The fire crackled softly, casting long shadows on the faces of the survivors. Curtis sat across from them, his posture stiff, as he observed them with the keen eye of a trained soldier. They were all quieter now, their earlier suspicion fading into a cautious camaraderie. They had shared a brief but intense moment together, clearing out the walkers that had threatened their camp. The tension had dissolved as quickly as it had formed, replaced with the unspoken understanding that they were, in some small way, in this together.
"Don't see many people like you around here," the tall man said, breaking the silence. His voice was gruff, a reflection of his weathered face and the burden of survival. "You've got a soldier's air about you."
Curtis didn't immediately respond. He didn't need to. His silence spoke volumes, and the man seemed to understand. The woman, who had remained mostly quiet up until now, leaned forward. She was still tending the fire, her face illuminated by the orange glow. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, never left Curtis.
"You look like you've seen a lot," she said, her voice steady but laced with curiosity. "Where did you come from?"
Curtis met her gaze, weighing his answer. It wasn't an easy question. The truth was complicated, and he wasn't sure how much he wanted to share. He hadn't spoken to anyone about the hospital, about waking up in this world that felt more like a nightmare than reality. And yet, he knew that the best way to survive was through connections, through alliances. He couldn't afford to keep everyone at arm's length forever.
"From a place that doesn't exist anymore," he said finally, his voice low and flat. It wasn't a lie, not entirely. The world he had known was gone, replaced by something he could hardly comprehend. "I woke up two days ago in a hospital in Macon, Georgia. Had no idea what happened. No idea how I got there."
The tall man, who had introduced himself as Sam, raised an eyebrow. "A hospital? You mean like—before everything went to shit?"
Curtis nodded. "Exactly. Before… this." He gestured vaguely around the camp. "Things fell apart pretty fast. One minute, I was on a mission, and the next, everything went dark. I woke up to a world that was already dead."
The woman, whose name Curtis had learned was Sarah, leaned back against a tree, her arms crossed. She was quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then she spoke, her voice softer this time, almost as if she were contemplating the weight of her words.
"We're all survivors, in one way or another," she said, her eyes flicking toward the fire. "Some of us just don't get to choose how we survive."
Curtis could see the truth in her words. Every one of them had been shaped by the same brutal reality, each carrying the scars of their own survival. He wondered what their stories were, but the question didn't feel right to ask just yet. He wasn't here to make friends; he was here to stay alive. He had learned long ago that emotional connections could be a dangerous thing, but that didn't stop him from feeling the pull of shared experience.
Greg cleared his throat, and Curtis turned his attention back to him. "You ever been to Atlanta?" Greg asked. "I mean, we've heard there's a group down there. A big one."
Curtis shook his head. "I've heard the rumors, but I don't know if they're true. It's a hell of a trek, and I don't know how much of it is still standing."
Sarah shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering toward the distant horizon. "We thought about heading that way, but... it's too dangerous. Too many of them."
"The walkers?" Curtis asked.
"Yeah," Greg said. "And people. The kind of people who'll do anything to survive. The kind who'll kill you for a can of beans." His voice turned dark. "It's not just the dead you have to watch out for now. It's the living. They're worse."
Curtis didn't need to be told that. He had seen it before—how desperation turned people into animals. He had seen his own men break when they were pushed too far. It wasn't hard to imagine how easily the survivors in this new world could lose their humanity. He had already killed one man—self-defense, but it had been necessary. He had no illusions about the world they now lived in.
"We're not ready to go to Atlanta just yet," Sarah said, her voice calm but firm. "We're trying to figure out what our next move is. There's safety in numbers, but it's a gamble. You don't know who you can trust."
Curtis nodded. Trust was a luxury now, one he couldn't afford to give away lightly. He had no problem working with people, but there was always the risk of betrayal. It was better to be prepared for that eventuality.
Greg shifted his weight, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Curtis. "You say you're from Macon? You know anything about the military outposts around here?"
Curtis's heart skipped a beat. The mention of military outposts brought back the memory of the one he had found near the hospital. It had been abandoned—no soldiers, no sign of a fight. Just empty buildings and broken equipment. But there were other outposts. Other caches of supplies. It was possible that some were still intact.
"I know where one is," Curtis said, his voice low. "It's outside Macon. A small military outpost. I raided it for supplies. They didn't leave much, but... it's better than nothing."
Greg looked intrigued, but Sarah's expression darkened. "You think it's safe to go back there? Military outposts aren't exactly... secure anymore."
Curtis didn't meet her gaze. "They weren't secure to begin with. But it's a place to start. Maybe we can find something useful."
He could see the skepticism in their eyes, but he wasn't going to waste any time arguing. He knew that they needed something to keep going. The world had changed so much in so little time, and without the right tools and supplies, survival was almost impossible. He could help them. And maybe, just maybe, they could help him find the answers he was looking for.
The fire crackled again, the warmth of the flames pushing back the chill of the night. For a moment, Curtis allowed himself to relax. The quiet of the camp, the presence of others, offered a small sense of comfort—a luxury he hadn't felt in a long time. But it didn't last. He knew better than to let his guard down completely.
The world was still full of dangers. And in this new reality, the only thing that mattered was staying alive.
"We'll head out in the morning," Curtis said, his voice steady, a plan already forming in his mind. "Get what we need, then decide what's next. We can't afford to waste any more time."
Greg nodded, and Sarah hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Alright. But we do it my way," she said firmly. "We stay sharp. We move fast. And if anything goes wrong, we're out. No questions."
Curtis agreed without hesitation. He could work with that. In this world, trust had to be earned, and time would tell whether he could rely on them. But for now, they were his best chance at finding the next step.
As the fire burned low, the night deepened, and Curtis lay back against the rough ground, his mind drifting. The world outside this camp was a broken place, and Curtis was just another survivor trying to make it through. But in this world, he had one advantage: he wasn't afraid to do whatever it took.