As Paris was dragged away, her frantic footsteps fading, Eli and the rest of the group exchanged worried glances, unsure if this would be the last time they'd see her. Her absence left a gaping silence. Eli cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling after her. "I'll come find you, little lady!"
Jake's stomach twisted with a feeling he couldn't shake. A gnawing sadness washed over him. "What's this feeling?" Jake thought, frowning, unfamiliar with the sense of dread creeping over him. The leader of the soldiers, sensing their growing anxiety, barked sharply, "Let's move!" His voice cracked through the air like a whip, dispelling any hope that lingered about Paris's fate.
The soldiers turned the group in the opposite direction from where Paris had been led. The path ahead was dotted with sprawling crops and clusters of people tending the fields. The workers, their faces weathered and gaunt, paused their work to stare at the newcomers. Eyes glazed with exhaustion or something darker—fear, perhaps—followed the group's every movement as they passed. The whole scene looked deceptively ordinary, like a farm untouched by the chaos beyond its borders.
"Do you think we're safe?" Steve whispered, his voice trembling, as he edged closer to Janice.
"I sure hope so, baby," Janice muttered, her eyes scanning the surroundings warily. She wasn't convinced. Something felt wrong here, like a disquieting weight pressing down on her chest.
Travis walked beside his mother, holding her hand in a white-knuckled grip. Martha's breath hitched as she leaned toward him, her whisper barely audible. "Booger, I got a bad feeling about this place."
"Me too, Ma. Me too," Travis responded, his voice taut with concern. His eyes never stopped moving, taking in every detail—every unnatural quiet, every too-still figure in the distance.
The soldiers led the group to a large green tent, a structure that loomed like a canvas behemoth. They entered without a word, and the stale air hit them immediately, thick and suffocating. Inside, a soldier sat at a desk, staring blankly ahead as if he'd been there for years, detached from the living world outside. Steve's gaze darted around the room, his fingers twitching with nerves. The tent might have been secure, but it felt too perfect, too controlled, too artificial.
The soldier at the desk gestured for them to halt. "Stop," he commanded, his voice devoid of warmth. He pointed directly at Janice. "You first."
Eli's face hardened with suspicion. "Why are we separating?"
The leader of the soldiers shot him a cold glance. "You'll see each other soon enough."
Janice swallowed hard; her throat dry as sandpaper. She hesitated for a brief moment, her body tensing before stepping forward. As soon as she passed through the door, it slammed shut behind her with a metallic clunk. Her heart raced. She didn't want to leave her group, but the soldiers offered no choice.
Inside, another soldier waited, his face set in a grim mask. He motioned for her to follow, leading her deeper into the building. Every step echoed ominously in the narrow hallway, the dim lighting casting eerie shadows along the walls. At the end of the corridor, they stepped into a larger room, filled with people—survivors. Men, women, and children huddled together, some whispering in hushed tones while others sat in silence, their eyes hollow.
"So, it's true?" Janice muttered under her breath, the sight before her sending a chill down her spine. She wasn't sure if she felt relief or terror.
"Yes, ma'am. It sure is," the soldier responded, his voice flat. "This is where you'll sleep. Bathrooms are on your left. Meals are served three times a day. Lights go out at 7 PM sharp. We're powered by solar energy, so we have to conserve it."
Janice nodded absentmindedly, barely registering his words. Her mind raced as her eyes darted around the room, scanning the faces for someone familiar. "Do you know where my family is?" she asked, desperation creeping into her voice.
The soldier shrugged. "Just take a look around. I don't know who's here. We've rescued a lot of people, but there's no system to keep track."
With a quick, breathless thanks, Janice hurried into the sea of survivors. Every face she passed felt like a blow to her gut—strangers, all of them. Panic gnawed at her insides. She couldn't find them. The crowd seemed to close in around her, their murmurings a suffocating cacophony.
Tears stung her eyes as she dropped to her knees in exhaustion. Her children—where were they? Her heart pounded wildly, fear and exhaustion overtaking her. As she was about to lose hope, a faint voice called out from behind her.
"Mom!"
Janice's head whipped around, her heart leaping into her throat. "Mom! Mom!" The voices were louder now. She blinked away her tears and there, through the crowd, she saw them. Her boys—Dougie and Alex—pushing through the throng of survivors, their small faces beaming with joy. They ran toward her, arms outstretched.
"Oh, thank God," Janice sobbed, rising shakily to her feet. "Thank you, God!" She opened her arms wide and pulled her boys into a fierce embrace, tears streaming freely down her face. "I knew you were safe. I knew it!"
"Mom, we missed you so much!" Dougie cried; his voice muffled against her chest. Alex nodded, tears in his own eyes as he clung to her tightly.
Janice hugged them so hard it felt as if she might never let go. She kissed their cheeks over and over again, savoring the warmth of their skin. "Here's some kisses for my babies," she whispered, her voice trembling.
But as the flood of relief washed over her, a sudden realization hit her. She hadn't seen Ron—her husband. She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with concern. "Where's your dad, babies? Where's Ron?"
Dougie, the older of the two, shrugged, his face clouded with confusion. "I don't know, Mom. He left last night."
Alex, his younger brother, echoed the same response, shaking his head. "Mommy, I don't know."
Behind the boys, a man and a woman stood silently. The woman, with kind but weary eyes, stepped forward and introduced herself. "Hi, ma'am. I'm Lilly, and this is my brother Tom." She ~hesitated; her voice soft. "Your husband… Ron… he left your boys with us. He said something wasn't right here and asked us to watch them. That was last night. We haven't seen him since."
Janice's blood ran cold. Her spine tingled with a deep, unsettling fear. "Something wasn't right here?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. A knot tightened in her stomach as her mind raced with terrifying possibilities.
Tom stepped forward, nodding grimly. "Yeah. He seemed really on edge, said things weren't adding up. He wanted to go check something out, but he never came back."
Janice's head spun. Her relief was rapidly giving way to dread. What had Ron discovered? What was happening in this camp? Her thoughts spiraled, but her focus remained fixed on her children. She wouldn't let them see her fear.
As Lilly and Tom continued to explain the strange occurrences in the camp, Janice's gaze drifted over their shoulders. She noticed Martha and Travis walking in from afar, their faces drawn with worry. But even as her loved ones reunited, Janice couldn't shake the gnawing feeling deep in her gut.
Would she find her husband? Would they ever be whole again?
To be continued...