The two of them moved slowly, keeping their hands visible and their weapons secured. Kate kept her crowbar strapped to her belt, and Chris slung his rifle over his back. They didn't want to appear threatening, but they weren't about to approach unarmed, either.
The officers noticed them immediately. The one with the shotgun straightened, his hand drifting toward the weapon. The other, the one with the clipboard, raised a hand to signal for them to stop.
"That's close enough," the man with the clipboard called out, his tone firm but not aggressive. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
Kate stopped several feet away, raising her hands slightly in a gesture of nonthreatening compliance. "We're just looking for supplies. Saw the station and thought it might be worth checking out."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "You came here looking for supplies and didn't think to check if it was already occupied?"
Chris stepped in, his tone casual but measured. "Didn't want to assume. Last time we checked a building without looking, it almost got us killed."
The officer with the shotgun chuckled dryly. "Smart move. And now?"
Kate took a step forward, slowly, her hands still visible. "I'm Kate, and this is Chris. Like we said, we're just passing through. We're not looking for trouble—just hoping to trade or maybe find a group to join."
The man with the clipboard studied them, his gaze lingering on their gear. "You two alone?"
Kate hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before nodding. "Yeah. Been on our own for a while now."
The shotgun officer let out a dry chuckle, his grip on the weapon relaxing slightly. "You don't look like you've been struggling too hard."
Chris chimed in, gesturing vaguely back toward the street. "We were heading through the area when we saw this place. Figured if there were people here, it was worth checking out."
The officer exchanged a look with his companion before turning back to them. "You're lucky we're not the shoot-first type. You're not the first group to wander through here."
Kate didn't let her guard down. "That's good to hear. Means you're reasonable."
The officer tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Reasonable depends on the situation. And on the people."
Chris folded his arms, his posture relaxed but his tone edged with caution. "Fair enough. So, what's the situation here? You all seem pretty settled."
The officer didn't answer right away. He seemed to be weighing something, his gaze flicking between Kate and Chris. Finally, he sighed. "Alright. Come inside. You can talk to our leader, but if you try anything, it won't end well for you."
The man with the shotgun smirked, patting the weapon. "And trust me, we'll know if you're lying."
Kate nodded, keeping her expression neutral. "Understood."
As they followed the officers into the building, Kate exchanged a brief glance with Chris. It was a subtle look, but it spoke volumes. They were stepping into the unknown, and while the situation seemed stable for now, they both knew how quickly things could change.
The interior of the station was dimly lit, with natural light streaming through the broken windows. The air smelled faintly of mildew and something metallic, like old blood. The reception area had been cleared out and repurposed, with a few chairs pushed together to form a makeshift seating area. A large table in the center held maps, scattered papers, and an assortment of weapons.
Several people looked up as Kate and Chris entered. There were more than she'd initially thought—at least ten, including the two officers. Most of them were adults, but there were a few younger faces mixed in. The teenager and the kid they'd seen outside were seated in a corner, sorting through what looked like canned food.
Kate and Chris were led to the center of the room, where a man sat at the table, his fingers steepled as he studied the map in front of him. He was older, maybe in his late forties, with graying hair and a calm but commanding presence. He looked up as they approached, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto them.
"I hear we have visitors," he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge of curiosity. His sharp eyes scanned Kate and Chris. "Who are you?"
Kate stepped forward slightly. "I'm Kate. This is Chris. We're just passing through, looking for supplies."
The man raised an eyebrow. "And you thought a police station would be a good place to find them?"
Chris shrugged. "Seemed like a good bet. And it looks like we were right."
The man's lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile. "Fair enough. But you should know, everything here belongs to us now. We don't take kindly to people scavenging what's ours."
Kate held his gaze. "We're not here to take anything without asking. Like I told your people outside, we're just looking to trade—or maybe find a group to join."
The man crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "Join, huh?, That's a bold move, walking into someone else's territory and asking for a spot."
Kate kept her expression steady. "We figured it was better than sneaking around and getting mistaken for a threat."
The man's lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile. "Smart. But being smart doesn't mean you're trustworthy."
Chris folded his arms, his tone measured. "We're not looking to cause trouble. We're just tired of being on our own."
The man raised an eyebrow. "And what do you bring to the table? Skills? Resources? Anything that makes you worth keeping around?"
Kate glanced at Chris, then back at the man. "We're resourceful. We know how to survive, and we don't cause trouble. We've been on our own long enough to know how to pull our weight."
