"Damn it, I'll get those two brats sooner or later..." Kenneth muttered, leaning back on the couch in the lakeside cottage, nursing the dull ache in the back of his head. He couldn't stop cursing Brian and Sarah, who had vanished without a trace.
His wife, Kathy, sat silently beside him, tending to his injury. When Kenneth had stumbled back, claiming the kids had ambushed him from behind and stolen his pistol, everyone—except the kids—knew the real reason he had gone out.
But when Kathy heard about the missing pistol, a wave of uncontrollable resentment washed over her. She resented her husband's incompetence and the fact that Brian and Sarah had taken the gun. She knew that in these chaotic times, a gun was the only thing that could protect her children.
"Car coming, be on guard!" Taylor's shout from outside made both of them jolt upright. They exchanged a glance, quickly grabbed whatever weapons they could find, and rushed outside.
Outside the House.
Taylor stood by the fence, his face tense as he watched the approaching vehicle. His heart pounded with anxiety. He glanced at his wife, who was shielding their children, and then at the pistol in his hand. Kenneth's gun was gone, and this place now had only one pistol.
If the newcomers had ill intentions, one gun would hardly be enough to protect his family.
"What's going on? Who's coming?" Kenneth and Kathy burst out of the house, weapons in hand. They rushed to the fence and saw the vehicle approaching. Their faces fell as they realized it was a military truck.
As the truck drew closer, the group's anxiety turned to excitement. They saw that it was indeed a military vehicle.
"It's the army! They're here to rescue us!" Kenneth shouted in relief, waving his arms frantically at the truck. The others felt a sense of deliverance. Taylor turned and hugged his crying wife, while Kathy's face lit up with joy. Even Bart and Angela seemed to catch the positive energy, smiling broadly.
A few minutes later, the truck pulled up outside the fence. A dozen fully armed soldiers jumped out of the back, and a man in combat gear stepped out of the passenger seat. He walked up to the group and announced, "We're from the National Disaster Relief Task Force. Are there any other survivors nearby?"
"No, no, sir. We're the only ones here. Are you taking us to a safe place?" Kenneth eagerly stepped forward, ingratiating himself and asking about their next destination.
"Rest assured, as long as you follow orders, we'll take you to a very safe location," the man replied, his face showing a flicker of disgust at Kenneth's sycophantic demeanor. Then, as if remembering something, a mocking smile crossed his lips. "But first, we need to search you and confiscate any weapons you have."
The group, though slightly resentful, was eager to leave and reluctantly let the soldiers pat them down. After a moment, one of the soldiers reported, "Sir, they only have one pistol, no other dangerous items."
"Very well," the man nodded, but before he could continue, Kenneth stepped forward again, clasping his hands together. "Sir, can we get going now?"
"Get going?" The man's face twisted in displeasure, and he sneered, "Why don't I send you on your way first?"
With that, he pulled out his pistol and, without hesitation, shot Kenneth in the head. The bullet pierced his skull, leaving a deep, bloody hole. Kenneth fell backward, lifeless.
The others were stunned, their minds reeling in disbelief. The man with the pistol seemed to have dropped from heaven to hell in an instant, his eyes filled with terror.
"What the hell are you doing?" Kenneth's wife, Kathy, was the first to react. She looked at her husband's lifeless body and shouted at the man in disbelief.
"Eliminate them," the man ignored Kathy's question and turned to walk back to the truck's passenger seat.
As he turned away, the soldiers raised their rifles. Despite the pleas and questions from the survivors, the soldiers mercilessly opened fire, their eyes cold and unfeeling, even as they shot women and children. In a matter of moments, the people who had been alive just seconds ago were now lifeless bodies on the ground, their blood pooling and creating a heavy, metallic scent in the air.
After confirming that everyone was dead, the soldiers returned to the truck, which slowly turned around and drove back the way it had come, disappearing over the horizon.
Inside the Warehouse.
Brian wiped the sweat from his brow as he tossed the last infected body outside the warehouse. He looked at the pile of corpses, placed his hands on his hips, and exhaled deeply. It was nearly dusk, and time was running out. He glanced around and then turned back inside.
In the office, the desk had been moved aside to reveal a shallow compartment in the floor. Sarah was squatting beside it, pulling out supplies one by one. Brian saw that there was plenty of food, a pistol, ammunition, and even a first-aid kit. He was pleasantly surprised. "I didn't expect Ford to leave so much stuff. I wonder what his relationship with Morris was."
"Who cares?" Sarah didn't mind their relationship. She looked at the pile of supplies and excitedly spread her arms, cheering, "Now all this is ours!"
Seeing her joy, Brian couldn't help but smile. "Alright, you take care of that. I'm going to check out the car."
He left the office and headed to the northwest corner of the warehouse. The car was parked strategically, close to the side of the building. It was positioned so that it could easily reach the door with just a turn, and it was shielded on both sides. Plus, the area was already dimly lit, making it hard to spot, not to mention the lock on the wheel.
Brian squatted down beside the car, entered the code, and unlocked the wheel lock. He opened the driver's door and got in. It had been a while since he had driven in this world, and they had a long journey ahead tomorrow, so he wanted to familiarize himself with the vehicle.
He started the car and found the gas tank was full. After checking everything else and finding no issues, he pressed the clutch and brake, turned the steering wheel, and drove the car out of the warehouse.
He drove around the pile of junked cars a few times. As the sky darkened, he backed the car into the warehouse and parked it by the door. This way, they could drive out directly when they left tomorrow. He helped Sarah pack the supplies into cardboard boxes from the shelves and loaded them into the back of the car.
They worked late into the night. Although there was a room to rest in the warehouse, Brian and Sarah decided to move the mattress next to the car and sleep there, just in case something else happened. It was mid-September, and the weather was getting cooler. Even though the warehouse was mostly enclosed, the cold drafts seeping through the gaps made them shiver.
Feeling Sarah shiver beside him, Brian sat up and covered her with the blanket they were sharing. Then he lay back down and closed his eyes.
But as soon as he did, Sarah shifted. She turned over, straightened his arm, and pillowed her head on it. She curled up against him and pulled the blanket over both of them.
Brian froze. He had never been this close to a girl before and didn't know what to do. But gradually, listening to Sarah's steady breathing, he relaxed. Exhausted from the day's work, he couldn't fight off sleep for long. Their breathing synchronized, and they both drifted off to sleep.