CHAPTER ONE

THE sun was setting over Camp Blue Sky, casting the forested settlement in a warm, golden light that belied the tension brewing beneath the surface. Nestled in a clearing surrounded by dense forest, the camp had once been a beacon of hope, a place where survivors could catch their breath and imagine, however briefly, that life could be normal again. But hope was fragile in a world overrun by the dead, and that night, Francesca Murphy watched it shatter.

She had been standing on the riverbank, her eyes scanning the tree line. The air was thick with unease, a feeling that had been building for days. Spirits were low, the Z appearances were high, and the once-tight-knit colony of survivors had begun to fray at the edges. Rumors of another horde moving through the area had only made things worse.

Behind her, the camp bustled with nervous energy. People rushed to fortify the gates, stacking debris and whatever scraps of metal they could find. Others gathered in small groups, whispering plans of escape or last stands. The air was filled with the sounds of clanging metal and anxious voices.

A scream pierced the air, sharp and shrill. Frankie's heart leapt into her throat as she looked toward the camp. A group of survivors had gathered there, their faces paled with fear. She squinted, trying to make out what was happening, and then she saw it — a young girl, no older than thirteen, had turned inside the camp.

"Pike her!" Someone shouted, pointing at the small rotting figure. Panic rippled through the camp like wildfire as survivors rushed to give the poor girl mercy.

Frankie slid through the bushes, jumped over a small ditch, and hit the ground running. She grabbed her machete from her hip, her thoughts racing. Someone needed to give her mercy, or the whole damn camp would fall.

Garnett and Warren were nowhere to be found, and the same could be said for Addy, Mack, and Doc. It was just Frankie remaining, left to deal with the chaos alone.

She could only get within ten feet of the zombie girl, watching in horror as she lunged at a survivor from behind. Within seconds, one Z had turned into two, two had turned into four, and so on. Zombies flooded the camp, their moans drowning out the screams of the living. Chaos erupted as the remaining survivors fought for their lives, but it was no use. For every Z they took down, three more seemed to take its place.

Frankie swung her machete, cutting down the nearest Z. Blood splattered across her face, but she didn't even flinch. She had to keep moving, had to find a way out. The camp was lost — she knew that the moment the girl turned.

She sprinted toward the shelters, dodging grasping hands and desperate survivors. Her heart thundered in her chest, adrenaline driving her forward. As she neared the edge of the camp, she heard a small voice cry out.

"Help me! Please!"

Frankie turned to see a young girl, no more than ten years old, trapped under a large branch that had fallen. Her eyes were wide with terror as Z's closed in. Frankie didn't hesitate. She raced to the girl's side, hacking at the undead with wild swings.

"Hold on!" She shouted, her voice hoarse with fear.

With one final swing, she cleared the area and heaved the branch off the girl.

"Can you walk?" Frankie asked, pulling the girl to her feet.

The girl nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you."

"Come on, we have to go. Now!" Frankie grabbed the girl's hand and they ran, weaving through the chaos toward the tree line.

As they reached the edge of the forest, Frankie stole one last glance at Camp Blue Sky. The place that had once been a sanctuary was now a feeding ground. Fires blazed, smoke billowing into the darkening sky, and the screams of the dying echoed through the trees. The camp was lost, consumed by the very thing it had sought to escape.

But before they could make it much farther, the girl was ripped from Frankie's grasp, and a harrowing scream sounded soon after. Her heart sank at the sound, but she kept moving as the screams were slowly replaced with haunting growls.

"Don't look back," Frankie whispered, encouraging herself to continue her escape. "Just keep running."

She plunged into the forest, leaving the nightmare behind. But as the screams and growls faded, Frankie knew the memory of Camp Blue Sky would haunt her forever.

...

Frankie crouched behind the thick brush, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps as she tried to calm her racing heart. The night was dark, the moon hidden behind heavy clouds that threatened rain, but the faint light from the distant fires that had engulfed the camp still reached her. She had just barely escaped, but now she was alone, uncertain of her next move.

She couldn't help but think of her friends — Addy, Mack, Doc, Garnett, and Warren. Had they managed to escape? They'd left camp hours ago... Had they seen the smoke and gone back?

Her heart ached as she thought of them. Addy, with her fierce determination and quick wit; Mack, steady and strong, always ready to put himself between danger and the rest of the group; Doc, with his crude humor and reassuring presence; Garnett, the leader who had kept them all together through impossible situations; and Warren, sharp and tactical, whose orders had saved them more times than Frankie could count.

Had they made it? Or were they lying among the bodies left behind in the ruins of Camp Blue Sky?

