Jackson stared down the empty road stretching out before him, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. The weight in his chest was almost unbearable, knowing his son wasn't in the truck with him.

He swallowed hard, forcing the thought out of his head. He didn't have time to dwell on it-not now. The dead had been closing in, and someone had to lead them away. That someone was him.

His focus shifted to the task at hand. Fort Fisher wasn't far from the beach house. He could drop the Lieutenant off there, get back to his group, and move forward. He respected soldiers, always had, but this one made him uneasy. Maybe it was because the man had thrown his plans into disarray, or maybe it was Richard's repeated warnings echoing in his mind: "Don't tell anyone what we're doing-don't trust anyone."

Still, Jackson couldn't deny the usefulness of having someone with military experience around. He was tempted to ask the Lieutenant to join their group, but the words caught in his throat. Fear and uncertainty gnawed at him. Could this man be trusted?

The silence in the cab was broken by the Lieutenant's voice.

"Well... looks like we're not alone on this journey," said Lieutenant Ward, glancing through the back window. His tone was calm, almost casual, but his eyes were sharp.

Jackson's stomach churned as he saw what the Lieutenant was referring to. Through the rearview mirror, he spotted Yoshimoto's car trailing them, with Hannah and Geneva inside. They'd decided to follow, despite the lack of a concrete plan.

"They didn't have anywhere else to go," Jackson muttered, his voice hoarse. His grip on the wheel tightened as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

The Lieutenant's piercing gaze shifted to Jackson's trembling hands. He squinted slightly, leaning forward in his seat. "At ease," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "Do you need me to take the wheel? I know the way."

Jackson froze for a moment, the tension in his shoulders only growing. His face hardened as he shook his head, a poor attempt to mask his inner turmoil.

"Yeah... I'm fine," he said, the words stumbling out. He tried to keep his voice firm, but the cracks showed. "I... I'm okay."

He wanted to say more, to bring up Tyler. The thought of his son gnawed at him like a wound that refused to close. But he stopped himself. Talking about it wouldn't help. Not here. Not now.

Tyler was the biggest mistake of Jackson's life-or at least that's what he'd always told himself. And now, as the truck rumbled down the empty highway, he wondered if he was about to drag that mistake into a new and potentially darker world.

Probably not a place for kids like that anyways, he thought bitterly. The guilt that followed was sharp, cutting through him like a blade. Tyler wasn't just some mistake; he was all Jackson had left. So why was he even thinking about abandoning him again?

Jackson clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the road. The familiar pangs of self-loathing gnawed at his thoughts, but he let out a rough huff, trying to shove them aside.

"The turn-off is in half a mile," the Lieutenant said, nodding toward the exit ramp just visible down the long stretch of road.

Jackson blinked, his gaze flicking briefly to the rearview mirror. He caught a glimpse of the group trailing behind them, their vehicles steady but distant. He exhaled slowly and nodded. "Alright. I'll drop you off there, and then I've got to go my own way," he said firmly, his voice low but steady.

The Lieutenant turned his head sharply, his expression unreadable at first. "Go your own way?" he repeated, his tone even but carrying a weight that made Jackson's shoulders tense. "I'm a Lieutenant in the Marines. I think your way should be here, with me. I'm your best bet of making it through this," he said, his gaze locking onto Jackson with an intensity that felt almost suffocating.

Jackson shifted uncomfortably under the soldier's stare. The man wasn't angry, but his refusal to accept Jackson's plan was palpable. Jackson gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles white. "I've got things I need to take care of. People," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet defiance. He shook his head as if the gesture alone would make the soldier understand.

Lieutenant Ward leaned back slightly, his expression softening-just barely. He nodded once, as if weighing Jackson's words carefully. "I get it," he said finally, his voice quieter now. "I've got people too. A family." He paused, his gaze briefly drifting out the window. "Once I make sure this fort is secure, I'm going back for them. No matter what."

The Lieutenant's admission caught Jackson off guard, though he didn't show it. The man spoke with an unshakable certainty, and for a moment, Jackson envied him. It must have been comforting to have that kind of conviction, that kind of purpose.

