Episode 10 – "Van Reap"
The farmhouse sits under a blood-red dawn, quiet but tense. The survivors stir, preparing for another day in the apocalypse—but John is already awake. Not just awake, alert, scanning the horizon. The unending nightmare never sleeps, and neither does he.
Outside, a distant rumble grows louder. The ground vibrates with the march of a horde—the dreaded Fallouts. Armed, armored, relentless. The survivors glance at John. Some fear him. Some admire him. All know one truth: he is their only chance.
John cracks his knuckles, eyes cold and calculating. He walks the perimeter of the farmhouse, noting every weak point, every escape route, every trap he's set. This is no longer about survival—it's about legend.
"Ready yourselves," he calls, voice carrying over the wind. No fear. No hesitation. Just certainty.
The horde breaks the tree line. Screams, growls, and the stench of decay fill the air. Team A—shooters—open fire, bullets ripping through shamblers, buying Team B—the melee squad—time.
John moves like a phantom. Colt Python in hand, knives flashing, revolver thunderous in rhythm. He's everywhere at once, a whirlwind of destruction. Every shot, every stab, precise and unhesitating. The survivors can only follow, barely keeping pace.
Amid the chaos, John pauses briefly—vision flashes: his wife, his son, the dungeon, the war. Anger, grief, and rage coalesce. He screams into the wind, a sound both human and monstrous.
A massive Fallout lunges toward Kelsey and the children. John intercepts with effortless brutality, cutting the creature down before it reaches them. The survivors watch in stunned silence. Their fear shifts to awe… and a creeping terror.
Bob whispers, barely audible:"He… he's a legend."
John holsters his revolver, wipes blood from his hands, and scans the battlefield. No emotion. Only focus."We survive," he says, voice low. "And we fight."
The horde is pushed back. The farmhouse stands, battered but unbroken. The survivors, shaken and bloodied, regroup inside. For the first time, John allows himself a moment of solitude, lighting a cigarette. Smoke curls in the rising sun.
He opens his journal, adding the final entry for the season:
The legend grows. They call me Van Reap. They do not know the half of it. The past is dead. The family is dead. But those who follow… they survive. I am the nightmare they whisper about. And when the Fallouts come again, they will remember my name.
He closes the journal. The camera—or the reader's eyes—linger on John standing in the doorway, revolver in hand, shadow long across the broken threshold. Alone, unyielding, unstoppable. The season ends not with a resolution, but with a promise: the nightmare is far from over.