As the truck rumbled to a stop a block away from the police station, Chris killed the engine, and an eerie silence fell over the group. The faint rustle of leaves and the distant groan of a zombie somewhere in the maze of ruined buildings were the only sounds. Kate leaned forward, peering out of the windshield at the station. What was once a symbol of law and order now stood as a shell of its former self, its windows shattered, graffiti scrawled across its walls, and the front steps littered with debris.
Chris broke the silence, his voice low. "I don't like the look of this place."
Evan, sitting in the backseat with Eric, tightened the strap on his backpack. "Yeah, no kidding. Looks like someone's been here.", nodding toward the building.
Kate opened the passenger door, the creak of the hinges grating in the still air. "Could be survivors, could be something worse. Either way, we need to find out."
Kate climbed out, her hand resting on the grip of her crowbar. "Stay low and keep your eyes open. We'll approach on foot." She glanced back at the others, who were following her lead.
Eric hesitated as he hopped out of the truck, adjusting the toolkit slung over his shoulder. "We're really doing this? This place gives me the creeps."
Chris smirked faintly, pulling his rifle from the rack behind the seat. "What doesn't give you the creeps, Eric?"
Eric shot him a look. "Oh, I don't know, Chris. Maybe places where we're not potentially walking into a trap."
Kate raised a hand, silencing their exchange. "Enough. Stay sharp. We're not here to joke around."
The group moved forward cautiously, staying close to the walls and out of sight. Kate led the way, her eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. As they neared the building, she caught a flicker of movement through one of the shattered windows. She froze, motioning for the others to stop.
"Someone's in there," Evan whispered, his voice barely audible. He tightened his grip on the knife in his hand, his knuckles white.
Kate nodded, her mind racing. She crouched down behind an overturned dumpster, signaling for the others to do the same. "Alright," she whispered. "We need to figure out who we're dealing with."
Chris squatted next to her, peering over the edge of the dumpster. "What's the play? We're not exactly in a position to storm the place."
Kate's lips pressed into a thin line. "We're not storming anything. This is recon. We need to know who's inside, how many there are, and if they're a threat."
Eric glanced over his shoulder, his expression tense. "And what if they are a threat?"
Kate didn't answer immediately. She studied the building, her gaze lingering on the broken windows and the faint shadows moving inside. Finally, she turned to Eric and Evan. "You two head back to the truck."
"What?" Eric's voice rose slightly, but Kate silenced him with a sharp look.
"You're going to continue with the supply run," she said firmly. "Head to the pharmacy and the convenience store. If you find anything useful, bring it back to the school and let Sam know about the situation here. Chris and I will stay behind and see what we're dealing with."
Eric frowned, clearly unhappy with the decision. "And leave you two here alone? That's a terrible idea."
Kate's tone was steel. "We'll be fine. We're not going to engage unless we absolutely have to. Now go."
Evan hesitated, his gaze flicking between Kate and Chris. Finally, he grabbed Eric's sleeve, tugging him toward the truck. "Come on. Let's not make this harder than it needs to be."
Eric muttered something under his breath but relented, following Evan back toward the vehicle. Kate watched them go, waiting until they were out of sight before turning to Chris.
"Alright," she said, her voice low. "Let's move in closer."
Kate and Chris crept closer to the station, using the shadows for cover. As they reached the side of the building, they peered through a cracked window. Inside, a group of survivors was gathered around a makeshift table. Their weapons were scattered around them, and their body language screamed distrust.
"Looks like they've made themselves at home," Chris murmured.
Kate studied the group, her eyes narrowing. "They don't look like a threat, but we can't assume anything. If we're going to approach them, we need to be careful."
Chris glanced at her. "And if they're not friendly?"
Kate's grip on her crowbar tightened. "Then we walk away. We're not here to start a fight."
They continued to watch, their breaths shallow as they assessed the situation. The group inside seemed to be arguing, their voices muffled but agitated. One of them—a tall man with a scar running down his cheek—slammed his hand on the table, silencing the others.
"Great," Chris muttered. "They're already on edge."
Kate motioned for him to follow her, leading him around to the front of the building. "Stay close. Let me do the talking."
Chris nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife. "Let's hope they're in a talking mood."
Kate and Chris crept along the side of the building, keeping to the shadows. The morning light cast long shadows across the ground, and the faint sound of voices drifted through the air, muffled by the walls of the station.
Chris crouched beside her, his rifle at the ready. "What's the plan if they're not friendly?"
Kate glanced at him, her expression grim. "Then we leave. We're not equipped for a fight right now."
He nodded, though his grip on the rifle remained firm. "Fair enough. But if they see us and things go south—"
"We'll handle it," Kate cut him off, her tone leaving no room for argument. "For now, we're just observing."
Kate and Chris crouched behind a rusted car a short distance from the police station, carefully observing the activity around the building. The sunlight glinted off the glass shards in the broken windows, casting fractured beams of light across the cracked pavement. The two of them stayed silent, their eyes focused on the figures moving near the entrance.
Two people, dressed in what appeared to be police uniforms, stood near the entrance. They weren't fully geared but wore enough to suggest they'd once been part of law enforcement. One had a pistol holstered at his hip and held a worn clipboard, while the other leaned casually against the wall with a shotgun resting across his lap. Their postures weren't overly hostile, but they kept an air of alertness.
Kate's gaze shifted as three others approached the entrance from the street, each carrying a backpack that sagged with weight. They exchanged brief words with the police officers before disappearing inside. Meanwhile, a teenager and a younger child, perhaps no older than ten, approached the officers with plastic water bottles. The officers accepted them, one of them giving the kids a small smile.
Kate squinted, focusing on the officer with the clipboard. "He's writing something. Inventory, maybe?" she whispered to Chris.
"Could be," Chris murmured. "Or keeping a log of who's coming and going.
Kate leaned closer to Chris, whispering so low it was barely audible. "They're organized. Not just scavengers passing through."
Organization was both a good and a bad sign. It meant these people had their act together, but it also meant they were likely cautious—maybe even territorial. If things went south, convincing them they were harmless might be an uphill battle.
Chris nodded, his brow furrowed. "Yeah, but it doesn't mean they're safe. They could just be better at hiding it."
Kate didn't reply immediately. She continued to watch the scene unfold, taking in the details. The way the officers stood, the casual interactions with the kids—it didn't give off an immediate sense of danger. These people weren't acting like ruthless bandits, but appearances could be deceiving. She couldn't ignore the fact that she still had no idea how many more might be inside.
"They don't seem hostile," Kate said finally, her voice cautious. "At least not on the surface."
Chris shifted his weight, adjusting his grip on his rifle. "Maybe. Or maybe they're just better at hiding it than most."
Kate turned her attention back to the group. "If they were hostile, those kids wouldn't be out here. And the way they're working together—it's not chaotic. That's a good sign."
Chris didn't look convinced. "And what if it's an act?"
Kate gave him a sharp look. "That's why we're approaching carefully. We stick to the story. No mention of the school, no mention of the others. We're just two survivors, looking for supplies and shelter. Keep it simple."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "And what if they ask too many questions? People like this might not trust random strangers."
"Then we leave," Kate said firmly. "We don't push it. If something feels off, we walk away."
Chris exhaled, nodding reluctantly. "Alright. Let's do this."