The sun barely peeked through the crumbling buildings as the group set out for the food store. The streets, once bustling with life, now lay abandoned, the emptiness only amplified by the distant sounds of the infected moaning and stumbling through the wreckage.
Alex tightened his grip on his knife, the cold steel a reminder of how quickly everything could unravel. Despite the danger, he felt a strange calmness wash over him. They had made it this far. They had survived the chaos, the uncertainty, and now they were taking control of their fate.
Sam led the way, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. Jack walked beside him, his steps deliberate and measured. Sarah trailed behind, keeping a careful distance from the rest of the group, her gaze constantly shifting between the buildings around them. Her caution was palpable, and Alex couldn't blame her. They were in hostile territory, and every corner could hide something deadly.
"Stay close," Sam instructed, his voice low. "We don't know what we're walking into."
"Got it," Jack said, adjusting his backpack.
Alex nodded, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling of anxiety that crept up his spine. They had been lucky so far, but luck wasn't something they could rely on forever.
They reached the food store after a tense, quiet walk through the desolate streets. The building loomed before them, its glass windows shattered, the once bright signage now faded and worn. Despite the decay, Alex could see the faint glimmer of hope. Inside, there might be enough food to last them weeks—maybe even months.
But the entrance was blocked.
A pile of debris and collapsed shelving obstructed the front door. Sam frowned, taking a step closer to the entrance. "We'll need to find another way in."
The group moved around the building, looking for any alternate entry points. After a few minutes, Sam spotted a broken window at the back of the store.
"There. We'll go in through there," he said, pointing. "Be careful. I don't want anyone getting hurt."
They approached the window cautiously, checking for any signs of movement. The area seemed quiet, but they had learned not to trust appearances. The infected were unpredictable, and the danger could come from any direction.
Sam climbed through the window first, his body disappearing into the darkness beyond. Jack followed, then Sarah. Alex hesitated for a moment, then pulled himself through, landing silently on the cold floor inside.
The store was eerily quiet, the air thick with dust and decay. It was clear that the shelves had been raided long ago, but there was still a faint smell of food in the air. Alex's heart raced as he scanned the room, hoping for anything of use.
"There's still some stuff here," Jack said, peering into a nearby aisle. He pulled out a can of beans and tossed it to Sam. "We're not empty-handed yet."
"Good," Sam said, nodding in approval. "Keep looking. We need all we can find."
They moved methodically through the store, searching for anything of value. Cans of food. Bottles of water. Anything that could help them survive another few days. Every now and then, the sound of footsteps or the scrape of metal on concrete sent a jolt of fear through Alex. But they found nothing—nothing except for the remnants of a world that had once been full of life.
Then, near the back of the store, Alex found something.
A locked storage room.
He motioned for Sam, and together, they pried open the door. Inside, they found a stash of medical supplies and a few more cans of food. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep them going for a little while longer.
"This should do it," Sam said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "We've got enough to last us a few more days. Let's head back."
As they made their way back to the window, Alex couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. It was too quiet. The streets were eerily still, and he couldn't help but wonder if the infected had found them. Or worse—if someone else had.
"Stay sharp," Sam warned, his voice tense. "We're not out of the woods yet."
Alex nodded, keeping his eyes peeled. He had learned to trust his instincts in this new world, and right now, they were telling him something was wrong.
As they crawled back through the window, Alex couldn't help but glance over his shoulder, his senses on high alert.
And that's when he saw it.
A figure in the distance.
The figure in the distance was barely visible, just a shadow against the light of the ruined streets. Alex's heart skipped a beat, and he froze mid-step, trying to make out any detail that could tell him who—or what—it was.
"Sam," Alex whispered, his voice urgent.
Sam, who was climbing through the window after Sarah, paused and turned. "What is it?"
"Someone's out there," Alex replied, his eyes still locked on the silhouette. It wasn't moving much, but it was too far to be certain. It could be an infected. It could be something worse.
Sam squinted, but the figure was already disappearing behind a nearby building. "Could be a survivor," he muttered, his tone cautious. "Could be trouble."
"Should we check it out?" Jack asked from the window, his face tense.
"No. We don't know who they are or what they want. We've got what we need," Sam said, his voice firm. "We're heading back. Quietly."
The group nodded in agreement, but Alex couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Every crack of debris beneath their boots, every gust of wind through the ruined city, made his skin crawl. As they moved through the dark streets, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The silence was thick and oppressive, broken only by the distant groans of the infected that echoed faintly through the empty buildings.
They reached the shelter without incident, but Alex couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that they weren't alone. As they slipped inside the building, Sam secured the door behind them, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger.
"Everyone check your gear," Sam instructed, his voice low. "Make sure we didn't lose anything."
Alex quickly examined his backpack. It was mostly intact, with the medical supplies, canned food, and water safely packed inside. But something felt off. His instincts screamed at him to keep his guard up.
"Sarah, keep watch," Sam said as he began organizing the supplies they had scavenged. "Jack, help me with the food."
The group set to work quietly, but Alex's thoughts were far from the task at hand. He couldn't stop thinking about the figure he'd seen earlier. Who was it? And why had they been so cautious, disappearing without a sound?
"Something's not right," Alex muttered under his breath.
Jack glanced up, his expression puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"I just don't trust this," Alex said, shaking his head. "We're being watched. I know it."
Sam looked at him, his brow furrowed. "You're probably just paranoid. We've been on edge for too long. But if it'll make you feel better, we'll double-check the perimeter."
They finished organizing their supplies in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Sarah moved to the corner of the room, keeping watch through a small crack in the boarded-up window. Jack was busy making a small fire, the warmth cutting through the chill of the air, while Sam continued to sort through the cans of food they'd managed to find.
Alex couldn't shake the feeling that the quiet was only temporary. It had been too easy. They had found supplies without encountering any significant threats. There had been no infected waiting in ambush, no raiders or hostile survivors. Everything was going too smoothly.
And that was the problem.
As the fire crackled, Alex sat down against the wall, his thoughts racing. His mind kept replaying the scene outside the food store. The figure had vanished quickly, but something in the way it had moved didn't sit right with him. It was almost as if they knew the group was there. As if they had been watching from the shadows.
"Sam," Alex said again, his voice more urgent now. "We need to go back and check it out. I'm telling you, there's someone out there."
Sam didn't respond immediately, but Alex could see the conflict in his eyes. He was torn between trusting Alex's instincts and not wanting to risk the group's safety by taking unnecessary chances.
After a long pause, Sam nodded. "Alright. We'll go in groups. Stay sharp."
Jack stood up and grabbed his weapon. "I'll go with you. We'll move quickly, in and out."
"Sarah, stay here," Sam said, his voice steady. "Keep watch."
The tension in the room was thick as they gathered their things and prepared to head out again. Alex's heart raced as they exited the shelter, his thoughts still on the figure he'd seen. They moved quickly, staying low and quiet, retracing their steps toward the area where Alex had spotted the silhouette.
The streets were eerily quiet as they approached the spot. The buildings around them were cracked and broken, their windows shattered, their foundations crumbling. It was a ghost town, abandoned by all but the infected and the desperate. But Alex couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more lurking in the shadows.
They reached the building where he had seen the figure. It was a tall, narrow structure with a collapsed roof and no windows on the ground floor. Sam signaled for them to stay close as they moved around the side of the building.
"Stay quiet," Sam whispered. "We don't want to alert anyone."
Alex's pulse quickened as they moved, every step bringing them closer to whatever was waiting for them. They rounded the corner and paused, waiting for any sign of movement.
And then, from the shadows, came the unmistakable sound of footsteps.
The footsteps were slow but deliberate, each step echoing off the cracked walls around them. Alex's heart pounded in his chest, the sound of his own breath loud in his ears. They all froze, their eyes darting around the corner to see who—or what—was approaching.
It could have been another survivor, or it could have been a trap. Alex's grip tightened on his weapon, his muscles tensing as he prepared for whatever was coming their way.
The figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the dim light cast by the broken windows of a nearby building. It was a woman, her face covered in dirt and grime, her eyes wild and unblinking. She wore tattered clothing, a dirty jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and boots that looked worn to the point of falling apart.
For a moment, there was silence—an awkward, thick silence where no one moved, no one spoke. Alex's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. Was she hostile? A survivor like them, desperate to survive?
The woman's gaze flickered from Sam to Alex, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and distrust. She had a knife clutched in her hand, its blade worn but still sharp.
"You... you're not one of them," she said, her voice hoarse and shaky.
"No, we're not," Sam said carefully, his eyes never leaving her. "Are you alone?"
She hesitated, her grip tightening on the knife. "I was. I... I don't know anymore."
Alex stepped forward cautiously, keeping his distance. "What do you mean?"
The woman's breath quickened, and she shifted nervously on her feet. "I used to have a group... but they... they turned on me. I couldn't trust them anymore. So I ran."
Sam exchanged a look with Jack, his brow furrowed. "Why are you here?"
"I was looking for supplies," she replied, her voice cracking. "I saw you. I thought maybe... maybe you could help."
There was a long pause as the group considered her words. Sam's eyes narrowed, his mind working through the possibilities. They couldn't afford to trust anyone too easily—not after everything that had happened.
"We're not looking for trouble," Sam said finally. "But we're not handing out help either. We're just trying to survive. You understand?"
The woman nodded slowly, her face unreadable. "I get it. I'm just... I'm just trying to live."
For a moment, it seemed like they might part ways there, with no further words exchanged. But then she took a small step forward, lowering her knife.
"Please," she added, her voice quiet but desperate. "I can't do this alone."
Alex exchanged a glance with Sam. He could see the conflict in his leader's eyes, the hesitation that mirrored his own thoughts. Could they really afford to take in another survivor? They didn't have the luxury of trusting strangers anymore.
"I don't think we should," Alex said, his voice low. "We don't know her. She could be a danger."
"We can't keep surviving alone," Sam replied, his voice hard. "Not forever. If she's telling the truth, she's a survivor just like us. We don't have to trust her right away, but we'll keep an eye on her."
Alex wasn't entirely convinced, but he nodded anyway. He had no real choice. The world had changed. Trust was a luxury that didn't exist anymore. But survival—that was something everyone needed.
"Alright," Sam said, turning back to the woman. "You can come with us. But make no mistake—we're watching you. One wrong move, and you're on your own."
The woman nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and fear. "I won't cause trouble," she promised, her voice barely above a whisper.
The group turned and began walking back toward their shelter, the woman following closely behind them. Her steps were hesitant at first, but as the distance between them and the danger of the outside world grew, she began to walk more steadily.
Alex kept his distance, watching her closely, still unsure. But as they walked, he couldn't help but wonder: Was this a mistake? Or had they just found an ally in the most unlikely of places?
The walk back to the shelter was silent, the group moving quickly but cautiously through the broken streets. Alex's mind raced with questions about the woman who had appeared so suddenly. Her story seemed genuine enough—her fear, her desperation—but that didn't mean she wasn't hiding something.
The infected were bad enough, but other survivors were often just as dangerous, if not more so. After everything they had been through, Alex couldn't afford to be too trusting. Not yet.
As they reached the entrance to the building, Sam glanced over his shoulder. "Stay close," he muttered to the woman. "And no funny business."
She nodded, her eyes downcast, her shoulders tense. She wasn't making any sudden moves, but the group remained wary. They had learned the hard way that survival often meant staying alert, even when things seemed safe.
Once inside, they quickly set up their temporary camp again. The building wasn't ideal—too many windows, too exposed—but it was better than staying outside where the infected roamed freely. The woman, who hadn't introduced herself yet, stood by the door, her eyes darting around the room.
"We need to know your name," Sam said, his tone even but firm.
The woman hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Lena."
"Lena," Sam repeated. "Alright, you're with us for now, but I expect you to follow the rules. We work together, or we don't work at all."
Lena nodded, clearly relieved but still keeping her distance. She didn't sit immediately, instead choosing to stand by the wall, watching the others. Alex couldn't help but notice the way she kept her hands close to her sides, almost as if she were ready to defend herself at any moment.
They gathered around the fire that Jack had built earlier, the warmth slowly filling the cold room. The food supplies they'd gathered earlier were being sorted, and they all took a moment to eat. It was a quiet meal, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Lena ate sparingly, picking at her food as if it didn't quite sit well with her.
"Where did you come from?" Jack asked, breaking the silence. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, eyes focused on the food in front of him.
Lena looked up, as if she hadn't expected the question. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. "A town a few miles from here... or at least, what's left of it. It... it didn't take long before people started turning on each other. The food ran out. The infected kept coming. I didn't stay for long."
"Sounds like everywhere else," Sam muttered. He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. "You weren't the only one who lost people."
Lena's eyes met his, and for a brief moment, there was something in them—something that reminded Alex of the way he felt when he first saw his family torn apart. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know what it's like."
Alex's gaze softened, though he didn't speak. He could see the pain in her eyes, the same pain they all carried with them. But pain was a dangerous thing. It could drive people to do desperate things.
After a few more moments of silence, Sam broke in. "We're not here to be friends. We're here to survive. You help us, and we'll help you. But there are no guarantees."
Lena nodded again. "I understand."
For the next hour, the group settled into a quiet routine. They took turns keeping watch, going over their plans for the next few days. Supplies were limited, and it was clear that they needed to keep moving if they were going to stay ahead of the infected.
Sam turned to Alex. "You keep watch. I'll rest for a bit."
Alex nodded, his eyes scanning the room. It wasn't much, but it was home for now. He sat by the window, keeping a careful eye on the streets below. The city was a ghost town—quiet, dark, and filled with the distant growls and screams of the infected.
His thoughts drifted back to Lena. He didn't trust her completely, but there was something in her eyes—something that made him think she wasn't a threat. Not yet.
But the world they lived in now had no room for second chances. Survival came first, and Alex knew that if Lena proved to be a liability, they wouldn't hesitate to cut her loose.
Hours passed, and the fire burned low. The silence of the night was broken only by the occasional shuffle of footsteps outside, or the far-off moans of the infected. Alex stayed vigilant, keeping his eyes locked on the street below, every sense alert.
It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that he heard something. A soft sound, like a distant scraping noise. His heart rate quickened as he listened intently. There it was again.
A sound from the other side of the building. Closer this time.
"Sam," Alex whispered urgently, not taking his eyes off the sound. "Something's out there."
Sam stirred, his eyes immediately narrowing. He grabbed his weapon and moved toward the door, his body tense.
"Everyone, get ready," Sam muttered. "This might be it."
The group moved into position, weapons at the ready. Lena stood by the wall, her eyes wide, her hand shaking slightly as she gripped her knife. She had said she could handle herself—but in the tense silence that followed, Alex couldn't help but wonder if she truly could.
The noise grew louder, scraping against the walls of the building. The tension in the room was thick, everyone bracing for whatever was coming next.
Then, the door rattled.
The door rattled again, louder this time, as if something—no, someone—was trying to force their way inside. The old wood creaked, strained under the pressure, but it held for now. Alex's grip tightened on his weapon, his mind racing. Was it a survivor? Or something worse?
Lena's breath caught in her throat, and she took a small step back, her eyes wide with fear. Sam held up a hand, signaling for everyone to remain still. His face was unreadable, his body tense with the anticipation of what might be on the other side of that door.
The rattling continued, and Alex could hear the faint shuffle of footsteps just beyond the threshold. Whoever—or whatever—was out there wasn't being subtle.
"Everyone, get in position," Sam whispered, his voice low and steady. "We don't know what we're dealing with."
Lena was already backing up, instinctively putting some distance between herself and the door. Her eyes darted around the room, but Alex couldn't tell if she was looking for an escape route or trying to figure out how best to defend herself.
The tension in the room was palpable. Jack, who had been sitting against the wall, stood up quietly, his eyes scanning the room for anything useful. Alex moved slowly toward the small cabinet in the corner, pulling out anything that could help. They had a few spare weapons—some broken glass bottles, a crowbar—but none of it seemed like it would be enough to deal with whatever was on the other side of that door.
Then, as if to test their patience further, the door groaned under another forceful push. The latch started to give way.
Sam's eyes flashed to Alex, and for a brief moment, they both understood. They needed to make a move, and they needed to make it fast.
Before Sam could give the order, Alex was already moving, crossing the room with quick, silent steps. He reached the door and pressed his ear to it, trying to make out any further sounds. The scraping had stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. His heart raced as he tried to determine whether the threat was still outside.
Just then, a loud crash came from the window across the room.
"Get down!" Sam yelled, pulling Lena to the floor and shielding her with his body.
The impact from the shattered window sent glass flying everywhere. Alex quickly turned, instinctively aiming his weapon toward the sound, his mind working overtime to process the sudden shift in danger.
It was too late.
A figure lunged from the shadows, a blur of motion. Alex barely had time to react before it was on him. The impact knocked him back against the wall, the force of the blow leaving him gasping for breath. His weapon flew from his hands, clattering against the floor just out of reach.
In a split second, Alex found himself struggling to push the figure off, but the person—or whatever it was—was strong. Their hands were cold, and their breath was ragged, each movement violent and erratic.
Lena screamed from the floor, her voice high with panic, but Alex didn't have time to process it. The figure was relentless, clawing at him with a strength that shouldn't have been possible.
He managed to roll to the side, just narrowly avoiding another strike that would have left him defenseless. The room was chaotic now, everyone shouting, moving, trying to survive in the thick of it all.
"Sam! Help!" Alex yelled, his voice strained.
Sam was already on his feet, moving toward the struggle with alarming speed. He grabbed a piece of broken wood from the floor and swung it down on the attacker's back. The force of the blow sent the figure stumbling forward, and Alex scrambled to his feet, quickly grabbing his weapon and aiming at the attacker.
The figure finally stopped moving, crumpling to the floor in a heap.
For a moment, everything was still. The only sound was their heavy breathing.
"Is it dead?" Lena's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes wide with fear.
Sam stepped forward, checking the figure. His face was grim as he knelt down. "It's not an infected," he muttered, his voice low.
Alex frowned. "What do you mean? It looked like one."
"No," Sam said, standing up and shaking his head. "This one's different. It's human."
The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Another survivor, just like them. But this one had clearly gone over the edge—out of desperation, or madness. The attack had been brutal, without any warning.
Alex glanced at Lena, her face pale with shock. She was still huddled against the floor, shaking.
"What the hell happened to them?" Jack muttered from the corner, his voice filled with disbelief.
Sam looked down at the body. "I don't know. But we need to be ready for anything."
They stood in tense silence for a few moments, taking stock of what had just happened. No one spoke.
Finally, Lena stood up, her legs unsteady. She looked at the body, then at Sam. "Are there more of them out there?" Her voice trembled with the question.
Sam hesitated, considering the answer carefully. "There might be."
"We can't stay here," Alex said quickly. "We need to move. Now."
Sam nodded, his face hardening with resolve. "Alright. We'll take what we can carry and get out of here."
The group quickly gathered their supplies, packing up the few things they had managed to keep. It was a hasty process, a frantic attempt to get away from the immediate danger. They had to move—before whatever had brought the stranger to them found them again.
Lena hesitated before following them toward the exit. She was still shaken, but there was something determined in her eyes now. Whatever had happened to that person, it had made her realize just how fragile their existence had become.
"Let's go," Sam said, his voice firm. "We move fast and we keep quiet."
The group made their way out of the building, the air outside cold and still. The street was eerily silent, the remnants of their battle still hanging in the air. There was no sign of the attacker's group, but Alex couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.
They kept moving, staying close together, their eyes constantly scanning for danger. The infected were a constant threat, but now there were humans to worry about as well. Survivors like them, but far more desperate.
The street ahead of them was silent, the dim glow of the streetlights casting long shadows on the cracked pavement. The wind howled through the buildings, carrying with it the faint scent of decay and the distant, unsettling moans of the infected. Alex felt his nerves tighten, every sense alert. The world had become so quiet, so dangerous. No place felt safe anymore.
Sam led the way, his pace deliberate but cautious, his eyes scanning every corner, every building. Jack followed close behind, a little too quiet for comfort, his usual jokes and chatter replaced by the grim silence that hung over them all. Lena walked beside Alex, her steps hesitant but steady. He couldn't help but notice that she kept glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting someone to jump out at them from the shadows.
Alex glanced at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. Her behavior was odd, but then again, they all had their own ways of dealing with the aftermath of everything they'd been through. But there was something about Lena that made him uneasy. She seemed too anxious, too guarded for someone who had supposedly been on her own for so long.
"How far to the next safe house?" Lena asked, breaking the silence.
"A few blocks," Sam answered, his voice low. "Keep your guard up. This area's been overrun more than once."
Alex couldn't help but notice the unease in Sam's voice. If Sam—who had survived longer than most—was nervous, then things had gotten a lot worse out here. They were all running on fumes, both physically and mentally. The stress of the world they now lived in had worn them down, and Alex could see it in their eyes. They were tired. They were all tired.
Lena's question lingered in the air, her tone more desperate than she likely intended. "You think we'll find supplies there?" she asked, her voice softer now.
"We'll find something," Sam replied. "We always do. But supplies are getting scarcer. We can't rely on that forever."
Jack shot him a glance. "So, what do we do then? Keep moving until we starve or get killed by one of those freaks?"
"We survive," Sam answered simply, his voice steady despite the edge of doubt that had crept into his words. "We do whatever we have to."
Alex was about to respond when the sound of footsteps made them all freeze.
"Stay quiet," Sam whispered sharply. His eyes darted toward a narrow alleyway on their left, the source of the sound. The footsteps grew louder, unmistakably human. Someone was coming.
The group instinctively scattered, ducking behind nearby debris, their weapons drawn and ready. Lena pressed herself against the side of a broken-down vehicle, her breathing shallow. Alex's heart pounded in his chest as he crouched behind a stack of overturned crates, his hand gripping his weapon tightly. The sound of footsteps grew closer, until the person—or people—came into view.
It was a small group—three, maybe four people—moving cautiously through the street, their eyes darting around as if searching for something or someone. Alex tensed, ready to spring into action. He wasn't sure whether they were hostile or not, but there was no way to take chances in a world like this.
Sam motioned for everyone to stay hidden, signaling for them to hold their positions. The last thing they needed was to draw attention.
The strangers walked past them without noticing, their faces grim and hollow, their movements slow but deliberate. They didn't look infected, but there was something about their demeanor that made Alex uneasy. Were they survivors like them, or were they just as dangerous as the infected?
As the group passed, Alex breathed a sigh of relief, but his heart still raced. The whole encounter had been too close for comfort. He waited a few moments, watching them disappear into the distance before Sam gave the signal to move.
"Stay sharp," Sam muttered, his voice tight. "That was too close."
Lena looked back over her shoulder, her eyes wide. "What do you think they were doing out here? There's nothing left."
"They're probably looking for the same thing we are," Sam replied, his tone flat. "Survival. People like them... they'll do anything to get it."
Alex's mind raced as they continued walking, his eyes scanning every corner of the street. If those people were any indication, the world was becoming even more dangerous. People were no longer just struggling to survive—they were fighting each other for what little remained.
The safe house was only a few blocks away now, but the sense of dread hanging over them grew with every step. The world outside had become a jungle, and survival meant being willing to do whatever it took. The infected weren't the only threat they had to worry about anymore. In fact, they were becoming less of a concern as the days went by. Humans were turning into the real enemy, driven by desperation, greed, and fear.
"We can't trust anyone," Jack muttered, his voice laced with exhaustion. "Not even other survivors. They're just as dangerous."
Sam nodded grimly. "We'll deal with whoever we find. Just stay close and stay ready."
They walked in silence for a few more blocks, their pace quickening as they neared the next safe house. It was a building they had used before—nothing fancy, but it would have to do. The door was unlocked, and as they stepped inside, they immediately began securing the entrance, making sure no one could get in without them knowing.
Inside, the air was musty, the windows covered with old sheets to block out any light. It was safe for now.
Lena set her bag down on the floor, her eyes scanning the room before she spoke again, her voice small.
"We can't stay here long, can we?" she asked. "I mean... we're running out of time."
Sam turned to her, his face serious. "No. We move out at first light. We don't know what's out there, but we do know that we can't stay in one place for too long. The longer we wait, the more danger we're in."
Lena nodded, her face pale. "What's next, then?"
"We survive," Sam said simply. "We always survive."