Since the government had cut off all civilian internet access, television and radio had become the only ways for citizens to receive outside information. The female anchor's face was grave as she delivered the day's major news:
"According to sources within the World Health Organization, the latest vaccine trial has been confirmed a failure!"
"The bureaucratic government has lost the ability to contain the infection zones. They've dug massive burial pits on the outskirts of major cities and are—inhumanely—incinerating both the living infected and the dead together!"
"..."
After several major headlines, the anchor paused, her expression shifting to one of grief and fury as she addressed the camera:
"Fellow citizens, what you're about to see was filmed by our reporters at great personal risk. These are real events occurring inside the infection zones."
The footage cut to grainy video: soldiers with assault rifles opening fire on infected charging toward them. After eliminating the threats, a dozen or so survivors emerged from a nearby building. Though the image was blurry, their body language showed obvious relief and excitement.
A soldier approached and confiscated their weapons. Just when it seemed the survivors would be escorted to safety, something happened that left everyone watching in stunned disbelief.
The moment the first soldier stepped away, the remaining soldiers raised their rifles without hesitation and opened fire on the unarmed civilians. In seconds, all of them lay dead—men, women, elderly, children. None were spared.
More footage followed: soldiers gunning down survivors in other infection zones, interviews with people who'd escaped the slaughter, their voices raw with condemnation and rage at the government's brutality.
Bryan even recognized the lakeside cabin they'd stayed in—and the bodies of Angela and Barton lying on the ground.
"Those bastards! What the hell are they doing?!" The crowd around them erupted in fury, curses flying from every direction.
The broadcast cut back to the anchor. She held up her papers, her voice rising to a near-scream:
"Everything you've seen was ordered by our government bureaucrats! They secretly authorized an 'indiscriminate cleansing' protocol. Everyone in the infection zones—infected or not—is being executed. They're trying to contain this disaster through mass murder!"
"My fellow citizens, this infection is completely out of control! They've been lying to us! We can't keep blindly waiting for a vaccine that will never come! There's no more time! We cannot let these corrupt officials continue running our country! We need people with real capability to lead us—that's the only hope for saving our nation—"
BANG!
The broadcast was interrupted by the sound of a door being kicked in. The camera suddenly flipped 180 degrees, as if knocked over.
Soldiers appeared on screen. They rushed forward and seized the anchor. One of them stepped in front of her and spoke harshly: "Ma'am, you're under arrest for fabricating and deliberately spreading false information intended to cause public panic. You'll need to come with us—"
The moment he finished speaking, the screen went black. Signal lost.
After the broadcast cut out, survivor camps across the nation fell into a brief, stunned silence. But within moments, Dallas erupted like a pot boiling over.
Until now, both long-time residents and refugees from the infection zones had believed this terrifying outbreak would be like other diseases they'd lived through—temporary, eventually conquered.
But today, everything had been laid bare. They knew what the government had done. And when they learned the vaccine had failed... that's when the true terror of death and the despair of the apocalypse finally sank in.
What a blatant conspiracy...
Bryan held Sarah in his arms as she sobbed—the sight of Angela and Barton's bodies had broken her completely. Looking at the chaos erupting around them, he sighed quietly.
Now he finally understood why those soldiers hadn't pursued them after they'd broken through the checkpoint near Austin. It wasn't that they couldn't chase them. Someone had deliberately let them go.
The anchor's constant use of the word "bureaucrats." The flood of footage showing soldiers massacring survivors. The testimonies of people who'd escaped. The perfectly-timed signal cutoff the moment the anchor was arrested...
Viewed from an outside perspective, this whole thing was an orchestrated conspiracy—a scheme to channel public fury, to use the pressure of outrage to strip power from the White House and seize control.
But Bryan knew that throughout history, public condemnation alone had never truly threatened those in power. Unless... the military was in on it too...
Whatever. Why am I even thinking about this? It's not my problem.
He smiled bitterly, shaking his head as he gently rubbed Sarah's back. Around them, people whispered in clusters, wept openly, or stared blankly into space with hollow eyes. Even children who'd been playing happily that morning now huddled silently in their families' arms.
He turned to Osborne and Kelly, who both wore troubled expressions, and spoke quietly: "This isn't the time to overthink things. The next few days are going to be rough in Dallas. We should make sure no one knows how many supplies we have—otherwise people might get ideas."
Osborne nodded, understanding immediately what kind of panic the broadcast would cause. He felt oddly grateful that he hadn't managed to contact his Army buddy this morning—and grateful that the reporter had exposed everything first. If he'd reported what he knew and then this came out, he'd probably be in custody right now.
They'd been in Dallas less than a day, and already everything had gone to hell. Who knew what else was coming?
He agreed with Bryan's assessment and led Kelly back into the RV to reorganize their supplies, hiding everything in less obvious spots where outsiders couldn't see.
Their neighbor Antoine was clearly no fool either. The moment the broadcast cut off, he'd retreated into his own RV and locked the door, doing who-knew-what inside.
Throughout the afternoon, the entire camp seemed to receive some invisible signal. Bryan watched as people around the tents and RVs began fashioning weapons and tools from scavenged materials.
He noticed the pattern quickly and told Sarah to get back in the RV. Then he stood up and scanned the area, eyes moving between tents and vehicles. He spotted several people dressed in black moving from shelter to shelter, apparently trying to convince people to join them in something.
Bryan immediately reported this to Osborne. He didn't know what they were planning, but it was better to give a heads-up now than be caught off guard later.
Before long, he saw a bald man in black approaching their section of the camp. Bryan pretended not to notice and discreetly knocked on the RV door.
"Hey kid, your parents around?" The bald man stopped beside the RV. Seeing only a child there, he scratched his shiny head and forced a friendly smile.
Before Bryan could answer, Osborne opened the door, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead and feigning curiosity. "Can I help you?"
Seeing an adult emerge, Bryan stepped back. Some things weren't for a "kid" to handle—grown-ups needed to deal with this.
The bald man didn't waste time. "Look, you saw the news, right? Those bureaucrat bastards don't give a damn about our lives. I say we can't just sit around waiting anymore. We need to start looking out for ourselves. See everyone around here? They're already making weapons. Tomorrow, we're going to raid for supplies—stockpile as much food as we can. If you want in, better start getting ready."
Having said his piece, the man turned and headed toward the next RV. He clearly didn't care whether they joined or not—just delivering the message.
Watching him go, Osborne's brow furrowed deeply. He turned to Bryan. "Looks like you were right. The next few days are going to be chaos."
"Forget about them." Bryan shrugged. "I'd rather wait and see what the government does next. That'll determine how humanity survives going forward."