Over the following days, Bryan took Sarah and Kelly on morning runs, enduring the strange looks from passersby.
Sometimes they stopped by Armand's apartment. The old man had been a combat medic, and his daughter June was an experienced nurse. It was a perfect opportunity to learn about first aid and basic medical care.
Bryan wasn't comfortable taking their help for free, so each visit he brought food—a form of payment, in a way.
He varied their running routes each day, different streets and neighborhoods. Along the way, he observed the pharmacies, looking for any way to slip inside unnoticed.
Once, they actually discovered an inconspicuous hole beside one of the pharmacies—a way to bypass the guards at the entrance and get inside quietly. They were planning their infiltration when someone else found it first.
That person made some noise while grabbing supplies and was heard by the guards. After a thorough search, they dragged him out. The hole was sealed up afterward. No one knew what happened to the man, but it probably wasn't good.
On another morning run past the Administrative Office, Bryan was surprised to see the line stretching almost to the street. Most of the people waiting were parents with children or couples who seemed close.
It looked like many others had reached the same conclusion: better to take control now than be forcibly separated later when family members or loved ones got assigned to different zones.
The rest of their time—aside from eating and sleeping—was spent gathered around Osborne, learning everything he could teach them about pistols, shotguns, and even the empty assault rifle: how to aim, how to shoot, how to handle the weapons.
He even disassembled the guns completely, explaining what each part did, how to reassemble them step by step, how to maintain them properly, and how to replace worn components.
A week later, the military announced that data collection for all Dallas citizens was complete. The internal lottery would determine who qualified for the local Quarantine Zone. Once finished, the results would be posted at designated locations in each district.
When Bryan heard the announcement, he couldn't help rolling his eyes. Just as he'd predicted—"internal lottery" was code for "we pick the best people first; everyone else gets shipped out."
The waiting was excruciating. After the announcement, a strange tension settled over the entire city. Everyone wore worried expressions.
During their morning runs, Bryan could feel the anxiety radiating from the people around them. Some clasped their hands in prayer, begging for good luck. Even the usually steady Osborne tossed and turned at night, unable to sleep.
None of this affected Bryan, of course. He'd already volunteered for Atlanta—the lottery had nothing to do with him.
He continued his routine. Sometimes, passing a bookstore, he'd grab a novel to read—something to break the monotony. With the apocalypse, bookstores were the last thing on anyone's mind. Unless someone needed kindling, the stores sat untouched.
...
October 11, 2013
A week after the announcement, the list of survivors accepted into the Dallas Quarantine Zone was finally posted on bulletin boards throughout the city.
"Stop pushing! One at a time!"
"...Let me through, will you?"
"Stop shoving forward—you're past the red line!"
Hundreds of people crowded around the bulletin board. Without the soldiers standing guard and the red boundary line keeping people back, the mob would have trampled the board in seconds.
"Dad! We're on the list!"
Kelly burst out of the crowd, waving her ID card excitedly.
The board was covered in dense rows of numbers and names—enough to make anyone's eyes blur. But finding yourself was simple: just match the first letter and suffix on your ID card to the names listed.
"That's... wonderful." Hearing that he and Kelly had both made it, Osborne's normally stoic face broke into a rare smile. He ruffled his daughter's hair, genuinely happy.
Bryan and Sarah exchanged glances from nearby, relieved for the father and daughter. A weight lifted from their shoulders.
But for every person celebrating, another was devastated. Those who'd made the Dallas list were the lucky ones. Everyone else would be randomly assigned to nearby zones—or somewhere much farther.
On the walk back, Bryan noticed many people with dejected expressions. Being reassigned wasn't quite tragic enough for tears, but the anxiety and uncertainty were plain to see.
When they reached the RV, Osborne and Kelly immediately started packing. Once the list was posted, announcements had instructed all selected residents to prepare their belongings—entry into the zone would begin tomorrow.
Since the RV couldn't enter the zone and their guns and food would be confiscated anyway, they packed only warm clothing. Everything else stayed behind for Bryan and Sarah.
"Antoine, aren't you going to check the list?"
While Osborne and Kelly bustled around inside, Bryan sat outside. He noticed Antoine sitting by his RV, sipping his little bottle of liquor as contentedly as ever.
"Nothing to see." Antoine sat in his doorway, face flushed as always. He glanced at Bryan and shrugged dismissively.
Then something seemed to cross his mind. His expression darkened. He stood and moved toward his RV, but paused at the door. Looking back at them, he said quietly: "Kids... goodbye."
Sarah watched the suddenly subdued old man, confused by the change. "What's... wrong with him?"
"I don't know. Maybe... he's had too much to drink." Bryan was puzzled too. Antoine loved his liquor, but he was usually cheerful and joking. This mood was new. Bryan could only guess.
That night, none of them could sleep. Tomorrow's farewell weighed heavily on everyone's hearts.
They spread out a feast of food on the table, eating heartily, sharing stories from their pasts. Laughter filled the RV as they enjoyed their final evening together.
"Bryan, listen carefully to what I'm about to say." In the middle of the conversation, Osborne's expression suddenly turned serious. "I know you're smart—not like an ordinary kid. But since we're about to part ways, let me share something with you. Consider it advice from an old soldier."
"Okay. I'm listening." Seeing Osborne's gravity, Bryan set aside his smile and nodded.
"This world has changed beyond recognition. We'll be okay inside the zone with the military protecting us. But you two—out there—you need to be careful." Osborne opened a beer—a rare indulgence for him—and took a long drink.
"You've never experienced the brutality of war. You don't know how much a person's darkest desires can swell when there's no order, no rules. This apocalypse is hundreds of times worse than any battlefield. As food gets scarcer, people will become more and more dangerous.
"You're smart. You're calm. Against infected, you might handle yourself just fine..."
He trailed off, as if remembering something dark. His grip tightened on the beer bottle. He took another deep swig and continued, his voice cold:
"But sometimes... the things more terrifying than those twisted monsters... are human hearts that have slipped free of their moral chains."
The temperature in the RV seemed to plunge. An icy chill seeped through their clothes, into their skin, straight to their hearts.
Kelly and Sarah fell silent, unconsciously pulling their jackets tighter. These words felt too heavy for them.
"I understand."
For Bryan, who'd consumed countless apocalypse novels, he could have rattled off plenty of theories about human darkness.
But knowing something was one thing. Experiencing it was entirely another. Without living through it, all the theories in the world were just castles in the air.
"I don't know if the apocalypse will really be as brutal as I imagine. But... when the time comes, I'll make my own judgments."
Osborne studied Bryan's face for a long moment. A slight smile tugged at his lips. "I told you—this is just advice. What choices you make are your own."
"Heh..."
Bryan smiled too. He reached for a beer and popped it open. Underage drinking wasn't exactly legal, but with the world like this, who cared? He took a long drink, then raised the bottle toward Osborne.
"Then... until we meet again."
Surprised by the gesture, Osborne's smile widened. He raised his own bottle, clinking it against Bryan's with a clear ring.
"Until we meet again."