Waskom1:00 AM
"Ahh..."
At an eastern guard post on the town's perimeter, a young soldier stood watch, yawning wearily. His searchlight swept across the dark highway beyond.
"Damn... that bastard tricked me into taking his shift..." Matos felt the bitter wind cutting through the guard tower's open sides. He released the searchlight, hugging himself, rubbing his shoulders vigorously for warmth.
He was a fresh recruit, less than six months in. Tonight's assignment should have been interior patrol—easy duty. But a more senior "colleague" had informed him of a supposed schedule change: perimeter watch at the forward post.
Matos hadn't questioned it initially—such reassignments happened. But when he'd arrived, the soldier already there had looked at him with confusion.
After comparing notes, Matos realized the truth: there was no schedule change. His "senior colleague" had simply conned him into taking this freezing post so he could stay warm inside.
But Matos was already here. He couldn't just leave. Reluctantly, he'd agreed to cover the shift.
His teeth chattered harder. He clenched his fists, vowing to confront that guy tomorrow.
Glancing at the dark highway, he figured nothing would happen tonight. If people or Infected were nearby, they'd have been drawn by the gunfire and explosions when the convoy entered town.
Nothing's going to happen... might as well rest a bit...
He released the searchlight and crouched in the corner, hands cupped before his mouth, exhaling warm breath onto his frozen fingers. Just a brief break.
"Bzzt... bzzt..." He'd barely settled in when the radio on the nearby table crackled. A gruff voice emerged: "Matos, where'd you go? I don't see you anymore..."
"I'm here!" Matos cursed himself for forgetting about the other guard post across the way. He grabbed the radio and stood, waving at the opposite tower to show himself.
Seeing Matos reappear, the figure across the gap waved back. "What happened? You vanished—thought something had gotten you..."
"Ah... nothing... dropped something, took a while to find it..." Matos's heart skipped. He made up an excuse quickly, not daring to admit he'd been slacking.
The other guard, satisfied Matos was fine and noticing his shivering, continued: "Never mind. You're clearly not built for this. I'll go find Kuma and get him to relieve you—that jerk's been pulling tricks to dodge duty. I'll handle it quietly. Hold the post for half an hour; I'll be back."
"Thank God—thanks so much!" Matos felt a surge of relief. No more freezing.
He watched the other guard disappear, then stood at attention for a few minutes to make sure the other post was truly empty. Once certain, he eagerly retreated to his corner, leaning his head against the wall, planning to catch a few minutes of sleep.
Just twenty minutes, he told himself. But the moment his eyes closed, exhaustion crashed over him. Consciousness faded.
He didn't know how long he'd slept when a strange sound jolted him awake. He sat up abruptly, slapping his own face, cursing his stupidity. He checked his watch immediately.
"Whew... close call."
Only twenty minutes had passed. Matos exhaled in relief. That had been too close.
He'd completely passed out. If someone had discovered him sleeping on watch, the consequences would have been severe...
"Lucky the wind woke me up..."
Hearing the howling gusts outside, Matos assumed that was what had roused him. He stood, preparing to shake off the lethargy and return to his post properly.
But the moment he straightened, his pupils contracted violently. He froze in place, face draining of color.
In the distance, stretching as far as the eye could see, a dark mass surged toward the town. The searchlight's beam fell across the leading edge of that mass, illuminating twisted, grotesque faces—
Infected.
. . .
The town had grown quiet after the initial bustle. With tasks completed, civilians had collected their food rations and a bowl of hot soup from the distribution points.
The warm liquid spread through their bodies, chasing away the chill. Most people, suddenly aware of their exhaustion, stretched and headed to their assigned lodgings.
Only patrolling soldiers remained on the streets, moving in three-person squads.
Regulations dictated that civilians should sleep on the buses for rapid evacuation in emergencies. But Waskom was substantial, with plenty of large residential buildings. Given the freezing temperatures and relative safety of the cleared town, command had allowed people to sleep indoors to prevent illness.
In a house on the western side of town center, flames crackled in the fireplace, casting flickering light across the dim living room. Furniture had been pushed to the walls, and dozens of people lay on makeshift bedding, clustering as close to the warmth as possible.
Bryan sat half-reclined against a wall near the fire, eyes half-closed, gently patting Sarah's back as she slept beside him. The howling wind outside filled the silence, yet sleep wouldn't come.
Maybe he'd slept too much on the bus. Even now, deep into the night, he felt no drowsiness. Besides, someone needed to watch their bags. He'd decided to stay awake, feigning rest while remaining alert to every sound.
He wasn't the only one still conscious. Everyone worried about opportunistic theft during the night. Those who knew each other had formed informal watch rotations; the rest, like Bryan, clutched their belongings and dozed lightly, ready to wake at the slightest disturbance.
As Bryan's mind wandered, he heard movement nearby—someone rising. His eyes snapped open, tracking the sound.
A figure slowly got to its feet, surveyed the room, and apparently satisfied that no one had noticed, bent to grab a backpack. Staying in the shadows, moving awkwardly on unsteady legs, the figure crept toward the front door—clearly hoping to avoid recognition.
Bryan raised an eyebrow, immediately identifying the person. Everyone in this house had been on the same bus. Between those trembling legs and that distinctive hair color... yes, it was the young troublemaker from earlier. Someone had called him Jim, he recalled.
Jim didn't realize that his movements had awakened everyone in the room—and that they'd all instantly recognized him.
He was too excited. Earlier, he and a dozen fellow punishment recipients had gathered secretly. They'd agreed to flee tonight. One of them knew the area well and claimed there was a hidden town nearby with substantial food stores.
Better to escape now than wait to be used as cannon fodder. As long as they avoided Infected, they could live quite comfortably.
But slinking away wasn't satisfying enough. They'd decided to sabotage some vehicles first—payback against those who'd punished them and those who'd betrayed them.
Given the guards outside each building and the street patrols, they'd only agreed on a meeting point. Getting there would be each person's own challenge.
Jim had planned to climb out the bathroom window. But just as he'd prepared to move, he'd noticed the female soldier at the front door step away. Seizing the opportunity, he'd immediately headed for the exit instead.
"Perfect!"
He pressed against the door frame, easing it open just a crack. Cold wind sliced through. His already-trembling legs shook harder. But seeing the doorway truly unguarded, his spirits soared. Without hesitation, he slipped outside.
WOOO-WOOO-WOOO—!
Just as Jim jogged through the snow, a triumphant grin spreading across his face, the night air split with a piercing, urgent alarm. His expression froze.