With the keys in hand, Brian and Sarah wasted no time.
They hurried out of the office, grabbed a random key fob from the metal box, and pressed the unlock button.
Two sharp chirps revealed their target vehicle.
Brian told Sarah to keep watch.
The way the keys had been stored suggested the owner might return at any moment.
They needed to move fast.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key.
Nothing.
He checked the dashboard.
The fuel gauge was pinned at empty.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He tried the other keys.
Every single car in the lot was out of gas.
Someone had drained them all.
But why?
There was a gas station right across the road.
What was the point?
Brian sighed and opened the door.
“Sarah, I’m going to grab some gas from the station.
You—” He stopped mid-sentence.
Sarah had her hands in the air.
Behind her stood a blonde girl, no older than ten, holding a shotgun aimed at her back.
Brian’s hand twitched toward his pistol.
Then a cold voice stopped him cold.
“Son, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He froze.
He’d been careless.
He didn’t know if the voice behind him was bluffing, but the girl’s shotgun was real.
And in America, getting a gun wasn’t hard.
He wasn’t about to bet his life on a gamble.
He raised his hands slowly.
“We’re just passing through.
Please don’t hurt us.” “Back up.
Over there, in the open.
Face me.” He and Sarah exchanged a glance and backed up slowly, hands still high, until they reached an open space in the parking lot.
The man behind him stepped into view.
Mid-thirties, cowboy hat, hunting rifle in hand.
He nodded to the blonde girl.
“Kelly, search them.” The girl, Kelly, slung her shotgun over her shoulder and patted them down.
She emptied their pockets, checked their weapons, and examined their bodies for bite marks.
When she saw the bandages on Brian’s arms, her eyes went wide.
“What happened to your arms?” Brian kept his voice calm.
“Glass cuts.
From the car.” Kelly peeled back the bandage just enough to check, then relaxed.
She gathered their belongings and handed them to her father.
“All clear,” she reported.
“No bites.” The man ruffled his daughter’s hair and tipped his hat.
“Sorry about that, kids.
I know it’s not right, but…
we’ve had a rough few days.
I hope you understand.” He set down their weapons and his own hunting rifle on the hood of a nearby car.
“Name’s Osborne.
This is my daughter, Kelly.
We’re not going to hurt you.
I saw you come off the highway.
Where are you from?” Brian let out a slow breath.
He studied Osborne, looking for any sign of deception, and found none.
“I’m Brian.
This is Sarah.
We escaped from Austin.
We were heading to Dallas, but our car’s shot.” Osborne glanced at the battered vehicle at the roadside, then back at Brian.
“Those bullet holes on your car.
What happened?” Brian hesitated.
He could lie.
But something told him to tell the truth.
“The military showed up outside Austin.
They blocked the highway, ready to purge the whole infection zone.
We broke through before they were fully set up.
Those bullet holes are from their rifles.” Osborne and Kelly exchanged a stunned look.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Brian continued, “but it’s the truth.
We’ve seen it firsthand.
We barely made it out.” He told them everything.
The outbreak.
The military checkpoint.
The screams from the town.
The logbook he’d found.
Every detail.
Osborne listened in silence.
He was a former Army lieutenant.
He’d served his country.
The idea that the military would turn on its own people was almost unthinkable.
But he also knew enough to recognize when a story was too specific to be a lie.
“That logbook.
Where is it?” “Still in the car,” Brian said.
“You can see for yourself.” Before Osborne could respond, Kelly had already sprinted to the car.
A moment later, she came running back, waving a clipboard in the air.
Osborne reached for her arm, half-scolding, half-relieved.
“Next time, wait for my say-so.” Kelly stuck out her tongue and ducked away.
Osborne took the clipboard and read the last line aloud: “Neutralize all infected zones without exception.” His face went pale.
This was real.
He’d seen enough military paperwork to know this wasn’t a forgery.
He folded the logbook and tucked it into his jacket.
Right now, there was nothing he could do.
But he knew someone who could.
An old friend still serving.
He’d find a way to get word to him.
For now, he turned his attention back to the children.
He picked up their weapons and walked to Brian.
In the short time he’d spent with them, Osborne had noticed something.
This boy was sharp.
Protective.
Always positioning himself between danger and the girl.
In a world where trust was a luxury, that kind of loyalty mattered.
Even from a kid.
He handed the weapons back.
“I’m sorry for the rough welcome.
We’ve run into some bad people lately.
Hard to trust anyone these days.” “No hard feelings,” Brian said, holstering his pistol.
“I’d have done the same.” Osborne smiled.
“You mentioned you’re heading to Dallas.
We’re going the same way.
I’ve got an RV over there.
Plenty of room.
What do you say we travel together?” Brian blinked.
You literally just held a gun on me.
And now you want to ride together?
But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
The drive to Dallas was only a few hours, but the roads were unpredictable.
Safety in numbers.
And Osborne seemed genuine.
He glanced at Sarah, who gave a small nod.
“Yeah,” Brian said.
“Alright.
Let’s go.”