Lieutenant Ward turned back to him, his expression hardening again. "Bring your people here, Jackson. I promise you-they'll have a better chance with me than out there." His voice was cold, stripped of any pretense. It wasn't a plea or a suggestion. It was a fact.

The words sent a shiver down Jackson's spine. The cold, hard truth was staring him in the face, but he wasn't sure he was ready to face it. He muttered under his breath, barely audible over the hum of the engine, "I'll think about it."

As the truck turned onto the exit ramp, Jackson's mind churned with conflicting thoughts. The rural mountainside plan felt safer-secluded, protected by nature itself. Fort Fisher, by contrast, felt exposed, vulnerable. The ocean could be as deadly as the dead themselves, and without weather alerts, a natural disaster could wipe them out without warning.

Jackson shook his head, trying to clear the storm in his mind. For now, all he could do was drive and hope the road ahead held something better than what they'd left behind.

---

"Where do you think they are going?" Geneva asked, her voice trembling as she held Hannah closer in the back seat. Her friend's head rested against her shoulder, and Geneva could feel how cold and clammy her skin had become.

Yoshimoto glanced at the rearview mirror, his brows furrowing as he took in the pale, lifeless expression on Hannah's face. He hesitated before responding, his voice low and uncertain. "I don't know... But Jackson is the leader. He makes quick decisions, and good ones. That's something we need if we want to survive."

He shivered slightly after the words left his mouth, as though the truth of them weighed heavier than he cared to admit.

Geneva stared at him, surprised by his calm tone, before shaking her head in frustration. "Uh uh... No way! I've got parents and family! I can't just follow him blindly," she argued, her voice rising slightly as she thought about her family back in Pennsylvania.

Images of her parents flashed in her mind-her mother's warm laugh, her father's reassuring smile. She clung to those memories like a lifeline, willing herself to believe they were still alive and safe.

Yoshimoto sighed, his grip on the wheel tightening as he maneuvered the small Toyota down the quiet highway. "I get it, but..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "you don't even know if they're still alive, Geneva. None of us do."

"Your family is already dead," Hannah muttered suddenly, her voice hollow and distant.

The car fell into an uneasy silence. Geneva's breath hitched as she turned to her friend, shock and hurt flickering across her face. "Hannah..." she began, but quickly stopped herself. She could see the emptiness in her friend's glazed-over eyes, the way her lips barely moved when she spoke.

It wasn't Hannah speaking, not really.

"No," Geneva said softly, as much to herself as to Hannah. She clenched her jaw, her determination cutting through her fear. "I will find them. They'll be okay."

She wasn't sure if she believed her own words. The grim reality gnawed at the edges of her mind, whispering that maybe she was clinging to false hope. But she shoved those thoughts away. She had to believe in something.

The road ahead stretched endlessly, the horizon marred by empty cars and streaks of dried blood. Not a single living person had crossed their path since leaving the hotel. The silence outside felt unnatural, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.

"Well, you've certainly got a better chance than I do!" Yoshimoto said with a forced chuckle, his attempt at levity falling flat. "My family is all the way over in Japan."

Geneva almost smiled at his words, but the pain on his face was unmistakable. His usual cheerful demeanor was a thin mask, hiding the despair that simmered just beneath the surface. She lowered her head, her voice soft. "Yeah... I guess so."

Her gaze drifted back to Hannah, whose head lolled against her shoulder. For a terrifying moment, Geneva thought her friend might have slipped away. But then she heard it-the shallow, wheezing sound of Hannah's breath.

"She's still breathing," Geneva whispered, more to herself than to Yoshi.

"She's strong," Yoshimoto said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. He tightened his grip on the wheel again. "We'll find somewhere safe soon. We have to."

Geneva nodded, though she didn't speak. The words felt hollow now, but what else could they do but cling to the hope of safety, however faint it might be?

They kept driving down the long, desolate road, the faint hum of the tires the only sound breaking the eerie silence. The truck ahead turned onto another road, its movements purposeful and steady, as if the driver knew exactly where they were headed.

Yoshimoto's shoulders relaxed slightly as he glanced back at Geneva. A flicker of hope crept into his voice as he spoke. "Well... it looks like we might have found somewhere safe," he said, his smile tentative but genuine as his eyes scanned the empty area ahead.

