ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ's ʙᴀsᴇ ᴡᴀs ʀᴀɪᴅᴇᴅ.
7:45 ᴀᴍ
The school had once been a place of learning, of laughter and childhood innocence. Now it was just another tombstone in a world full of them. The classrooms were stripped bare, their desks overturned and their chalkboards cracked. The gymnasium had become a makeshift shelter for the homeless and the desperate, its floor covered in filthy blankets and the remnants of long-dead fires. The smell of decay hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder that even the most sacred spaces had been defiled by the apocalypse.
Katie woke with a start, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife she kept tucked in her boot. The school was silent, save for the soft breathing of her companions and the distant sound of wind rattling through broken windows. She forced herself to relax, slowly releasing the tension in her shoulders.
"Easy," a voice whispered from the darkness. "It's just me."
Katie turned to see Kyle crouched beside her, his face illuminated by the dim light filtering through the window. He looked exhausted, dark circles ringing his eyes and a five o'clock shadow darkening his jaw. The weight of leadership had aged him beyond his seventeen years.
"How long was I out?" Katie asked, her voice hoarse.
"A few hours," Kyle said. "You needed the rest."
"What about you? Have you slept at all?"
Kyle's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. "Sleep is for the dead, Miller. You know that."
"That's a stupid saying," Katie said, sitting up and stretching her aching limbs. "The dead don't sleep. They just rot and try to eat people."
"Fair point," Kyle conceded. "But you know what I mean."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night. Outside, a zombie moaned somewhere in the distance, its plaintive cry a familiar lullaby in this broken world.
"We're going to make it to Sanctuary," Kyle said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know we will."
"You sound so sure."
"I have to be," Kyle said. "If I'm not, then what's the point? We're all just going through the motions, pretending like any of this matters. But it does matter, Katie. We matter. The people we've lost, the people we're trying to protect—they matter. So I have to believe we can make it."
Katie didn't have an answer for that. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust in his certainty. But she'd learned long ago that hope was a dangerous thing, a luxury that survivors couldn't afford.
"I should check on Tommy," she said, rising to her feet.
"He's fine," Kyle assured her. "He's been sleeping like the dead—sorry, bad choice of words. He's been sleeping soundly."
Katie smiled despite herself. "I'll be right back."
She made her way through the darkened hallways, her footsteps echoing in the silence. The school was a maze of corridors and classrooms, each one filled with the ghosts of the past. She could almost hear the echoes of children's laughter, the chatter of students between classes, the drone of teachers lecturing about subjects that no longer mattered.
Tommy was curled up in a corner of what had once been the principal's office, his small body wrapped in a tattered blanket. Dorthy lay beside him, her thumb in her mouth and her eyes fluttering in her sleep. Rose was keeping watch over them, her expression tight with exhaustion.
"Any trouble?" Katie asked, taking a seat beside her.
"Nothing I couldn't handle," Rose said, her voice weary. "A couple of stragglers wandered too close, but they didn't see us. I think they were just following the smell."
"Lovely," Katie muttered. "We've become the ones who smell like meat."
"Better than being the ones who are meat," Rose said. She hesitated for a moment, then added, "I've been thinking about what Keith said. About Sanctuary."
"What about it?"
"It sounds too good to be true," Rose admitted. "A safe place for refugees, with food and shelter and protection? That's the kind of thing that gets people killed."