PART 1
Thursday, September 9th.
Day 16 of the Apocalypse.
Jerome arrives at the first farm with ten militiamen.
Three large, heavy pickup trucks carry armed men and women.
As he steps out, Jerome scans the area.
“What’s going on?” He notices people who didn’t live here before.
“Hello, I’m—” A seemingly friendly woman steps forward to speak.
“Quiet!” Jerome cuts her off firmly.
“Where is the Keller family?
I don’t see any of them here.” As he speaks, weapons are raised—rifles and shotguns—and the group at the farm hesitates.
“There’s no need for this; the farm was empty when we arrived,” the woman says.
“Until yesterday, a family of seven lived here without issues, and now, overnight, it’s abandoned?
You have three seconds; if you don’t answer, we’re going to shoot.” Jerome’s words take them by surprise, yet they stand their ground.
Clearly, these people had done something.
“Sir, there’s no need for this.
There’s surely been a misunderstanding,” the woman smiles.
“One!” Jerome roars, already aiming his rifle.
“Sir!
There’s no need for this!” the woman shouts.
“Two!” Jerome yells; weapons are cocked—many hands are trembling, but their resolve is firm.
“Fuck it…” someone mutters in the background—a sound many hear—and the moment someone screams…
“GUN!” That was the trigger.
Pow!
Pow!
Pow!
Bullets began to rain down on the group ahead; they screamed and scattered in all directions, drawing their own weapons and firing back.
Jerome and the others used the vehicles for cover.
Bullets flew both ways, and people began to fall.
“This is Jerome!” he roars into the radio.
“We’re under attack at the Keller farm.
We need backup—urgent!” – He spoke over the open radio channel so the town and nearby farms could hear.
The battle only grew worse, with casualties mounting on both sides.
Some of the opposing force fled into the house, others to the barn, and some into the cornfield.
“Jerome, those bastards are spreading out—they might flank us!” a woman shouted, snarling through the pain of a bullet lodged in her arm.
“I know!” Jerome roared, his eyes scanning the area as he spotted strange movement nearby.
He took aim, and the moment a figure emerged from the cornfield, he fired.
A woman went down.
Jerome snarled and shouted, “Get in the vehicles, now!
We’re hitting the road—everyone to the damn road!”
They quickly drove and fired as they retreated.
Upon reaching the road, Jerome’s attention shifted to the hill just ahead.
“We’re heading for the hill—taking the high ground!”
Following his orders, he quickly drove through the brush with the other vehicles close behind; they piled out, running and firing from atop the vehicles, then scrambled up to use the rocks as a barricade.
Jerome snarled, adrenaline surging, and quickly grabbed a medical kit from the vehicle to tend to the wounded.
Gunfire continued to exchange between the two sides.
“What the hell did those sons of bitches do to the Kellers?
I’ve never seen these people around here—they must be the refugees from Atlanta that Ethan mentioned.” An older man snarled with pure hatred, though his voice trembled.
Of the eleven militiamen—Jerome included—only seven remained; that meant four had fallen back at the farm.
But they had taken down twice as many of the enemy—only there were still so many of them.
“Got one!” a woman said with a cruel laugh.
“More vehicles coming in,” someone said.
Jerome looked up and grabbed a radio.
“Come in!
The Keller farm has been overrun by a group of intruders.
At least thirty of them—don’t rush in; they’re spread out everywhere.
We’re on the hill facing the farm entrance,” Jerome says hurriedly.
As he speaks, the approaching vehicles turn toward their position; the intruders spot the vehicles in the brush and, naturally, see the gunfire.
They take a different route, driving up the hill to reach them.
“Holy shit, what’s going on?” a yellow-toothed farmer asks, keeping his head down.
“Do you know anything about the Kellers?” Jerome asks.
“No idea,” the farmer nods.
“They radioed for help, and then nothing.”
“So these people have them.
They’ve probably killed them by now…” Jerome growls.
“Sons of bitches!” the farmer curses loudly.
Jerome watches the scene and notices something.
“Hold your fire—now!”
Everyone looks at him.
“The dead are swarming in,” Jerome points out.
“We need to shoot less—keep forcing the other side to burn through their ammo and, of course, draw in as many of the dead as possible.”
“But what if the Kellers are still alive?” a woman asks.
Jerome frowns.
“I don’t know…
I’m not Ethan.
We have to wait for him to get here.”
At the mention of Ethan’s name, everyone feels a sense of relief.
“We just need to hold out; he’ll know what to do.”
…
Just as Jerome had predicted, the gunshots drew in a horde of the dead.
Although they had largely cleared the streets and the surrounding area, the forest remained an underexplored zone; in the wake of the fall of Atlanta, the woods had become teeming with both the dead and the living.
Dozens of the undead swarmed the Kellers’ farm, crashing against the fences; while most simply tumbled over, a rare few managed to actually climb up and vault to the other side.
Those caught in the cornfield found themselves disoriented and unaware of the unfolding chaos; the noise they made drew attention, and soon their tragic screams echoed through the air.
The barn became a target for the horde, and the main house was already being surrounded.