The sight was reassuring-several guard posts dotted the road leading toward their destination. They were unmanned now, but their presence suggested structure and safety, something none of them had felt in days.

Hannah stirred in the back seat, jerking upright at Yoshi's words. Her sunken eyes scanned the road ahead before her lips parted. "Fort Fisher..." she murmured, her voice raspy and weak. Her tongue flicked over her cracked lips as she spoke, the mention of food-or the thought of it-making her stomach churn.

Geneva shifted in her seat, leaning forward to get a better view. A faint smile broke across her face as she peered out the window. "Well... it looks like we might be safe. For now, at least," she said, her tone careful but tinged with relief.

Yoshi nodded in agreement, though he kept his focus on the road. Geneva's optimism was contagious, but the lingering unease in his chest wouldn't quite let him relax.

The car slowed as the truck ahead finally came to a stop, its brake lights glowing faintly in the dim light of dusk. The group fell silent, each of them staring ahead at the looming shape of Fort Fisher, its presence both intimidating and comforting.

---

"What were you guys thinking? Following us!" Jackson barked as he was the first to leave the truck, glaring back at the others as they exited their car.

Lieutenant Ward stepped out on the other side, his expression calm and unbothered by the young adults' decision to follow.

"Relax, Jackson," the Lieutenant said, his tone steady. "Seems like they trusted you... unlike the others." His words carried a faint tone of respect.

Jackson clenched his jaw and looked over at Yoshimoto, who stood at ease, his calm demeanor offering a stark contrast to the chaos around them. Memories of the young Japanese man's unwavering respectability flashed in Jackson's mind, helping to steady his nerves.

Yoshimoto raised his hands slightly, offering a sheepish grin. "Well... I don't have anywhere to go now. Don't think there are going to be any flights to Japan anytime soon. And the girls... well, they hitched an Uber to the hotel. So..." He trailed off, nodding toward Hannah and Geneva, who stood just behind him.

Geneva clung tightly to Hannah, practically holding her upright. It was clear Hannah was in bad shape-her pale face glistened with sweat, and each step looked like it sent sharp pain radiating through her body. Yet, despite it all, Hannah bit down on her agony, refusing to let out a single groan.

Jackson's brow furrowed as he looked at them. He hated the idea of dragging people who could barely walk into a warzone, but the decision had already been made.

"If you want to stay here, then you're welcome to. For as long as you want," the Lieutenant said, cutting through the awkward silence. "I plan on setting this up as a base. For now, at least."

Jackson glanced sideways at the soldier. The man's tone was resolute, yet it carried an undertone of weariness. The Lieutenant had been through hell and back; that much was obvious.

The Lieutenant continued, his gaze shifting toward the facility in the distance. "We had contingency plans from the special forces, but... looks like we've moved on from Plan A or B. Feels more like we're on Plan Z." He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.

Geneva blinked at him, her lips parting slightly. "Plan Z?" she asked, her voice trembling as if saying it aloud made it all the more real.

"I haven't heard a word from my comms," the Lieutenant admitted grimly. "But once I'm inside Fort Fisher, I should have better range. Hopefully, I can establish contact again."

Yoshimoto nodded earnestly, bowing his head slightly in gratitude. "Thank you, Lieutenant! We... we really appreciate it." His voice was firm, but the weight of exhaustion was evident in his expression.

The Lieutenant gave a small nod, barely acknowledging the gesture. He turned toward the fort's entrance, ready to move toward the main office when Jackson's voice suddenly cut through the air.

"Whoa! Looks like we've got one of the infected!" Jackson shouted, his voice sharp with panic.

Lieutenant Ward's years of training kicked in instantly. Without hesitation, his hand went to his pistol as he spun around, scanning the area with a laser-focused gaze.

"Where? I've got them!" he barked, his movements precise and ready for action.

"It's just Hannah! Relax!" Geneva cried, stepping protectively in front of her friend. Her outstretched hand trembled as she attempted to shield Hannah from the misunderstanding.