She shuddered at the thought, pushing it away. No, she couldn't think like that. They were strong, smart, and resourceful. If anyone could make it out alive, it was them.

But what now? The infected roamed the night, and every shadow seemed to hold a lurking threat. She couldn't stay in one place for too long. She needed to move, to find a safer place to regroup and plan. She contemplated doubling back, trying to find them, or at least figure out where they might go next — but that was too much of a risk.

Frankie stood slowly, every muscle tense, her ears straining for any sound that might betray the presence of the infected. The night was eerily quiet, but she knew better than to trust it. She would have to move carefully, using the darkness to her advantage.

With one last glance back at the direction of the fallen camp, Frankie set off into the night, determination hardening her resolve. She had survived this long, and she wasn't going to give up now. She had to keep pushing forward.

For Diah, for Addy and Mack — for herself.

...

It'd been three years since the world had fallen into darkness — three years since she was forced to stop being a normal fifteen year old.

But, it had been two years since she was last alone. Camp Blue Sky had given her some sense of family in this cruel and unforgiving world, and now that had been ripped from her once more.

She wandered the street, the harsh white rays of the sun piercing her gaze as she carefully trekked down the decrepit highway.

"Kill it!" A distant voice shrieked, "Kill it!"

Typically, she would have shrugged it off as a coward who simply got lucky by making it this far, but the familiarity of the voice drew her to its location.

Frankie spotted the shape of three stalled trucks in the distance, her heart leaping in her chest as she recognized the familiar figures of Addy, Mack, Doc, Garnett, and Warren huddled around one of them. Relief washed over her like a wave, followed by a surge of urgency as she noticed the state of one of the vehicles — it looked like it had been through hell. One of the tires was blown out, the paint irreparably scratched, and smoke billowing from under the hood. the group was clearly in a tense discussion.

But it wasn't just them. There were three others with them — a lanky guy who looked barely 18, a girl with black hair, and a man with graying and matted hair, his face etched with the hard lines of someone who had seen far too much. The sight of the older man made Frankie's breath catch in her throat; she would recognize that face anywhere, even after all these years.

Alvin Murphy.

Her father.

She felt a surge of conflicting emotions — rage, confusion, disbelief. How could he be here, alive, after all this time? After abandoning her and her mother, like they held no significance in his life from the beginning, he had the audacity to find his way back now?

As she got closer, she heard the familiar chuckle of Doc. "Look what the Z's dragged in."

The group's attention moved toward their friend, confusion bubbling through their minds when she'd continued approaching without acknowledging them at all.

Alvin Murphy's gaze met hers, instant recognition swirling in his blue eyes — in the eyes they shared — and for a moment, it was as if time had stood still. The other two who had joined the group in her absence were slightly confused, but she didn't even spare them a glance. All she could see was red, and the estranged man before her.

A low, guttural snarl from beneath the truck broke the silence, drawing everyone's attention to a half-crushed Z that had somehow managed to get pinned under the vehicle. Frankie would have been confused, if she weren't so infuriated, so she hadn't thought to question it. Before anyone could react, her rage boiled over. She stormed forward, drawing her machete with a fluid motion and plunging it into the Z's skull, silencing it with a sickening crunch.

The group stared at her in slight shock, considering she hadn't said a single word since she showed up, but she barely even noticed. She rounded on Murphy, her white-knuckled grip somehow tightening further on the handle of her blade as she stalked towards him.

"You," she spat, her volume rising with anger. "What the hell are you doing alive?"

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and for a moment, he looked like he might bolt, but he stood his ground, his expression guarded.

"Francesca?" He questioned, wincing, as if the name were foreign to him. "I didn't expect—"

"Didn't expect what? To see me?" Frankie cut him off, her tone lethal. "That I'd still be alive after fifteen fucking years of life without you?"

Murphy had known for years that, if they ever reunited, this would be how it went. He knew he deserved the poison in her tone and the lethality that burned in her eyes. He knew, but that didn't mean he cared.

What he hadn't known, was that they would reunite in an apocalypse. A world where everyone is a killer to some extent, a world where there is no punishment for taking a life — unless you're in a settlement or camp.

So, with that in mind, he was quick to jump away from the eighteen year old before him — just barely dodging the swing of her machete. His eyes widened in fear, glancing around the group behind her with a panicked expression.

"Frankie, calm down," Garnett spoke, as Mack and the newer guy stepped in to hold her back.

Most of them had witnessed the rage she hid beneath her untarnished skin, painfully aware of the many burdens that she refused to speak of — and even though none of them had developed a very positive opinion on the man, they needed him alive.

