Chapter 6: The Test
The warehouse smelled of mildew and rust, but there was a strange sense of comfort in the silence that hung in the air. Ethan stood by the door, his nerves still on edge as he watched Leah exchange a few quiet words with the others.
They didn't speak much to him—just a few nods and glances, as if sizing him up. Ethan had no experience with this kind of group dynamic, and the way they eyed him made him feel like an outsider. He couldn't blame them. They were survivors, too. Trust was earned, not given.
Leah returned to his side after a few moments, her face unreadable. She gestured to a corner of the warehouse where an old mattress lay against the wall.
"Sit. Get comfortable," she said, her voice more businesslike now. "You're going to need rest if you want to keep up."
Ethan nodded and moved toward the corner she indicated. He lowered himself to the mattress, still feeling like an intruder in this small, wary community. He glanced around, noting the makeshift barricades along the walls, the locked crates, and the rifle leaning against the wall near the group of survivors.
The air was tense. Every creak of the floorboards made Ethan jump, and every glance from the others made his skin crawl. He didn't know what he had expected, but this wasn't it.
The group remained silent for a while, as if waiting for someone to speak up. Finally, one of the men, a tall figure with a scruffy beard and a bandage wrapped around his leg, stood up and approached Leah.
"You trust him?" he asked, his voice gruff.
Leah didn't immediately answer, her gaze shifting between Ethan and the man. "For now," she said simply. "He hasn't shown anything that makes me think he's a threat."
The man narrowed his eyes, sizing up Ethan with a hard stare. "You don't know him. You don't know if he's one of those…" He trailed off, his voice growing quieter. "One of them."
Ethan stiffened at the mention of the infected, but Leah's quick response put him on edge even more.
"I'll be the judge of that," she said, her tone final. "But if he does anything suspicious, we'll deal with it."
The man didn't argue. He turned back to the group, muttering something under his breath. Leah stepped away, her eyes meeting Ethan's for a brief moment before she walked toward the far side of the warehouse.
Ethan was left alone with the survivors. They all watched him—some with wary curiosity, others with distrust. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. There was a tension in the room that made him want to shrink into the corner, to disappear.
But he couldn't.
He had to prove he was more than just another scared person trying to survive.
The woman sitting near the window, who had been silent until now, spoke up. Her voice was calm, almost soothing, but there was something sharp beneath it.
"If you want to stay here, you'll have to pull your weight," she said, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. "We don't have room for dead weight."
Ethan nodded quickly, his voice coming out shaky. "I can… I can help."
She didn't seem convinced. She raised an eyebrow. "You've never killed before, have you?"
Ethan froze.
The question cut through him like a blade. It wasn't even a judgment—it was just a statement. She could see it.
"No," Ethan admitted, his voice quiet. "I've never…" He stopped, swallowing hard. "But I can learn. I've got to."
The woman studied him for a moment, then sighed. "You'd better. Because out there," she gestured toward the door, "it's a different world now. And if you want to make it, you'll have to be willing to do things you've never imagined."
Ethan nodded again, the weight of her words sinking in. He wasn't sure he was ready, but there was no going back now.
The woman stood up and walked over to the small stack of supplies in the corner, pulling out a rusty crowbar and handing it to him.
"Take this," she said. "You'll need it when you go out. That's the first test. Prove you can hold your own."
Ethan took the crowbar from her, his hands trembling slightly. He hadn't held a weapon before. He had always been the one people pushed around, the one too weak, too slow. But that wasn't him anymore. It couldn't be.
Leah returned to the group then, her face serious. "Get ready," she said. "We're going out. We've spotted some supplies a few blocks away, and it's either go now or wait until it gets worse."
The woman with the crowbar gave Ethan a look, a silent challenge, before nodding toward the door.
Ethan's pulse quickened. This was it. His test.
He wasn't sure if he was ready, but he couldn't back down.
He stood up, gripping the crowbar tightly in his hands, and followed Leah and the others toward the door.
The world outside was waiting, and Ethan had no choice but to face it head-on.