"So, the reason you've been delaying your departure isn't just to find your boyfriend, but also to rescue your captured comrades?"
Brian listened quietly as Andrea spoke. Honestly, he was somewhat surprised. He hesitated for a moment, then asked the question on his mind—without waiting for an answer:
"Did your comrades even agree to that?"
"Of course not!"
Andrea let out a bitter smile, as if recalling something painful.
"But in the entire group, only a few of us dared to go out and search for food. Facing other survivors and infected, if we didn't want to leave, they certainly wouldn't have the courage to leave on their own."
There was more she didn't say: because they'd stayed in the town too long, some members had already started complaining. It was her who had convinced them to stay a little longer.
"Hmph! I say we shouldn't have saved them in the first place!"
At this, Leo grew furious.
"If those people were so tired and scared, Ed and Barren wouldn't have gone missing searching for supplies! Theodore and the others wouldn't have been captured! We could've left long ago! And now they just keep complaining nonstop. I say we should've just left those deadweights behind!"
"Enough!"
Hearing Leo go too far, Andrea frowned and sharply cut him off, stopping his reckless words.
Brian studied Andrea carefully. He now had a solid understanding of her character.
Andrea was strong-willed, decisive in a crisis—but when it came to handling her teammates, she was too soft. Emotional, compassionate, protective of the weak.
But because of this very trait, she often dragged down the more capable members. It caused constant internal conflict. What they'd experienced in Peachtree City was a textbook example.
And from what they'd said, there were already people in the group grumbling about staying.
Brian could imagine: if he hadn't shown up, they'd still be stuck. In no time, the group would've split—half wanting to go to the quarantine zone, half wanting to stay and save their comrades. Then, things would've gotten… interesting.
So he asked:
"You weren't the original leader of this group, were you?"
Andrea froze. She stared at Brian, shocked and uncertain.
"How… how do you know that?"
"Because your attitude toward your teammates is far too lenient," Brian explained, leaning back slightly. "With such a long journey, if you'd been the leader from the start, this group would've fallen apart long before reaching halfway."
Not only Andrea and Leo were stunned—Hannah, who had been silent and calm, also looked up in surprise.
"Good God… you're saying exactly what Captain Robert used to say!"
Leo's mouth dropped open. He pointed at Brian, incredulous. Then, fearing he might not understand, he added:
"Robert was our original captain. When he was bitten by an infected during our retreat, he passed leadership to Andrea. And right before he died, he said the exact same thing you just did—he told her she was too soft, too forgiving. He told her she needed to be stricter, tougher, to keep the group disciplined and prevent more disasters."
His voice grew quieter. He covered his mouth, glancing guiltily at Andrea.
But Andrea only lowered her head, bit her lip, and clenched her fists. She was in pain. She knew her leadership style had flaws. But every time she saw their pleading eyes, she couldn't bring herself to be harsh.
Leo's words brought back memories of Captain Robert. Back then, everyone was disciplined, no laziness, no excuses.
Suddenly, Andrea realized: this situation was her fault. Her kindness, her indulgence, had allowed the weak to grow reckless, hurt loyal teammates, held back the capable—and even… cost the life of the man she loved.
"One last question."
Ignoring Andrea's near-breakdown, Brian stared coldly at her, undeterred by Hannah's furious glare, and asked a sharp, cutting question:
"Have you ever considered abandoning your captured comrades and just leaving with the others?"
"Never!"
The moment Brian finished speaking, Andrea snapped her head up. Her eyes, now streaked with red, burned with determination.
"They were captured because they were part of this group! Even if I'm the last one standing, I will never abandon them!"
…
Brian stared into her eyes for a long time. He could see she wasn't lying. He didn't agree with her choice, but he did respect her integrity.
He sat silently, fingers lightly tapping the table. Then he checked his watch—waiting for something.
Andrea, Leo, and Hannah watched him, anxious. They knew the fate of their captured comrades now rested on this man's decision.
—Zzz… Captain, this is Norman.
After a half-hour wait, at exactly 2:00 PM, the radio at Brian's neck crackled to life.
—Go ahead.
—Just saw a group cross the bridge and enter the hotel. I counted twenty people. Adding them to those already inside, I estimate no more than twenty-five. Everyone's armed, though one in three only has a handgun.
—Copy. Keep observing. If more arrive, report immediately.
—Understood.
Brian switched off the radio, pulled a flask from his jacket, and took a small sip. His mind raced.
The situation: 5 vs. 25. Both sides had firearms. On the surface, they were outnumbered. But in reality, twenty-five wasn't overwhelming. And the enemy didn't know they'd been exposed. They didn't know their plan had been discovered.
With the element of surprise, and facing untrained civilians… their odds of victory were nearly 90%.
Across from him, Andrea, Leo, and Hannah all turned to Brian, hope in their eyes. They couldn't hear the radio, but they knew he'd contacted someone.
"He does have teammates!"
Andrea's eyes lit up. She'd suspected he was part of a quarantine zone convoy—that's why she'd revealed everything. Now, seeing it confirmed, she realized her guess was right. And judging by his authority, he might even be high-ranking.
"I'll help you rescue your comrades."
Brian stood up, giving them a clear answer under their hopeful gazes. Since he'd already decided to strike the local survivor group, the supplies at their base were too valuable to leave behind. Rescuing the prisoners was just a bonus.
"No need to thank me."
He raised a hand, stopping Andrea before she could speak.
"Do you know where the survivor group's camp is?"
Surprised by the sudden question, Andrea hesitated, then nodded firmly.
"Of course. It's inside a golf course."
Brian nodded.
"Go back now. Bring everyone who can fight. Meet there tonight."
He pulled a radio from his backpack and tossed it to them.
"I'll contact you when it's time."
"That's it?"
Andrea frowned, clearly unsatisfied.
"Hey, if you have a plan for tonight, we can help!"
"Unnecessary."
Brian didn't hesitate.
"We don't have full trust yet. Better to minimize risks. And… my name's Brian."
Without another word, he turned and strode away. Before the three could react, he was gone.
Minutes later, Brian reappeared on the rooftop where he'd hidden earlier. He picked up the two fuel cans and continued on.
He entered a corner beer bar, dumped out all the expired beer bottles.
Then he filled them with gasoline, sealed the necks with rags—making improvised Molotov cocktails. One of his favorite thrown weapons. Unlike grenades, they didn't make loud explosions.
Looking at the row of firebombs, Brian's eyes gleamed.
Tonight's fire… couldn't be avoided.