"Sarah, I'm going to put you down. Get over to Bryan and hide with him!"
The soldier's cold execution had shaken Joel to his core. He wasn't about to leave their fate in military hands—especially not with his daughter's life on the line.
"Okay."
Sarah's spirit had been battered by the night's horrors. She looked pale and drained. But she understood that being carried made her father a bigger target, so she nodded without protest.
Seriously? Nobody asked MY opinion!
Bryan watched the father-daughter exchange with silent exasperation. Still, when Joel set Sarah down, he reached out and pulled her toward him.
The movement jostled her injured leg. Pain lanced through her, but she clenched her jaw and didn't make a sound.
"Take this. I'll get Sarah to those bushes over there!"
Bryan helped Sarah lean against the boulder, then hesitated for just a moment before moving behind Joel. Using the man's body as cover, he slipped his pistol into Joel's back pocket.
"Got it."
Joel felt the weight of the gun and exhaled with relief. Then Bryan's voice came again, barely above a whisper.
"My watch has an alarm function. It's set to go off in three minutes. I'm going to toss it into the grass on the soldier's right. When it does... it should draw his attention."
Joel fell silent. He hadn't expected the kid to think that far ahead. Maybe he'd underestimated him.
"Why are you—"
He turned to ask why Bryan was doing all this, but the space behind the boulder was already empty. Both kids had vanished.
Up on the slope, the soldier was wrestling with his own dilemma. His orders were to eliminate threats in the perimeter—nothing about civilians. With no other choice, he keyed his radio.
"Found some civilians on the outer perimeter. Requesting instructions."
A moment later, the radio crackled to life. A man's voice, cold as ice:
"Shoot them. All of them."
The soldier couldn't believe what he was hearing. This violated every code of conduct, every law—
"Sir, there are children here—"
"Execute your orders!"
"But—"
"Enough, soldier! You follow commands. That's all you need to do!"
The soldier wanted to argue further, but the voice on the other end grew colder with each word. Finally, he could only respond:
"Yes, sir."
I'm sorry.
He raised his rifle, ready to give the civilians a quick death.
But as he lined up the shot, he noticed something wrong. The girl in the man's arms was gone. And the other kid—the boy who'd been standing to the side—had disappeared too.
He'd been so focused on his radio and on Tommy, the one with the gun, that he'd lost track of the others.
"Where the hell did those kids go?!"
His voice turned sharp as he demanded answers from the two men.
But Joel and Tommy had heard every word of that radio exchange. They didn't know exactly what orders had been given, but the soldier's reaction told them everything they needed to know. They weren't saying a damn thing.
Joel counted seconds in his head. He pointed toward the empty space behind the boulder.
"They were tired. I told them to rest over there—"
"Bring them out."
"Sir, my daughter's leg is hurt—"
"I said, BRING THEM OUT!"
The rifle was coming up. Joel's heart pounded. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
Beep!
A sound erupted from the grass on the right. The soldier's instincts took over—he spun and emptied half a magazine into the bushes before his brain caught up.
Too late, he realized his mistake. He swung the rifle back toward the two men, ready to cut them down—
But Joel had been waiting for exactly this moment.
Survival instinct made him faster than he'd ever been in his life. He drew the pistol and fired at the soldier's head.
The shot was rushed. It hit the man's chest instead of his skull.
"Agh!"
The impact knocked the soldier backward. His finger spasmed on the trigger, spraying bullets uselessly into the sky as he fell.
Tommy had been ready too. The moment the watch distracted the soldier, he dove for his discarded gun. Before the soldier even hit the ground, Tommy put a round through his head.
Both brothers exhaled.
Then they heard it—a chorus of shrieks and pounding footsteps from behind.
They spun around. A wave of infected, dozens of them, was pouring toward them like a tide.
"Shit! RUN!"
Tommy grabbed Joel's arm. The gunfire had drawn every infected in the area.
"Sarah's still back there!"
Joel tried to break free, but Tommy held firm.
"You can't go to them now! Sarah's leg is hurt—you can't outrun these things while carrying her! The only way to keep them safe is to lead the horde away!"
Joel wanted to argue, but he knew his brother was right. He turned toward the bushes and shouted:
"Bryan! We're drawing them off! Get Sarah to the highway! We'll meet at the bridge!"
Then he was running, Tommy at his side, heading downhill toward the rough terrain where the infected would struggle to follow.
...
In the dense brush nearby, Bryan clamped his hand over Sarah's mouth.
She understood the danger. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look.
Infected streaked past them, so close Bryan could feel the wind of their passing. His heart hammered against his ribs. One sound—one breath too loud—and they were dead.
Minutes crawled by. The footsteps faded into the distance. Silence returned.
Bryan finally exhaled and released Sarah.
"Get on my back. We need to move. Now."
"But what about my dad? And Uncle Tommy?"
"They'll be fine. We need to get to the bridge."
He crouched down and hoisted her onto his back. She was maybe ninety pounds, but he was only thirteen. Every step was a struggle.
They climbed the slope. Bryan retrieved the dead soldier's assault rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He didn't know how to use it yet, but having it beat not having it.
He also grabbed the soldier's sidearm, several magazines, and his radio. Waste not, want not.
With their heading set toward the bridge, they began the slow trek through the wilderness.
Bryan had learned his lesson. He avoided the easy paths, sticking to rough, overgrown terrain where they'd be harder to spot—by infected or soldiers.
Sweat dripped down his face. Branches clawed at his arms, leaving thin red lines. Every hundred yards or so, he had to stop and rest.
During one break, he finally got a good look at Sarah's injury. With all the chaos, there hadn't been time before.
Rolling up her pant leg, he found... not what he expected. The bloodstain that had looked so alarming was just a scrape. Messy, but superficial.
The real problem was her calf. Dislocated. That's why she couldn't walk.
Great. Nothing I can do about that out here.
"Let's just get to the bridge first."
They pressed on. Without his watch, time lost all meaning. It felt like hours before they crested a final ridge and saw the highway barrier in the distance.
"Finally. Holy shit, finally."
Bryan's eyes actually stung. After everything they'd been through, they'd made it.
"I hope Dad and Uncle Tommy are okay..."
Sarah stared at the bridge, hope and fear warring in her expression.
But just as they approached the highway, the radio on Bryan's belt crackled to life.
"Checkpoint Six, be advised: large infected horde moving toward the bridge. If position is untenable, you are cleared to evacuate. Over."
Bryan's face contorted. He clutched his head and let out a strangled scream at the sky.
"You have GOT to be kidding me!"