The Lieutenant studied the girl struggling to walk, leaning heavily on her friend for support. His sharp eyes landed on the bloodied bandage around her lower leg. He recognized the telltale signs of an infected wound but held his tongue. It wasn't the right time to raise alarms-not when he had just begun to gain the trust of the fragile group.

"So... what's the plan now? Because, honestly, I'm beat," he said, his voice carrying the exhaustion of the day. His body ached from the relentless running, and his mind was weighed down by thoughts he couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried.

The Lieutenant nodded toward the main office. "There's a bunk area over there. Lock it up tight-no one gets in or out. Come with me, and I'll grab a few pairs of keys for you all," he said, motioning for the group to follow. For now, keeping them together seemed like the only logical choice.

Yoshimoto and the girls exchanged glances before trailing after him. Jackson lingered behind, his gaze fixed on his truck. His thoughts churned as he weighed his options. The sweltering heat of the afternoon, despite reaching ninety degrees, felt oddly cold to him-a chill born of doubt and uncertainty.

"You coming, Jackson?" Yoshimoto called back, glancing over his shoulder. For a moment, he thought about Tyler, wondering where the boy was. He'd assumed the child was with Jackson, but they hadn't shared much interaction, just the faint similarity in their features.

"Yeah... I'm just thinking," Jackson replied, his voice distant as his eyes remained on the truck. His thoughts spiraled: should he stay with the Lieutenant and this group or find his son and rejoin Richard? Every choice felt like it carried unbearable weight.

"Well, how about you think inside? Unless you want to get eaten alive out here," Yoshimoto said, swatting at a mosquito buzzing near his face. Jackson wasn't sure if Yoshi meant the undead or the mosquitoes, but either way, the point was clear.

Jackson gave a small nod. "Yeah... you're right." He finally turned away from the truck and followed Yoshimoto, trailing behind the girls as they entered the main office.

Inside, the Lieutenant made a quick sweep of the room, ensuring it was clear before securing the door behind them. He gestured toward the bunks. "Alright, settle down over there. If anyone's hungry, there's some pickles and jerky in the storage room. It's not much, but it'll keep you going," he said, moving toward the comms station.

At the mention of food, Hannah's head snapped up. Her demeanor shifted, the pain in her leg momentarily forgotten. "Meat? Oh, I'd kill for some meat right now," she said with an unnatural enthusiasm, her voice carrying an odd edge.

Geneva tightened her grip on her friend, concern flickering across her face. The Lieutenant's gaze lingered on Hannah's leg, suspicion hardening his features. He watched her with narrowed eyes as she hobbled toward the storage room.

"Right... focus," he muttered to himself, pulling a chair closer to the radio. He began fiddling with the knobs, his calloused hands moving with the practiced precision of years in the field.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group ventured into the storage room. The hunger gnawed at them all-they hadn't eaten more than a handful of snacks since last night. The sight of the meager rations was both a relief and a reminder of their dire circumstances.

Hannah bit into a piece of jerky, her face contorting with disgust. "Ugh! This is nasty!" she exclaimed, holding the half-chewed meat away as if it had personally offended her. But her hunger won out, and she forced herself to keep eating, grimacing with every bite.

Geneva gave her a worried glance. "Hannah, maybe you should take it slow..."

From the other room, the Lieutenant's voice cut through the tension, tinged with dry humor. "Food's meant to last, not to taste good," he called out, his focus still on the radio. His tone was light, but the underlying tension in his voice wasn't lost on anyone.

Hannah grumbled under her breath, taking another reluctant bite. Geneva's eyes darted to Yoshimoto, who stood silently by the door, scanning the area as if expecting trouble at any moment.

The room's quiet was uneasy-broken only by the faint static of the radio and the sound of chewing. Everyone knew this was only a momentary respite. The real fight was still out there, waiting.

On the far side of the room, the Lieutenant hunched over the radio, his hands deftly turning knobs and adjusting dials. The static crackled and hissed, but then it began to clear, a faint hum of potential communication flickering through the speakers.

His brow furrowed as he leaned closer. Though no voice greeted him on the other end, the fact that the frequency seemed open was enough to stir his hope. His voice cut through the tense quiet of the room.

