanket.