The basement had fallen into a tense, fragile quiet. Survivors huddled in small groups, their voices hushed as they murmured among themselves. The only sounds were the occasional groan of the injured and the scrape of furniture being dragged to reinforce the barricades.
Kate sat in a floor. Her thoughts raced. Every passing moment felt like a countdown, each tick echoing louder in her mind.
"I can't stay here," she said abruptly, her voice cutting through the murmurs and quiet sobs.
Every head turned toward her. The room went deathly silent except for the faint hum of the generator.Claire, who was kneeling beside an injured woman, looked up sharply. "What are you talking about?" she asked, frowning.
"My brother," Kate said, her tone steady but heavy with determination. "Ryan. He was supposed to have a game today at the high school across town. If he's still alive, I have to find him."
The room grew even quieter, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Claire straightened, wiping her hands on a bloodied rag. "Kate," she said carefully, "we need you here. You're the one holding this group together. If you leave—"
"I'll come back," Kate interrupted, her voice firm. "But I can't just sit here and do nothing while he might still be out there. You know I can't."
Claire's expression softened, but concern lingered in her eyes. "It's dangerous out there. You don't know what you'll find."
Kate nodded, gripping her crowbar tightly. "I know. But I have to try."
Claire hesitated, then sighed and stepped closer. "Be careful," she said quietly, placing a hand on Kate's shoulder. "And come back. We'll need you."
Kate gave a faint smile, though the weight of the promise made her chest tighten. She gathered her things—a flashlight, a spare first-aid kit, and a few hastily packed supplies. As she stepped toward the door, Evan approached her.
"Want backup?" he asked, his tone casual but his expression serious.
Kate shook her head. "Stay here. They need you more than I do."
Evan hesitated, then nodded. "Good luck," he said simply, his voice low.
The city seemed even darker than before as Kate navigated the ambulance through the desolate streets. The vehicle's headlights cut through the thick, smoky air, illuminating the ruins of what had once been a bustling neighborhood. Now, it was a graveyard.
Cars lay abandoned in chaotic clusters, their windows shattered and doors left ajar. Trash and debris littered the roads—broken glass, discarded clothing, even a child's teddy bear lying face down in a puddle of grime. The occasional flicker of movement in the shadows kept Kate on edge, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles ached.
Every sound felt amplified: the distant wail of a siren, the crackle of fire, the eerie groans of the infected. She drove slowly, her eyes darting between the road ahead and the side mirrors, scanning for any signs of danger.
When she finally reached the high school, her heart sank. The parking lot was empty, its asphalt cracked and overgrown with weeds. The front doors hung open, swaying slightly in the night breeze. Kate killed the engine and sat in silence for a moment, her pulse pounding in her ears.
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her flashlight and crowbar and stepped out of the ambulance.
The high school was eerily silent.
"Ryan?" Kate called, her voice echoing faintly in the stillness.
Her flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the long, empty hallway ahead of her. Lockers lined the walls, their doors dented and hanging open. Papers were strewn across the floor, some crumpled, others stained with dark, rust-colored streaks.
She moved cautiously, her footsteps muffled by the debris underfoot. The air was thick and stale, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood.
Each classroom she passed told a story of panic and abandonment. Desks were overturned, chairs scattered. In one room, she found a textbook lying open on the floor, its pages smeared with what looked like bloody handprints. In another, a whiteboard still displayed a hastily scrawled lesson plan, as if time had frozen in the middle of an ordinary day.
"Ryan?" she called again, her voice quieter this time, tinged with desperation.
The silence that followed was deafening.
When Kate reached the gymnasium, her breath caught in her throat.
The double doors were smashed, their splintered remains hanging from twisted hinges. Blood was smeared across the floor in long, uneven streaks, leading toward the bleachers and the far wall. Her flashlight beam trembled as she swept it across the room, illuminating the carnage.
Shattered glass crunched beneath her boots as she stepped inside, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
"Ryan?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The silence was suffocating, the air thick with the stench of blood and decay. She moved slowly, her flashlight scanning every shadow, every corner. The gym was empty, save for the signs of a violent struggle.
Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor. Tears streamed down her face as the weight of the day crashed over her. The fear, the exhaustion, the guilt—it all threatened to overwhelm her.
But even in her despair, a flicker of hope remained.
If Ryan wasn't here, it meant he could still be alive. He could have escaped. He could be somewhere out there, waiting for her to find him. She had to believe that.
Kate wiped her tears with the back of her hand and forced herself to stand. The others were counting on her. As much as she wanted to keep searching for her brother, she couldn't abandon the group that had placed their trust in her.
With one last glance around the gym, she turned and made her way back to the ambulance. The journey wasn't over. It was only just beginning.