With keys in hand, the two wasted no time. They hurried out of the office, grabbed a random key fob from the box, and pressed the button. Two sharp chirps led them to the right vehicle.
Bryan told Sarah to keep watch while he worked. He had no idea why all the keys had been gathered together, but based on where they'd been stored, whoever had been staying here would likely return. They needed to move fast.
He opened the driver's door and slid inside, but no matter what he tried, the engine wouldn't turn over. A glance at the dashboard told him why—the fuel gauge was sitting on empty.
"Damn it—the tank's dry!"
He jumped out and tried the other keys, one by one. Every single car had an empty tank. He stared in disbelief.
So that's why all the keys were in one place. Someone had siphoned every last drop of gas from these vehicles. But why? There was a gas station right across the road.
Bryan sighed and stepped out of the car. "Sarah, I'm gonna grab some gas from the station. You stay—"
He stopped mid-sentence. Turning around, he found Sarah with her hands raised high. Behind her stood a blonde girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, aiming a shotgun at Sarah's back.
His heart lurched. His hand shot toward the pistol at his waist—
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, kid. You'll regret it."
A cold voice from behind froze him in place. He suddenly understood—he'd let his guard down.
With no other choice, he kept still. He didn't know if the person behind him was bluffing, but judging by the shotgun the girl in front was holding, whoever was behind him was probably armed too. In America, getting your hands on a gun was never difficult.
Bryan wasn't about to gamble with his life. He raised his hands slowly. "We're just passing through. Please don't hurt us."
"Step back. Move to that open area over there. Face me."
The voice behind him gave no response to his plea—just instructions.
No choice. Bryan and Sarah exchanged a glance, then slowly backed away, hands still raised, until they reached an open section of the parking lot.
The figure who'd been behind Bryan finally came into view: a man in his mid-thirties wearing a cowboy hat and holding a hunting rifle. He spoke to the blonde girl: "Kelly, search them."
"Okay."
The girl—Kelly—slung her shotgun over her shoulder and approached. She patted them down, confiscating their weapons, and then checked their bodies for bite marks.
When she noticed the bandages wrapped around Bryan's hands, she tensed. "What happened to your hands?"
Bryan could guess what she was worried about. "Glass cuts. From broken windows."
Kelly relaxed slightly but still peeled back the edge of the bandage to check. Once she'd confirmed the wounds, she gathered everything and returned to the man's side. "All clear. Got their stuff here. No bite marks."
The man smiled warmly and ruffled his daughter's hair. Then he looked at Bryan and Sarah, touching the brim of his cowboy hat apologetically. "Sorry about that, kids. I know this wasn't right, but... we've been through a lot these past few days. I hope you understand."
He set their confiscated weapons on a nearby car, then lowered his own rifle—a gesture of peace.
"Name's Osborne. This is my daughter, Kelly. Don't worry—we're not going to hurt you. I saw you come off the highway. Where'd you come from?"
Seeing that the man genuinely didn't seem intent on harming them, Bryan let out a quiet breath of relief. He studied the man who called himself Osborne and answered carefully: "I'm Bryan. This is Sarah. We escaped from Austin and we're trying to get to Dallas. We stopped here because our car gave out."
"Escaped from Austin?"
Osborne's brow furrowed. He glanced toward the bullet-riddled wreck parked down the road, then back at Bryan. "And those bullet holes in your car?"
"..."
Bryan hesitated. Should he tell this stranger the truth, or make something up? After a moment, he decided honesty was the better choice.
"There's military near Austin. They've set up blockades on the highway—they're planning to purge the entire infection zone. We broke through before they finished setting up. The bullet holes are from their rifles."
"What?" Osborne and Kelly both froze, staring at each other in disbelief.
Seeing their expressions, Bryan knew they didn't believe him. So he told them everything—what had happened when the outbreak first began, the screams they'd heard that morning, how they'd crashed through the checkpoint, and the operation log he'd found by accident.
Even after hearing the full account, Osborne looked unconvinced. He'd served as a lieutenant in the Army. As a former soldier who'd dedicated himself to this country, he found it hard to accept what this boy was telling him. "Where's this log you mentioned?"
Bryan blinked, then pointed at their car. "In the car. You can go check for yourself."
"Kelly, go get it!"
The words had barely left Osborne's mouth when he realized his daughter was already sprinting toward the vehicle. He shook his head with a wry smile.
A moment later, Kelly came bouncing back with the clipboard.
"If you run off like that again without telling me, I'm going to tan your hide."
Taking the clipboard from her, Osborne pretended to scold her, raising his hand as if to swat her backside.
"Bleh—" Kelly stuck out her tongue and made a face, dancing out of reach.
Sarah watched the father-daughter interaction with undisguised longing. But thinking of her own father, her expression quickly dimmed.
Bryan noticed. He moved to her side and gently placed a hand on her back, hoping to offer some comfort.
Osborne quietly observed the two children. Slowly, his wariness began to fade.
He looked down at the operation log in his hands. The words "Indiscriminate cleansing of infection zone" made his face go pale.
If he'd been skeptical before, he was now fully convinced. He knew these military forms all too well. He couldn't fathom why the government would issue such an insane order.
Face grim, he tucked the log away. He forced himself to set aside these thoughts for now—they were still in the middle of an infection zone, after all. Knowing about this changed nothing when he was powerless to act. He needed to get this information to his old Army contacts as soon as possible.
Refocusing on the children in front of him, he picked up their weapons and walked over to Bryan.
From their conversation, he could tell this was a sharp, decisive kid. And from the subtle way Bryan's body had positioned itself throughout—always ready to shield the girl beside him—it was clear he was deeply protective of her.
Osborne had always respected people with that quality. He was willing to trust them. In times like these, trusting a stranger was one of the hardest things to do—even when that stranger was just a kid.
He handed the weapons back. "I'm sorry. We ran into some bad people a few days ago, so we've been wary of strangers. I apologize for how we treated you."
"No problem. I understand."
Bryan accepted his weapons with quiet relief. He meant it—if their positions had been reversed, he might have done the same thing.
That said, even after confirming someone wasn't dangerous, he wasn't sure he'd actually return their weapons. But he was curious why Osborne had been so cautious about two kids.
Osborne smiled at the boy, then gestured toward the RV in the corner. "What you told me is extremely important information. We're actually headed to Dallas ourselves. What do you say—want to travel together?"
"Huh?"
Bryan was caught off guard. You were just pointing a gun at me. Aren't you worried I'll try to get revenge?
But then he reconsidered. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Though the remaining journey was only a few hours, who knew what they might encounter? After a brief hesitation, he nodded and accepted the offer.