"Copy, copy! This is Lieutenant Ward at Fort Fisher in North Carolina. If anyone is out there and can hear me... The effort in the cities here was in vain. Repeat, the effort was in vain. If you need refuge or assistance, respond. Over."

He paused, waiting, his breath held as the static returned. The silence stretched, the faint voices of the others in the storage room drifting in the background. For a brief moment, his face betrayed the smallest glimmer of hope. But as the seconds ticked by without a reply, the hope evaporated, replaced by the heavy weariness of disappointment.

With a sharp exhale, he turned the dial again, switching frequencies. "Someone has to be out there," he muttered under his breath, almost as if trying to convince himself.

On the other side of the room, Hannah's eyes fixated on the Lieutenant with an unsettling intensity. Her lips twitched, and she shifted uncomfortably where she sat. Her hunger gnawed at her insides, a relentless ache that no amount of jerky could quell. But this wasn't the kind of hunger she had ever known before.

"I wonder if he knows..." she muttered, her voice distant and cold. Her gaze lingered on the large frame of the Lieutenant, and for a fleeting moment, the thought crossed her mind: He looks delicious.

The realization made her shudder. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as if trying to dislodge the thought. But the hunger remained, clawing at the edges of her sanity.

"You wonder if he knows what?" Yoshimoto asked, his voice breaking the spell. He turned toward her, following her line of sight, his expression curious but wary.

Hannah hesitated. For a moment, she looked like she might not answer at all. Her lips parted, then closed again as she wrestled with the storm brewing inside her. Finally, she tore her gaze away from the Lieutenant and glanced at Yoshi, her eyes shadowed with fear.

"It's pointless," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We've already lost. I can feel them. I can hear them."

The room fell silent as her words settled over the group like a suffocating fog. Geneva blinked, looking at her friend with a mixture of confusion and dread. Even Yoshimoto, ever the optimist, found himself at a loss for words.

Jackson stepped forward, his jaw tight as he stared at Hannah. Her words stung in a way he couldn't quite explain, but he refused to let them take root in his mind. His voice cut through the tension, firm and unyielding.

"It's not hopeless," he said, his tone almost commanding. "There are still people alive, Hannah. We can still save a lot of them."

His own words felt heavy, almost hollow. He didn't believe them entirely himself. His mind was already racing back to thoughts of his son, Tyler, the one person he should have been focused on saving. But he couldn't let his doubts show-not now, not when the group needed reassurance more than anything else.

Hannah stared at him for a moment, her face blank. Then she leaned back against the wall, her expression unreadable. The conversation hung in the air, unresolved, as the faint crackle of the radio filled the room once more. The Lieutenant continued his work, his focus unwavering, while the rest of the group sat in uneasy silence, the weight of the day pressing down on them all.

"Well... I don't know what we're waiting for," Geneva said, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Let's get those keys and then bunk up for the night." She nodded toward the men, her gaze briefly lingering on Hannah, who still looked pale and unsteady.

Yoshimoto straightened up, adjusting his glasses as he nodded. "Right... I'll get Ward to hand over the keys." His voice carried a sense of resolve, though he hesitated for a moment before approaching the Lieutenant.

The Lieutenant, hunched over the radio, was muttering to himself. His frustration was palpable as static hissed through the room. "Come on! Come on! Nobody?! Really?!" he growled, slamming a hand on the table. The reality of the situation weighed heavily on him-the dead were proving to be far more resilient and relentless than anyone had anticipated, and the silence on the other end of the radio was deafening.

He lowered his head, his shoulders sagging with dismay. The idea of no responses for over a hundred miles out was sinking in, gnawing at his resolve. For a fleeting moment, the thought of abandoning the fort and returning to his family crossed his mind. But even then, he knew the safety of his family was not guaranteed. They were secure indoors for now, but that was a fragile thread to cling to.

"Lieutenant," Yoshimoto's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to reality. The young man approached cautiously, nodding his head toward the older soldier. "About the keys you mentioned... you said you'd give them to us."

The Lieutenant flinched slightly, startled by the interruption. His hand instinctively went toward his holster before he realized it was Yoshimoto. His nerves were raw, stretched thin by the day's events. He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face before offering a tired but genuine nod.

