The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable tension that hung over the group like a storm cloud, waiting for the first crack of thunder. Leila's mind raced with thoughts of what was coming—what had already begun. The world outside the cabin felt more dangerous with each passing hour. The news from the outside was sparse, but it was enough. The infection was spreading. People were dying. And sooner or later, it would reach them.
As she glanced around the room, Leila felt the weight of the decision she had made when assembling this group. Mark, Fiona, Darren—each of them had their place in this fight. They had their uses, their skills, but she couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling that they were still too vulnerable. The cracks were starting to show, whether it was in Fiona's curt responses or the way Mark's eyes seemed to linger on the map longer than necessary. There was something unsaid between them all, something that Leila couldn't pinpoint, but she could feel it. And in a world like this, that was a dangerous thing to ignore.
"Everyone has their roles," she said, breaking the silence that had settled into the cabin like a fog. Her voice was steady, but she knew it was only a matter of time before the fragile bonds they shared would be tested.
Fiona looked up, her eyes sharp but weary. "What's the plan for the night?" she asked, shifting the conversation away from the unspoken tension. She was always practical, always focused on the task at hand.
Leila ran her fingers along the edge of the map again, her mind running through the possibilities. "We move out first thing tomorrow. I've got a list of towns nearby we can hit. They'll have supplies—medical, food, anything we can scrounge up."
Mark cleared his throat, and Leila looked up to find his eyes steady on hers. There was a weight in his gaze, something unreadable. "We need more than that," he said quietly, his voice low. "What happens if we don't make it in time? What if the outbreak is already there, spreading faster than we think?"
Leila held his gaze, her mind whirling. He's right, she thought. They were running out of time. The calm before the storm was fading, slipping through their fingers. She knew the outbreak was inevitable, but she hadn't wanted to face it head-on, not yet.
But she didn't have the luxury of avoiding it anymore.
"We prepare," she said firmly, drawing the room's attention back to her. "We get what we can. And we don't stop. If the infection's there, we'll deal with it. If we don't—" She paused, the words hanging in the air for a moment. "Then we move on."
Darren, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up from his position by the barricade, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "I don't like it," he said, his voice flat but tinged with something else—something Leila couldn't place. "We're leaving ourselves exposed. I've seen what this virus does to people. If we're not careful, it could be us next."
Leila's jaw tightened, but she kept her voice steady. "I know. But we can't stay here. We need supplies, and we need to know where the outbreak is coming from. We'll find out what we're up against."
There was a silence in the room, broken only by the soft rustling of the wind against the cabin walls. Leila could feel the weight of their uncertainty pressing in on her, but she wasn't about to back down. Not now. Not when they were so close.
Fiona spoke again, her voice quieter now. "I don't trust the people out there," she said, her eyes flickering toward the window. "We can't afford to trust anyone who isn't here with us."
Leila nodded slowly, understanding the sentiment all too well. Trust was a fragile thing these days, like glass in a storm. It could shatter in an instant. "I'm not relying on anyone we haven't vetted," she said firmly. "We'll stay close. If things go south, we go dark. No one knows where we're going."
"Good," Darren muttered, his gaze scanning the trees once more. "That's the only way to be sure."
Leila turned back to the map, her fingers tracing a path across the paper. She could feel the shift in the air, the weight of their collective thoughts bearing down on her. There was more at stake now than just survival. They needed to know what they were up against—and when the storm hit, they needed to be ready.
"We'll head for the nearest town at first light," she said, making the decision final. "And we'll take it one step at a time. Whatever happens, we'll stay together."
Mark nodded, though his expression was still tight, uncertain. But then, he was always the cautious one. The voice of reason. Sometimes, that was exactly what she needed.
The room settled into an uneasy silence, the distant howl of whatever creatures roamed the woods echoing through the night. Leila's thoughts turned inward, replaying the events of the past few weeks. Every decision, every move she made, weighed heavily on her. It was getting harder to keep the group together, to hold on to the illusion of normalcy. There were cracks forming, little things—tiny moments where the tension between them could no longer be ignored.
Jace, for one, had been acting strangely. And Ellie? She hadn't spoken much lately, her gaze distant, as if she was already somewhere else. But Leila had learned to be wary of those silent moments. People who didn't speak were often the ones you needed to watch the closest.
She had to stay ahead of them all. Because in this world, even the smallest misstep could be fatal.
As the night drew on, Leila's resolve hardened. She wasn't going to lose anyone. Not yet. Not until she had done everything in her power to protect them.
The storm was coming. And when it did, Leila would make sure they were ready.