However, those who had fled inside managed to barricade the main entrances; the windows were too high for the zombies to climb—unless they could reach up and grab the sills, a feat beyond their capabilities.
It was at that moment that the rustling of undergrowth was heard from behind.
Alarmed, the group raised their weapons.
“What is going on here?” Ethan asked coldly, gripping his signature blood-stained axe; his presence was so commanding that many instinctively lowered their weapons.
PART 2
After listening, Ethan observes the situation from his kneeling position and reflects.
‘Jerome did well positioning the vehicles and taking the high ground; there are a lot of enemies.
Using the dead as weapons—smart move.’
“Cease fire.
I’m going down there to see if I can find the Kellers; their fate will determine what happens to these people,” Ethan says coldly.
He slides down the slope and leaps, crouching as he hits the ground before rushing forward.
He reaches the street in seconds, ignoring the zombies trying to grab him.
Using [Radar Sense], he knows exactly where the survivors are hiding.
He moves out of his team’s line of sight to investigate the house more closely, but he freezes when he reaches the back of the property.
He finds seven bodies lined up: four adults, two teenagers, and one child.
Ethan stands motionless, staring at the scene.
The seven had been laid out and executed.
Judging by their positions, the youngest were killed first, forcing the parents to watch their children die one by one.
He slowly picks up his radio and speaks: “The Kellers have been executed.
I don’t want any of those bastards left alive.
I want them all dead.”
Ethan doesn’t wait for a reply.
He springs into action, moving away from the center and expanding his [Radar Sense] to hunt down those who fled and are now in hiding.
He finds the first person—a trembling woman.
She screams when she sees Ethan wielding an axe, and he splits her skull open without hesitation.
His attention is drawn to a sound coming from the east.
He spots a man hiding in the cornfield; Ethan takes aim and pulls the trigger almost instantly.
…
Ethan’s words echo across the hill.
“Did I hear that right?
Did he say executed?”
“Yeah…” Jerome nods.
“God…
there were children, for crying out loud!” a farmer shouts, and silence follows.
Jerome stands up and draws his rifle.
“You heard him.” At his words, the others rise.
“None of them should live.
They cruelly killed our people and would do the same to us.
Not a single one of them gets to live,” Jerome says coldly, and the others agree.
They soon descend the hill.
…
The group advances in unison, a solid front, firing and obliterating any zombies in their path.
They use vehicles as shields in case they come under fire.
In the distance, they see a bloodied Ethan approaching; he calmly points his axe toward the barn.
They understand and focus their attention there.
The zombies fall.
“Come out!
I know you’re in there—come out!” Jerome roars.
“You bastards are surrounded!”
Ethan walks past them and says, “There are five people in there.
I want as many of them alive as possible—do whatever it takes, but I want them captured.”
Jerome nods.
Ethan heads toward another cornfield; they realize he is hunting.
All the zombies are killed.
“I’m willing to surrender, but what guarantee do we have that you won’t kill us?” someone shouts from the house.
“The guarantee is that we’re still willing to hear what you sons of bitches have to say.
Otherwise, we’ve got over thirty people here with rifles and shotguns; we know what you did, and we wouldn’t hesitate to shoot to kill every last one of you.”
Silence lingers.
“You’ll be arrested and put on trial.
I’m Jerome Manson, 43, an Atlanta police officer.
I guarantee you a fair trial and interrogation!”
As he speaks, Jerome holds up his badge.
It holds no value anymore, yet—being only the 16th day of the apocalypse—the weight of the old world still lingers.
Many begin to agree to the terms; those in the barn, being the most exposed, are the first to surrender.
Then, those inside the house follow suit.
In total, there are thirteen survivors.
They are subdued and forced to their knees.
Ethan appears, blood-spattered and wearing a cold expression; he recognizes a few faces, knowing them to be refugees he had once saved.
Thanks to his eidetic memory, this detail stands out to him.
He extends his [Radar Sense], confirming no one else is in hiding, and looks at the thirteen people.
“She’s the leader,” Jerome says, pointing to the woman who had spoken to him earlier.
Ethan steps forward, studying her and the others.
“My name is—”
“Gag them; I don’t care what they have to say.
They’re to be taken away and put on trial,” Ethan says.
“Wait!
You promised!” she shouts quickly, joined by the others.
“You executed a family in cold blood—forced the parents to watch as you killed their children first, before killing them too.
I won’t waste valuable resources on scum like you.
You’ll serve as an example and a lesson, helping my community understand the kind of monsters that live out here,” Ethan says coldly, and his people obey.
PART 3
They return to town and head to the school gymnasium—a spacious area with bleachers large enough to accommodate everyone.
Naturally, many people were left out—especially the younger ones.
Thirteen people are forced to their knees and lined up.
Ethan watches the doors close, signaling that everyone who needs to be there has arrived.
“Hello, everyone.
I wish this were a speech about better days, but it isn’t,” Ethan says, his tone heavy.
“A few days ago, Atlanta was bombed, and thousands of refugees scattered everywhere.