"Yeah... I've got you," he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a small ring of keys. He held them up for a moment, letting them dangle before handing them over to Yoshimoto. "Be careful out there. It's quieter here than the city, but quieter doesn't mean safe. There's still work to be done."

Yoshimoto took the keys, bowing his head respectfully. "Understood," he said. His voice was calm, but his gaze flicked toward the door and the darkened landscape beyond. The warning wasn't lost on him, and he knew all too well that vigilance was their best ally now.

Ward blinked a few times, his exhaustion evident as he watched Yoshimoto return to the group. For a moment, he considered saying more-offering them a sliver of reassurance or advice-but he decided against it. They were learning, just as he had. Sometimes, survival was the only teacher.

As Yoshimoto returned to Geneva and Hannah, he held up the keys with a small, weary smile. "Got them. Let's settle in before it gets any darker," he said. The group nodded in agreement, though their movements were sluggish, weighed down by fatigue and the unspoken fear that tomorrow would bring more challenges.

Ward turned back to the radio, fiddling with the dials again. The static persisted, grating against his nerves. He muttered to himself, "Maybe tomorrow. Someone's got to be out there."

But deep down, he wasn't so sure anymore.

The rest of the group began to file out of the main room, each step filled with hesitation. They cast lingering glances at the Lieutenant, silently acknowledging the gravity of his presence. Even though the man looked worn and haunted, his discipline and experience radiated a strength they desperately needed.

"Good luck to you all... I'll check in on you later," the Lieutenant said, his voice firm but weary, nodding toward them in acknowledgment. His words carried a weight that filled the room, the sort of weight only a man who had seen countless battles could provide.

Geneva hesitated in the doorway, turning back to look at the Lieutenant. She wanted to say something-perhaps to thank him or to reassure herself that they could still trust him-but no words came. Instead, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before stepping out with the others.

As the group walked away, the door clicking shut behind them, a strange silence seemed to fill the air. It wasn't peace-there was no such thing anymore-but a pause in the chaos, a fleeting moment to breathe.

Inside the room, the Lieutenant let out a long sigh, finally allowing his shoulders to sag slightly. He was alone now, left with the faint hum of the radio and the relentless static that had accompanied him for hours. He rubbed his temples, staring down at the battered equipment before him. The reality of their situation settled like a lead weight in his chest.

"Come on, come on... Someone... Anyone..." he muttered under his breath, fiddling with the knobs, adjusting the frequency. His patience was frayed, and every moment of silence on the other end of the line chipped away at the hope he clung to.

He paused briefly, his eyes narrowing as he thought of his family. Are they safe? Are they even alive? The questions gnawed at him, threatening to break his resolve. But he quickly pushed them aside, forcing his focus back onto the task at hand.

If no one else could make this work, he would. He had to.

---

Jackson once again took the lead for the group as they made their way to the bunk area. Yoshimoto held the keys tightly in his hand, his knuckles pale with tension. Though the Lieutenant had said he had several keys, Yoshi knew he didn't want to waste one or set a bad example for the group.

Jackson stopped right in front of the door, the girls halting along with him. Geneva shifted, keeping Hannah close, her arm wrapped firmly around her friend to help her balance. Hannah's breathing was labored, and every step seemed to send waves of pain through her, though she kept her face as neutral as possible.

"Alright, Yoshi," Jackson said. His voice was steady, but there was a visible tremor in his posture. He looked at the door for a moment too long, his hand twitching slightly as if he wanted to hold Yoshi back.

It was too late. Yoshimoto slid the key into the lock, and the sharp metallic click echoed down the corridor. The door creaked open, revealing the darkened room beyond. Jackson winced as the overhead lights flickered to life, casting an artificial glow on the plain space inside.

"Well... it isn't exactly home," Yoshi said, stepping in cautiously, "but I guess it'll work for now."

The group entered the dank bunker, the air heavy with a faint smell of mildew and neglect. The flickering fluorescent lights did little to chase away the oppressive gloom, casting long shadows across the cramped space. Geneva guided Hannah to a nearby cot, gently easing her down despite the girl's near-lifeless state. Hannah's pale face was damp with sweat, and her breaths were shallow, uneven.