The man studied her for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. Let's start with names. I'm Marcus. And if you want to stick around, you're going to have to prove yourselves."
Kate glanced at Chris before nodding. "Fair enough."
Marcus gestured toward the chairs. "Sit. Let's talk about what you can offer—and what you're looking for."
Marcus leaned forward slightly, his fingers laced together. "Alright, since you're here, why don't you start by telling us a bit about yourselves? Who you are, what you can do, and why we shouldn't toss you out on your asses."
Kate kept her expression steady, even as she felt the weight of the room pressing down on her. "I'm Kate. Been surviving out here for a while now. I've got a knack for finding supplies and making do with what's available. I can fight if it comes to that, but I'm more interested in finding ways to keep people alive."
Chris nodded and spoke next, his tone calm but confident. "Chris. I'm good with firearms, hand-to-hand combat, and fixing things—cars, radios, generators, you name it. Before all this, I worked as a mechanic and dabbled in construction. I'm not here to pick fights; I'm here to get through this mess alive."
Marcus watched them both intently, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of deceit. After a moment, he nodded slightly, leaning back in his chair. "Alright. You've got some skills. That's a start. This station is more than just a shelter—it's a home. We've fought hard to keep it standing, and we don't let just anyone through those doors. You two showing up means you either have some guts or some desperation—maybe both. Either way, if you want to stay, you'll need to prove you're useful to us."
Kate straightened her posture, meeting his eyes with quiet confidence. "We understand. We're not here to take advantage of you or your group. We're survivors, just like you. And we're more than willing to pull our weight."
Chris nodded, his arms crossed but his tone steady. "We've been on our own for a while now, and trust me, we've learned how to handle ourselves. You won't regret giving us a chance."
Marcus studied them for a moment, his dark eyes scanning their faces as if searching for cracks in their resolve. After a long pause, he gave a slight nod. "We'll see."
Marcus turned to gesture at the others scattered around the room. "Before we talk about next steps, let me introduce you to the people who make this place work."
He pointed first to the officer with the clipboard who had greeted them outside. "That's Officer Morrison. He handles logistics—keeping track of supplies, managing patrols, and planning routes. If there's a plan, he's the one who wrote it."
Morrison nodded curtly, his eyes sharp as he looked Kate and Chris over. "I don't tolerate slackers or screw-ups. If you're here, pull your weight. Simple as that."
Next, Marcus motioned toward Daniels, the officer still standing near the front door with a shotgun slung over her shoulder. "That's Officer Daniels. She's our enforcer—keeps the perimeter secure, trains people to handle weapons, and steps in when things get messy."
Daniels smirked faintly, her eyes glinting with a mix of challenge and curiosity. "If you can't shoot, I'll teach you. If you won't shoot, you're useless. Got it?"
Kate returned the smirk, her tone calm. "Crystal clear."
Marcus moved on to the trio of scavengers Kate had spotted earlier unloading bags near the entrance. "That's Henry, Amelia, and Victor," Marcus said, pointing to each in turn.
Henry, a rugged man in his thirties with a scruffy beard, gave them a small wave. "We're the ones keeping this place stocked," he said, his voice low but steady. "It's not glamorous, but it's what keeps us alive."
Amelia, a sharp-eyed woman in her late twenties, nodded in acknowledgment. "We're good at what we do," she added matter-of-factly. "Don't get in our way, and we'll get along fine."
Victor, a wiry man with a nervous energy, avoided eye contact, busying himself with organizing the supplies they'd brought in.
"They've been with me since the early days," Marcus explained. "They know the streets better than anyone else."
Marcus then gestured toward the teenager and the young boy sitting near the corner. "That's Mia and Lucas. Mia's sixteen, Lucas is ten. They're siblings. Their parents didn't make it, so we look after them now."
Mia glanced up from where she was organizing cans of food. Her gaze was guarded, but her voice was firm. "I don't need anyone looking after me," she said. "I can handle myself."
Lucas, clutching a small toy car in his hands, stayed silent, his wide eyes darting nervously between Kate and Chris.
"And finally," Marcus said, pointing to a woman setting up a makeshift medical station in the corner, "that's Carla. She's a nurse, and she's the reason a lot of us are still standing."
Carla gave a polite smile as she sorted through her supplies. "If you get hurt, come to me. But don't expect miracles—I'm working with scraps here."