The outbreak of the epidemic became even more widespread, more massive. People, like cockroaches, tried to hide in any holes, under the ground, just to catch a chance to survive. No, there was no life on this earth anymore. Life was too big a word. Survive, yes, it was suitable.

Matt, leading a detachment, helped those who needed that help. Catching refugees, the man worked on schemes and plans, just to be in the mood. It was impossible to help everyone, but it seemed like a possible task to save at least the "minimum".

And, during the raid on another wasteland, Matt and his team still stocked up on a small amount of supplies, so that the camp would not seem so empty, and the people there would not starve to death.

But, as always, there were difficulties on the way. The man, holding the machine gun tightly in his fingers, listened to the echoing sounds, frowning. They were clearly not alone here. "The bastards?" Matt asked in a whisper, referring to the potential threat posed by the infected.

Pricking up his ears, the man listened carefully, recognizing another threat, but these sounds were more human-like than the sounds that the freaks usually made.

As he approached the source of the sound, Matt pursed his lips, feeling only a sense of discipline and unease. However, the latter was a vague sensation. The sound continued, making him even more uneasy. Finally, he found the source and exhaled, lowering the barrel of his gun. He examined the object in front of him. But to put it simply, it was an ordinary girl.

The man raised his finger to his ear, feeling for the micro-earpiece. “There’s a civilian here. A girl in her twenties.” He muttered, keeping his eyes on her, even examining her for any injuries, infections, or wounds. It was a precautionary measure, nothing more.