"Of course we do!"
The words had barely left Allen's mouth before Sylvia sat bolt upright. "We have to!" she declared without hesitation. Her sister was still in Atlanta. No matter how dangerous the road ahead, even without soldiers accompanying them, she had to go.
Her sudden outburst startled Allen so badly he flinched. Sarah noticed and quickly helped him calm down.
"She's right. We're definitely going to Atlanta."
Seeing that Allen was okay, Bryan nodded in agreement with Sylvia. "The convoy's scattered, it's the middle of winter, and it's incredibly dangerous out there. The closest safe place is the Atlanta QZ. Rather than wandering around in constant fear, we might as well make a push for the Quarantine Zone."
Wilfred considered this silently, taking a sip from his canteen. He had reservations about going to Atlanta. The others all had compelling reasons to go, but he and Anna didn't necessarily need to reach that particular QZ.
The Quarantine Zone was located northeast of Atlanta proper. That meant crossing at least half the city to get there. Atlanta was one of America's largest metropolitan areas—the Infected population would be staggering. Even with the convoy's protection, reaching it safely had been uncertain. Without that protection now...
For Wilfred, his daughter's safety was paramount. He wouldn't risk both their lives for people he'd known only a few days, or for some so-called "safe zone."
Anna watched her father's conflicted expression from across the fire. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Since her mother's death, he'd prioritized her safety above everything. Given the danger ahead, she was certain he'd choose not to go to Atlanta.
But she couldn't bear to keep living like this—constantly fleeing, perpetually terrified, wandering the wilderness. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept soundly, always afraid an Infected would tear out her throat while she rested. She'd had enough of this life.
Anna stood slowly and moved to sit beside her father. She leaned close and whispered something in his ear.
After a brief exchange—an argument, really—Wilfred finally looked at the determination in his daughter's eyes and relented with a nod.
"If you want to go, then we'll go," he sighed. "Though it would be much better if we could find those trucks that escaped and link up with them. With their escort, our chances of reaching the QZ safely would be much higher."
Seeing everyone commit to Atlanta, Sylvia breathed a small sigh of relief. But her shoulders slumped, her expression still troubled. Even with everyone agreeing to go, without soldier escorts, she didn't hold much hope of actually surviving the journey. She'd only asked for their decision because she hadn't wanted to travel alone.
After Wilfred finished speaking, no one said anything more. Silence settled over the group once again.
"The commander will give us a location!"
A hoarse voice suddenly broke the quiet. Everyone turned to find Tracy standing nearby. The weakness from before had vanished from her demeanor.
She rubbed her reddened eyes and returned to her spot, sitting down. She pulled out her radio and set it on the floor.
"Before we left Dallas, we planned for this kind of scenario. If something like this happened, the commander would fire a signal flare into the sky and broadcast on the public frequency to announce the rally point."
She glanced toward the window, where the blizzard still raged. "But... they probably won't start until this storm passes."
"That's fine." Relief washed over Wilfred's face at the news that the convoy might regroup. "We were planning to wait out the blizzard anyway."
The others also exhaled with relief at hearing the military would fire signal flares to reassemble the convoy.
"Alright then. Allen, Sarah—help me drag that couch over here."
Seeing there was nothing more to discuss, Bryan stood and beckoned to the two younger ones. Earlier, he'd spotted a large sofa in one of the ground-floor offices—big enough to use as a bed.
The three of them cleared the path and, under everyone's watchful eyes, slowly dragged the sofa over to the fire.
Bryan noticed the others hadn't moved yet. He plopped onto the couch. "You should all find something to sleep on too. Who knows how long this storm will last—we might be here for days. You don't want to sleep on cardboard the whole time, do you?"
That got a few chuckles. Everyone dispersed to search for more furniture. Fortunately, the second floor had plenty of offices, most equipped with sofas. They even found some thin blankets. With combined effort, they hauled everything downstairs.
Soon, the area around the fire was cleared and arranged with four sofas in a circle. Everyone lay back on the soft cushions, feeling the warmth radiating from the flames, blankets pulled over them. Pure bliss.
Then came the discussion of watch shifts. The blizzard made travel nearly impossible for both humans and Infected, but nothing was certain. They needed to keep the risk as low as possible.
Bryan helped Sarah and Allen get settled under their blankets, then picked up a few pieces of wood from the floor and fed them to the fire.
The nightmare from earlier had left too deep an impression. He had no desire to sleep, so he volunteered for watch duty.
Though Bryan was just a child, the others had seen his adult-like judgment. No one objected. They lay back on their sofas and drifted off.
Perhaps everyone was simply too exhausted, or the sofas were too comfortable. Within minutes, soft snoring filled the lobby.
"Not sleeping?" Bryan checked his watch—almost 1 AM. He noticed Tracy was also awake, sitting on her sofa and staring at the flames.
"Mm."
She glanced at him, fingers intertwined, thumbs rubbing together. Her expression was conflicted, as if wrestling with something internally.
But after only a moment's hesitation, she spoke. "About earlier... I'm sorry. I was too impulsive. I shouldn't have blamed you."
Bryan raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised that she was apologizing.
Then he gave a light laugh and waved dismissively. "It's fine. I didn't take it to heart. I just hope you won't tell anyone else about this."
Seeing that he truly wasn't holding a grudge, Tracy relaxed noticeably. When he asked her to keep quiet, she smiled wryly. "Like you said—even if I told someone, they probably wouldn't believe me anyway."
"Still, I'd rather you didn't breathe a word of it."
Bryan tossed another log onto the fire, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness. "Honestly, I still don't understand what happened myself. But if the wrong person found out, they might think I have some kind of ability to predict danger. They wouldn't care whether it's true or not—they'd try to capture me first and ask questions later..."
Tracy listened in silence. She could hear the vulnerability beneath his words, and she understood: in this apocalypse, if strangers learned about this, his fears could easily become reality.
She nodded firmly. "Alright. I won't tell anyone."
Then she yawned involuntarily, fatigue finally catching up. She lay back on the sofa. "You know," she murmured, "you don't seem like a twelve- or thirteen-year-old at all. You're more like a worldly adult."
"Heh."
Bryan glanced at her half-closed eyes and chuckled softly. That's because I am an adult, he thought. Just forced into a younger body. But aloud, he simply said, "Maybe I'm just a fast learner."
Tracy's lips curved slightly. She closed her eyes and gave a noncommittal hum. Before long, she too had drifted off.
Bryan surveyed the sleeping figures around him, then rose quietly to adjust their blankets.
Afterward, he patrolled the entire ground floor, confirming every door and window was secured. Only then did he return to the fire.
He picked up a book he'd set aside earlier and, by the flickering firelight, began to read—passing the long, difficult hours of the night.
...
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