"Don't worry, Hannah... You're going to be okay," Geneva said softly, though her voice wavered. She tried to smile, but it barely reached her eyes. Her grip on Hannah's hand was firm, as if willing strength into her friend. Geneva thought back to her nursing studies, to everything she'd learned, but no textbook could have prepared her for this. Not for an infection like this.

Hannah didn't respond right away. Her head lolled slightly to the side, her vacant stare fixed on the dim ceiling. After a long pause, her voice finally broke through the silence-low, distant, and hollow.

"No... No, I'm not, Geneva." Her words were slow, deliberate. "I'm sick... I can feel it. And... even if I was to live... This isn't the life I want." She gestured weakly to the room around them, her eyes catching the chipped walls and the faintly flickering bulb. "What's the point of surviving... in a place like this?"

Geneva froze, her heart sinking at the despair in Hannah's voice. She didn't know what to say, what words could even begin to heal the fractures she saw growing in her best friend. Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to respond.

"I... I'm sorry, Hannah," Geneva whispered. Her voice was thick with emotion as she reached out again, clutching Hannah's hand tightly in hers. "I wish I could do more. I wish I could take all this pain away... But I won't let you go through this alone."

Hannah's grip tightened, startling Geneva with its sudden strength. For a moment, it was almost as though Hannah's body had forgotten its weakness, her nails digging into Geneva's skin. Geneva winced but didn't pull away, not wanting to hurt her further.

Hannah's eyes flicked toward her, glinting with something Geneva couldn't quite place-fear, anger, or perhaps something darker.

"The only way you can help me," Hannah said, her voice cold and distant, "is to leave me behind."

The words struck Geneva like a physical blow, leaving her breathless. "Hannah... Don't say that. I won't ever leave you! You're my best friend-you know that."

Hannah turned her face away, her expression unreadable. She didn't answer, but deep inside her mind, the words echoed darkly.

Then you shall die too...

Geneva shivered, the silence between them heavy and suffocating. She held onto Hannah's hand a moment longer before slowly releasing it, as if afraid her friend might shatter under her touch.

Yoshimoto and Jackson, standing on the other side of the room, exchanged uneasy glances. The air in the bunker was tense, thick with unspoken fears and doubts. Both men felt the same unspoken truth: Hannah's condition was more than physical, and it wasn't something they could fix with words-or even hope.

"Well... I would like to go fishing..." Yoshimoto said over to Jackson. Looking right into his eyes and distracting him from what the girls were saying on the other side of the room.

Jackson blinked his eyes just a few times. Before he then turned his head back over to Yoshi.

"Fishing? What the hell are you talking about? At a time like this!" Jackson said. As he almost wanted to laugh at what the Japanese man had said.

Though right now wasn't a very good time to be laughing. As he held himself in just as Yoshimoto spoke right back over to him.

"Yes... This place has electricity and we can store fish... That will be a very good food source in the future..." He said, as he then stood up from where he had been sitting on his own bunk.

Jackson looked at Yoshimoto a little bit surprised at first. But he then eventually nodded his head right back over to him.

"Well... I'd get a little sick eating fish all of the time but I see your plan..." Jackson said. Knowing that fish was one of his least favorite foods.

But his plan was still a good plan, and it would be a reliable source. One that would likely never go away. As he then nodded his head just as Yoshimoto spoke again.

"Well... I think we should let the girls sort their own thing out... And we should go fishing..." He said, as he then grabbed one of the fishing rods that had been laying on the wall.

Jackson still seemed to be a bit lost by all of this. But he then eventually blinked his eyes. And then got one for himself, not all too sure when the last time it was that he had gone fishing.

Probably when he had been with his ex-wife and children. As he seemed to close his eyes at that thought.

"Yeah... Let's go do that..." Jackson said back to Yoshimoto. As he then began to head over to the front door.

He knew that he needed to get out of this dark eery room. Going outside would be a certain escape.

"Oh! And look at this! A bow and some arrows! This is pretty refined and detailed as well!" He said, as he grabbed the nice looking bow.

He knew he had done a lot of archery back in Japan. Though it had been years since he had touched a bow. It still felt nice to hold one in his hand.