She didn't care to ask why he was still alive, or why he'd polluted the group of survivors that she'd begun to view as family. Not yet. She could ask questions later. Right now, the years of abandonment, the pain of losing her mother, the anger she had carried for so long — all of it came rushing back to the surface, her heart and soul screaming for her to kill him as he stood.

However, Garnett's choice of words quickly broke her from her tunnel-vision.

"Calm down?!" She snapped, her eyes snapping to the military man, glowing with fury and disbelief. "This is a man who abandoned his family, who left a three year old wondering what she did to make him leave, who let that same girl suffer through her mom's funeral alone. And now he's just... what? Here? Alive?"

Murphy's panicked expression quickly dissipated, a smirk now tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raised an eyebrow, his demeanor shifting from scared to smug in an instant.

"Yeah, well, I guess you're just full of surprises, aren't you, Muppet?" He stated, his voice dripping with arrogance. The nickname that haunted her childhood only furthered her rage as he continued, "I mean, here we are, against all odds, still kicking. Must run in the family, huh?"

Frankie's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching impossibly tighter. "Don't you dare," she growled. "Don't you dare act like this is some kind of happy reunion, like we're supposed to be glad to see each other. If it wasn't for them, you'd be dead already."

She spun on her heel, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm of anger, confusion, and betrayal. She could still feel her father's cocky smirk burning into her skull, and it took everything she had not to turn around and pike him right there as he stood. Her eyes locked onto Warren and Garnett, preparing to ask why her they were with him — why they hadn't just left him behind like he had done to her all those years ago.

"You'd really kill your old man like that?"

That was it. When Mack and the new guy were far enough away, she stormed back over to the man she came from; just as the group were about to step in, she threw a disgustingly fast right hook and knocked the man to the ground.

Murphy yelled in pain, bringing forth a sly grin to her lips as she turned back to the group.

Garnett stepped forward, his expression serious but tinged with sympathy. "Frankie, I know this is a lot to take in," he began, his voice calm and measured. "But we didn't have much of a choice."

The blue eyed girl crossed her arms, her gaze hardening as she stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about? Why didn't you just leave him where you found him?"

Warren, who had been standing slightly behind Garnett, stepped into the conversation. "It's not that simple," she said, her tone informative. "He's immune to the infection. He was bitten, but he didn't turn. He has the bites to prove it."

Frankie's eyes widened, shock momentarily eclipsing her anger.

Garnett nodded. "Yeah. We were given a mission to get him to a lab in California. There are scientists there who believe they can create a cure, but they need Murphy to do it. He's our best hope — the world's best hope — of ending this nightmare."

The brunette shook her head, struggling to process what she was hearing. "So, what? You're just going to drag him across the country and hope they can make something out of him? He couldn't even make something out of himself."

Warren shrugged. "It's a long shot, but it's the best shot we've got."

Frankie felt the world tilt around her, her emotions a twisted mess of confusion, fury, and the painful stab of betrayal.

Addy, sensing her friend's turmoil, stepped closer, her eyes filled with concern. "I know how hard this is for you," she said gently. "But we're damn sure not doing this for him. We're doing it for everyone. For the people who didn't make it, for the people who are still out there fighting to survive. If there's even a chance that he could help end this, we have to take it."

She stayed silent.

"Look," her red haired friend continued, her voice soft, "I know seeing him again is bringing up a lot of shit you thought you buried. But right now, we need you with us."

Frankie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tried to steady herself. The logical part of her mind understood what they were saying, understood the stakes. But the part of her that had spent years resenting Alvin Murphy, hating him for abandoning her, couldn't reconcile the idea that he could be the key to saving everyone.

She opened her eyes, looking at Addy, Garnett, and Warren with a mixture of frustration and resignation. "I don't trust him," she said, her voice low but resolute. "And I'm not going to pretend like I do. But... I'll stay. I'll help. But, if he survives whatever tests they're gonna run on him, I call dibs on beating him to death."

Addy gave her a small, relieved smile, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Wouldn't dream of taking that from you."

Frankie nodded, returning the smile, though the knot in her chest refused to loosen. She knew this was going to be one of the hardest things she'd ever done, facing the man who had caused her so much pain, working alongside her friends to protect him for the greater good. But she also knew she couldn't walk away, not now. Not when so much was at stake.

She glanced back at Murphy, who was now leaning casually against the side of the truck, watching the exchange with a look that was half amusement, half indifference. Frankie's stomach churned, but she forced herself to turn away, focusing on her friends instead.

She would find a way to deal with Murphy. She had to. But for now, she had to focus on what mattered most — surviving, protecting her friends, and maybe, just maybe, finding a way to save the world.