Herman snatched the letter from Brian’s hand, his eyes scanning the page.
Dad: I don’t know if you’ll ever see this.
Everything’s falling apart out here.
Gunshots and explosions nonstop.
Every news channel is reporting riots caused by infected patients.
I’m terrified.
Thank God I don’t live in the city.
I’ve decided to take Angelina to Dallas to find her father.
If you find this letter, please come find me as soon as you can.
I hope to see you again.
Your daughter, June.
A long breath escaped Herman’s lungs.
His daughter was alive.
She had a destination.
He tucked the letter into his backpack and turned to the two children.
“Austin has already fallen.
The infected from the bridge are moving this way as I speak.
This place won’t be safe for long.
I’m heading to Dallas.
Do you want to come with me?” Brian fell silent.
He glanced at Sarah, who was also quiet.
Then he shook his head.
“I’m sorry.
Sarah’s father and uncle are still out there.
We need to find them.” Herman sighed.
He’d expected as much.
Without another word, he pulled a pen from his pocket, scribbled an address on a scrap of paper, and pressed it into Brian’s hand.
“This is where I’ll be.
If…
if you don’t find them, you can come looking for me.” He gave Sarah’s head one last gentle pat, said his goodbyes, and headed downstairs.
The sound of his footsteps faded, and then he was gone.
Thump…
thump…
thump…
Brian stared at the paper in his hand, listening to the retreating footsteps.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
After Herman left, Brian began planning the day.
Sarah’s leg needed rest; she couldn’t walk far.
That meant he couldn’t range too far from the house.
He opened two cans of food for breakfast and thought.
If he couldn’t go out and find Joel and Tommy, maybe he could make them find him.
Outside, the woods behind the house were thick with dry branches.
He gathered an armful, piled them in the yard, and lit them with a lighter.
Flames licked at the wood.
Thick black smoke rose into the sky, visible for miles.
It was a beacon.
A signal.
Brian nodded at his work.
Then he got busy.
He searched the house, gathering every usable supply and stacking them on the living room table.
He carried Sarah downstairs, gave her paper and a pen, and asked her to catalog everything.
Then he headed to the shed.
When he’d found the kerosene lamp last night, he’d also spotted a toolbox and stacked planks of wood.
Herman had warned that infected from the bridge were moving this way.
He didn’t know when Joel and Tommy might arrive.
Better to board up the windows and reinforce the house now.
Meanwhile, at the highway bridge.
The battle last night had been brutal.
Hundreds of corpses littered the bridge, their blood staining the concrete.
The stench of death hung thick in the air.
The military checkpoint was deserted.
The soldiers had been overwhelmed and had retreated.
From a high ridge nearby, Joel scanned the bridge with his binoculars.
Hundreds of infected were still marching across, heading toward the next town.
He didn’t care.
His eyes swept the surrounding area, searching for any sign of the kids.
He was exhausted.
Frustrated.
Furious.
After shaking the infected last night, he and Tommy had pushed toward the bridge.
But by the time they arrived, gunfire and explosions were already ringing out.
They’d seen the military checkpoint under siege.
They’d also realized that Brian would have seen the danger and taken cover somewhere nearby.
So they’d started searching.
All night.
Circle by circle around the checkpoint.
But the explosions had drawn every infected in the area.
Twice, they’d nearly been spotted.
Once, a stray bullet from the soldiers had whistled past Tommy’s head.
They’d been forced to retreat until the military pulled out.
Now, after nearly twelve hours of searching, they’d found nothing.
Joel lowered the binoculars.
“Where the hell are you kids?” Footsteps behind him.
Tommy emerged from the tree line, dragging an unconscious man over his shoulder.
“What’s that?
Who is he?” “Hold on.” Tommy dropped the man to the ground, pulled out a length of rope, and bound his wrists behind his back.
Then he pulled a badge from the man’s pocket and held it up.
“I found him sneaking out of the checkpoint.
He’s a clerk, probably someone who didn’t evacuate in time.” Tommy glanced at the badge, then back at his brother.
“We’ve been searching all night and found nothing.
What if Brian and Sarah were picked up by these guys?” Joel’s jaw tightened.
It was possible.
It made sense.
He grabbed his canteen, took a long drink, then spat a mouthful of water into the man’s face.
The clerk spluttered awake.
He opened his eyes, saw two strangers looming over him, felt the ropes around his wrists, and panic flooded his face.
“Wha…
who are you?
Why are you doing this?” Joel crouched down, pistol in hand, and locked eyes with the man.
“Last night.
Did you pick up two kids?
A boy and a girl, both about thirteen.
Girl had a wounded leg.
Answer me straight, or this bullet finds a home in your chest.” The man stared at the gun, trembling.
He barely heard the question.
“I…
I don’t know anything.
I’m just a record keeper.
Please, I…” CRUNCH.
Joel didn’t wait for him to finish.
He stood up and drove his boot into the man’s knee.
The clerk screamed.
Joel had hated the military ever since that soldier opened fire on them.
If not for their trigger-happy orders, he wouldn’t be separated from his daughter.
He felt no pity.
He crouched again, pulling out a photo of himself and Sarah.
He shoved it in the man’s face.
“Last chance.
Have you seen this girl?” The clerk was broken.
Tears and snot ran down his face as he gasped through the pain.
“I…
I really haven’t.
All night, I just recorded data.
I don’t know anything.” Then his eyes widened.
“But…
wait.
Before the infected attacked, we did rescue dozens of civilians near the bridge.
We processed them and sent them to the quarantine camp in Houston.
Your kids might be there!” “Bullshit.” Joel grabbed the man by the collar, hauling him up.
“If you were rescuing people, why did your soldiers shoot at us last night?” “What?” The clerk’s confusion was genuine.
“That’s impossible.
Our orders were to rescue uninfected survivors and transport them to quarantine camps.
That’s all.” Joel and Tommy exchanged a look.
Something wasn’t right.
The orders they’d overheard from the soldier’s radio didn’t match what this man was saying.
A terrible realization crept into both their minds.
They’d stumbled into something much bigger than an outbreak.
Someone had been giving the wrong orders.
And they’d walked right into the middle of it.
The clerk clearly understood too.
He squirmed in his bindings, desperate.
“You have to let me go!
This needs to be reported.
If we don’t stop this, more innocent people are going to die!” Joel released him and stood up.
He pulled Tommy aside.
“What do we do with him?” “Let him go.” Tommy’s answer was immediate.
“He’s telling the truth.
And this isn’t our fight.
The only thing that matters is finding Sarah.
Let him deal with whatever conspiracy this is.” Joel nodded.
He walked back to the clerk, pulled out his knife, and cut the ropes.
“I’m not killing you.
Find your own way out.” Then he and Tommy turned and headed toward town.
Houston was over two hundred miles away.
They needed a car.
Ten minutes after they left, somewhere in the woods behind them, a column of black smoke began to rise into the sky.