I was there; I spent two days helping as many people as I could—and here are some of those very people.” Ethan gestures toward them, surprising Jerome and the others.
I was there, guiding as many people as possible off the road to regroup, all while killing as many of the undead as I could.
I helped in the surrounding woods and did so much more.”
“And today, the very people I saved—instead of repaying a stranger’s kindness with gratitude, they repaid it with cruelty.
The Keller family farm was seized by these people.
The Kellers—valuable members of this community.
Seven family members—including a twelve-year-old child and two teenagers, aged fourteen and seventeen—were cruelly executed by these people.”
Murmurs erupt—shock, followed quickly by anger.
“Silence!” Ethan commands firmly.
“I saved these people hoping they wouldn’t turn into monsters—hoping they would band together to survive.
I never expected them to kill innocent people—to kill our people.”
“But this just reinforces what I said earlier.
The dead aren’t the only monsters out there—perhaps not even the most dangerous ones.
They’re dead, rotting; in ten or fifteen years, they’ll likely dwindle away; in twenty or thirty, they’ll probably be all but wiped out.
But people like them…
Hell has rained down on us for only sixteen days, and these people are already killing sadistically—wiping out a family with a twelve-year-old child.”
“So today, they were brought here to be executed,” Ethan says coldly, and everyone is taken aback.
“Kill them!” a man in the crowd shouts.
“Those sons of bitches deserve to die!”
“That’s right!
Kill the bastards!”
“The Kellers didn’t deserve that, you monsters!”
The crowd’s hatred flares up.
The thirteen kneeling figures shudder and weep; some press their foreheads to the ground, others try to scream through their gags, and one even wets himself.
“Please!
NO!” someone in the crowd—a woman—screams hysterically.
“That’s my brother!”
Many turn to look; they see a woman in her thirties running toward one of the men, only to be stopped.
“Gabriel, it’s me!
He’s my brother!
What they’re saying can’t be true—he’s a good man!”
Ethan watches and slowly approaches.
“Him?” he asks, and the woman nods.
“Please, Ethan, there must be some mistake.
Gabriel couldn’t possibly do something like that,” she says.
“Bring her here.” Ethan beckons with his fingers; the woman is pulled forward and forced to her knees in front of her brother.
Ethan then removes the man’s gag; the man sobs, and Ethan speaks.
“Look your sister in the eye and say you didn’t contribute to the cold, sadistic execution of a family of seven.
Say you didn’t pull the trigger, or stand by watching while others did it.
Say all that while looking your sister in the eye.”
“Lisa…” Gabriel looked at his sister with hopeful eyes.
“Come on, Gabriel, say it.”
Staring into his sister’s hopeful eyes—someone he loved—memories of their youth flooded back: he had always been the big brother, the one who protected his little sister from their abusive father, the one she looked up to.
Then he thought about what had happened earlier that day—how he had done nothing but watch it unfold.
He hadn’t had the courage.
“No!
Look me in the eye and say it!” Lisa screamed, but Gabriel couldn’t do it.
“Gabriel!
Brother, please… say you didn’t do it…”
Gabriel stared at his sister, pain etched on his face.
“I couldn’t do anything…”
Lisa recoiled, unable to recognize the man standing before her.
She refused to accept it; she wept, and Gabriel could only watch.
He bowed his head to the ground, weeping and begging for forgiveness.
Ethan drew a pistol and cocked it.
“I brought you here instead of just killing you at the farm because I want you to see what the world is becoming.
I want you to see that people like this are everywhere—that your own family members, just like Lisandra’s brother, can turn into unrecognizable strangers, or simply… reveal who they truly are when there are no laws or rules left and they hold even the slightest bit of power.”
Pow!
A woman falls; many scream and jump in shock, while the others, kneeling, fall into a state of despair.
“Many more like them will show up.
Larger, organized, and armed groups that will wage war against us, wanting to take what we’re building.
They’ll come—not today or tomorrow, but they’ll come.”
Pow!
“So look and remember.
The world isn’t peaceful anymore; strangers could be anything now—psychopaths, rapists, pedophiles, and worse.”
Pow!
“So see this and always remember.
Remember what these people did because they thought they’d found a safe, temporary haven.
How they slaughtered a family for just a few days’ worth of supplies.”
Pow!
“And consider that if it were you in their place, it wouldn’t be any different.
They’d kill you and take everything you have.
They’d make you watch your children die before putting a bullet in your heads.”
Pow!
Pow!
Pow!
…
Lisandra was already gone; Gabriel was the last to die.
The bodies were left there to bleed out, so everyone could see that this is real.
So they would get used to death, for it would be a constant part of their lives.
Many will be traumatized, but others will grow up.
These people are Ethan’s target, for after today, something has changed.
[Congratulations on officially becoming the leader of a community, having secured the loyalty, respect, and goodwill of at least 100 people beyond a specific milestone.]
[+1 Ally Slot]
[You have gained access to base management functions.]
[Your “Map” has been updated!]
Ethan narrows his eyes; he’ll take a look at that later.
Right now, he needs to attend to survivors across the city and start putting all these people to work.