The smell of cooking filled the school cafeteria-turned-dining hall as the group gathered for dinner. Conversations and laughter echoed softly off the walls as everyone shared stories of the day. The long table in the center, was packed with people. Dinner had become more than just a meal—it was a time for connection, a moment where they could temporarily forget the horrors lurking outside their gates.
Kate sat at the head of the table, her seat by habit rather than command. To her right was Eric, who was still basking in the glory of his repaired radio, and to her left sat Sam, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the room as though ready to address any issue that might arise.
The hum of conversation rose and fell like a gentle tide, punctuated by the occasional laugh. She took a sip from her tin cup, listening as Eric excitedly recounted the story of fixing the radio to Lisa and Jake.
The radio sat in the center of the table, still on, a quiet but steady hum of static emanating from it as Eric continued to tweak its settings.. As plates were passed around and conversation flowed Suddenly, the static was replaced by a crackling voice.
"...repeat, if you're hearing this, there's a camp to the west, near the mountains. The infected movement has slowed significantly due to the cold weather. We welcome survivors, all survivors. Food, shelter, protection—we have it all. And better yet, we've established contact with the government. They've assured us that everything will be returning to normal soon. Hang in there, everyone. Help is on the way."
The voice faded back into static.
The room fell silent, the weight of the broadcast settling over the group like a blanket. Then, one by one, the voices rose.
"Did you hear that?" Eric said, leaning forward with wide eyes. "Contact with the government? They've got to have resources, maybe even soldiers! This could be it! This could be the end of this nightmare."
Lisa, sitting beside Jake, clutched her mug tightly, her face lighting up with cautious hope. "If they're working with the government, then maybe there's a cure. Maybe they're rebuilding somewhere safe—like a real city."
Jake, who had been quietly picking at his food, grinned. "See? I told you things would get better eventually. They've probably got doctors, engineers, and all sorts of resources. Near the mountains makes sense too—it's isolated and defensible."
Tom,sitting further down the table, raised a skeptical eyebrow but kept his tone neutral. "Sounds great on paper, but how far is 'near the mountains'? That's not exactly specific. What's their food supply situation like? We'd need more details before packing up everything and heading out there."
Chris leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "I'm with Tom. Sounds promising, but we've got it pretty good here. We've worked hard to make this camp safe. Do we really want to risk the trip just for a maybe?"
Harper, sitting next to Sophia, chimed in with a more optimistic tone. "If it's true, it's worth the risk.
Evan, ever the pragmatist, shrugged. "The cold slowing them down makes sense. Winter's always been a natural barrier. But getting there would be dangerous. Snow could make the roads harder to travel, and it'd be a nightmare if we got stranded somewhere."
Grace, her voice tentative but hopeful, looked at Kate. "But if it's true… wouldn't it be worth it? To finally stop surviving and start living again?"
Throughout the conversation, Kate remained silent. She stared at the radio as though it might reveal some hidden truth. The others' voices blended into a distant hum as she wrestled with the uneasy feeling clawing at her gut.
Sam, seated to her left, finally broke through her thoughts. "Kate." His deep voice carried a weight that silenced the table. "What do you think?"
All eyes turned to her.
Kate exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair. "The news is… good," she began, her tone careful. "But it feels off. Too good to be true."
Eric frowned. "Off? What's off about it? They've got government contact, for crying out loud!"
"That's just it," Kate replied, her voice steady but firm. "They're practically begging people to come. Food, shelter, protection, government support—it's everything we want to hear. And that's exactly why it feels like bait."
"Bait?" Lisa asked, her brow furrowing. "Why would anyone do that?"
Kate shrugged. "Desperation makes people dangerous. Maybe they need more people to defend their camp. Maybe they're running out of food and need us to bring our supplies. Or maybe it's worse than that."
Harper looked at her with a mixture of concern and hope. "But what if it's real? What if they're actually trying to help?"
Kate's gaze softened as she met Harper's eyes. "Then they'll still be there after we've had time to verify the claims. But rushing into it? That's how people die."
Chris leaned forward, his expression grim. "She's got a point. I've seen too many traps out there—places that looked safe but turned out to be anything but. We've worked hard to make this camp secure. I'm not risking that on a long shot."
"But what if it's our only shot?" Grace countered, her voice rising with emotion. "We can't just ignore this. What if we miss our chance at a real future?"
Jake, his optimism faltering slightly, looked down at his plate. "I don't know. It sounded genuine. But... I guess it wouldn't hurt to wait and see."
Eric let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You're all so paranoid. Not everyone out there is trying to screw us over. This could be the break we've been waiting for!"
Sam placed a hand on Eric's shoulder, his tone measured. "Caution isn't paranoia. It's survival. Kate's right—we can't afford to take this at face value."
The dining hall was quiet now, the laughter and clinking of cutlery replaced by an uneasy hush. Plates sat abandoned on the table, and most of the group had dispersed, retreating to their rooms or their duties. But a few remained, their faces illuminated by the dim light of a lantern perched on the table beside the radio.
Kate stayed in her seat, her elbows resting on the table, hands clasped in front of her mouth. The static from the radio was softer now, almost like a distant whisper. She stared at it as though trying to will the voice to return, to offer more answers—or expose its hidden truths.
Chris pulled up a chair beside her, his footsteps deliberately light as if not to disturb her thoughts. He placed a tin cup of lukewarm water in front of her and leaned back in his seat.
"Drink," he said softly.
Kate blinked, her focus shifting to him. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and took the cup, nodding her thanks. She sipped in silence, waiting for him to speak.
"You really think it's a trap?" Chris asked, his voice low but steady.
Kate hesitated, swirling the water in her cup as she considered her answer. "I don't know," she admitted finally. "It could be real. But something about it feels… wrong. It's like they're saying exactly what we want to hear. Too perfect. Too convenient."
Chris ran a hand through his short, dark hair, his brow furrowing. "I've been out there enough to know you're probably right. But man, I'd give anything to believe it."
Kate glanced at him, her lips curving into a faint, wry smile. "Since when did you get so optimistic?"
"Since never," Chris replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm just saying, it'd be nice if, for once, the world threw us a bone instead of a death sentence."
Kate chuckled softly, the sound almost foreign in the heavy atmosphere. "Yeah, it would be."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the soft hum of the radio filling the space between them. Then Chris leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
"You know," he began, his tone more serious, "you've got a good head for this. For leading. People listen to you because they trust you. If you think this is a bad idea, they'll follow your lead. But… it wouldn't kill you to let someone else carry the weight once in a while."
Kate's smile faded, her eyes dropping to the table. "I can't afford to. If something goes wrong because I let my guard down, it's on me. These people depend on us, Chris. On me. If I don't keep pushing—"
Chris cut her off gently. "If you don't keep pushing, you'll break. And then where will we be?"
The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard. She met his gaze, surprised to see the worry there. It wasn't the hardened, pragmatic Chris she was used to. This was something softer, more personal.
"I'm fine," she said, but her voice wavered.
"No, you're not," Chris replied. He reached out and placed a hand over hers, his calloused fingers warm against her skin. "You don't have to do this alone, Kate. You've got us. You've got me."
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn't look away from him. The weight of his words settled over her, filling the cracks she hadn't realized were there.
"Chris, I…" she started, but before she could finish, the static on the radio shifted, a faint voice cutting through.
"...repeat… welcome… survivors… west…"
They both snapped their attention to the radio, the moment between them broken. Kate leaned forward, turning the dial to clear the signal, but it was gone again, replaced by the same static as before.
"Damn," Chris muttered, sitting back.
Kate exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "It's like it's mocking us."