Hearing the voice from the radio, Andrea turned and looked toward the distant flicker of firelight. At that distance, the radio shouldn't have been able to reach her… unless he was nearby.
—…Brian?
—Yes, it's me.
—Are you near me?
After confirming his identity, Andrea pressed urgently:
—I saw fire to the north. What's going on?
—Huh. You could see it from that far? —Brian chuckled softly over the radio—. Yeah, I saw it. I set that fire. Cleared up some trouble. Right now, it should be fully engulfed.
Hearing that he'd "cleared up some trouble," Andrea recalled their earlier analysis and the missing people from the golf course.
—Did you kill all the survivors?
—All of them? No. I left three alive.
Brian didn't seem surprised by the question, as if he'd expected her to figure it out.
—Alright, enough small talk. You can move out now.
—M-move out? What do you mean? —Andrea frowned, confused.
—You'll see. Just go!
But Brian didn't answer. He repeated the order and then cut the transmission.
Andrea stared at the radio, then looked up at the other four, all equally bewildered. No one knew what to do.
—Boom!
In that moment of hesitation, a loud explosion echoed nearby. In the silent night, the sound was sharp, deafening.
—A sniper rifle! —Coben recognized it instantly, shouting—. Look over there!
While the others searched for the shooter, Darcey, who hadn't stopped watching the golf course, reported:
—At the guard post! One of the guards has been killed!
Through his binoculars, he saw a man with a gun lying in a pool of blood, a hole in his head. Next to him, another guard crouched, yelling toward the inside of the compound.
—Bang!
Another shot. The second guard, as if struck by an invisible force, arched backward, clutching his chest. Blood poured from his mouth. Within seconds, he stopped moving.
—Damn it!
Darcey cursed. The bullet had pierced the cover!
Then, two bright lights appeared on the nearby street, illuminating the darkness. A modified military truck slowly emerged, drawing everyone's attention.
—Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!
Even from a distance, those on the rooftop could clearly hear the engine's roar. The truck accelerated, racing straight toward the golf course entrance.
—Open fire! Stop it!
—Rat-tat-tat!
The defenders inside saw the speeding truck. They knew what was coming. One shouted, raised his rifle, and opened fire.
The truck zigzagged, dodging bullets. Some still hit the chassis, sending bright sparks flying.
—Bang!
But before the guards could fire again, the sniper struck once more. A clean shot. The shooter dropped, dead instantly.
The two remaining guards understood: there was a sniper outside. Terrified, they shrank behind the cover, trembling.
—Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!
—Crash!
With no more gunfire, the truck stopped dodging. The driver floored the accelerator and rammed the heavy iron gate. With a metallic crash, the gate burst open.
Andrea and the others on the roof stared, stunned. From the first shot to the truck's entry, it had all happened too fast.
—Go! We're going too!
Unlike the others, Coben grinned with excitement. He ran down the stairs, trembling with emotion at the thought of rescuing his wife.
Golf Course
—Aaah!
As soon as he opened the door, Brian heard screams of terror. He frowned, looked at the others getting out of the truck, and gave orders:
—Wade, take out the two still hiding in the guard post.
—Kim, you said the leader revealed his stash? Bring it all. I want to see what he's hiding.
—Mike, Elton: round up everyone. They're making too much noise. Shut them up. Try not to hurt them… but if they resist, you're authorized to defend yourselves.
—Yes, sir!
Each split off in different directions.
Brian yawned, stretched his arms, and looked south toward the farming area. He walked over, inspecting the neatly divided plots. Cabbage, cucumbers, corn—everything green and fresh. He even felt a pang of hunger.
—Shhh!
Hasty footsteps. He turned. Five figures appeared. Leading them—Andrea.
—Well, you're late. I've already finished.
Andrea rushed forward, anxious:
—Did you find our people?
—So impatient? —Brian rolled his eyes, pulled a cucumber from the ground, bit into it, and chewed.
Behind him, Coben was about to run toward the buildings.
—Andrea, you talk. I'll go look.
—If you don't want to die, don't go.
Brian stopped him.
—My soldiers are clearing that area. They don't know you. You're armed. If they see you, they won't talk. They'll shoot. Stay with me.
He took another bite of cucumber, slapped Coben on the shoulder, and walked deeper into the compound.
When they reached the buildings, about fifty survivors were already kneeling with hands on their heads. Mike guarded them.
Behind, the military truck rolled in. Wade dragged two strong men, tied up. The two cargo trucks, having finished their task, entered too. Norman stepped down, followed by the quarantine zone civilians.
Mike approached Brian:
—Captain, 48 survivors. Three dead at the post, two captured. Nine missing. Elton's tracking them.
—Good. Tell Elton if they've escaped, don't waste time chasing.
Brian looked at the crowd. Mostly elders, women, and children. Few young adults. All trembling, fear in their eyes… but also deep, hidden hatred.
Brian smiled. In this world, there's no "right" or "wrong." Only perspective. The winner is the hero. The loser, the villain.
—Mike, where are the prisoners held?
—Ah, I just asked. In the basement of that building —he pointed to a structure with a triangular roof—. That one.
—Norman, come with me.
Brian nodded, called Norman—leaning on the truck—and with Andrea and the others, headed toward the building.