48

"Helen..."

Who is calling me?

The voice is so gentle, just like my mother's...

Mom...

I want to move toward the voice, but I can't.

Suddenly, the scene zooms out.

A large, heavy stone is pressing down on me...

I don't know how long it took, but I opened my eyes.

This was a room separated by curtains. Pipes crisscrossed overhead, and the bed was close to a gray cement wall.

I was back in the warehouse.

As my consciousness gradually returned, so did the pain.

It felt like my whole body had been disassembled and reassembled. But at least, all the parts were still in their original places.

Two voices drew closer.

"You should eat something. If you keep this up, Helen won't recover before you fall ill yourself."

"I know, I know, I'll eat later."

"Don't wait. I'll heat up the food. You need to eat now."

"There's no need, Zenith... Hey... Zenith Franklin—"

Apparently, the other party didn't heed her refusal.

Suddenly, the curtain was lifted, and bright sunlight poured in.

"Helen!" Anne paused for a moment, then rushed in. "You're awake!"

I nodded. My throat was dry and hoarse. It took me a while to find my voice.

"What time is it now?"

"March 11th. You've been unconscious for two days." Anne looked at me with concern. "Is there any discomfort?"

I gently shook my head. "What about Lucas Westwind..."

"Didn't wear his seatbelt. He's dead. I saw his body fly out through the windshield."

"And his brother? Did they really escape?"

"Of course not, it was a lie to trick him." Anne shook her head. "The bodies and weapons of his squad haven't even been counted yet. We'll have to wait for the zombie horde to disperse first."

She continued, "Simon Harper has been buried. One prisoner was executed, but Hudson Blake was kept."

"Hmm." I didn't ask further.

Zenith Franklin must have had his reasons for doing so.

Some people clung to the base, some were recruited by violent organizations.

There was no right or wrong; everyone was just trying to survive.

"It seems everything is settled. I'll sleep a bit more then, so I don't disturb you and Captain Franklin."

"Nonsense." She looked at me oddly. "Don't tarnish our pure friendship."

"Why are you so agitated?" I continued to tease her. "Aren't you really considering it?"

Zenith Franklin had handsome features and a tall, upright figure. His military uniform made him look righteous and stern.

He was like a gentle blade.

Not all swords were made for killing; some were for protection.

"Oh, stop it." Anne shook her head like a rattle. "If you spent a few days with him, you'd know. He's naggier than my mom."

I smiled, but the smile tugged at my wounds, making me wince in pain.

"Where's Chris?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"He just got off shift. He probably hasn't slept yet. Want me to call him?"

"No, no, let him rest." I remembered his sour face. If we met, I'd likely just get scolded.

At this moment, Zenith Franklin lifted the curtain and walked in. "Anne, come with me—" He paused, seeing me awake.

"Thank you for all your help these days, Captain Franklin."

"Don't mention it."

Seeing his right hand in a bandage reminded me of the confrontation.

Lucas Westwind was a ruthless man, but in terms of courage, Anne wasn't lacking either.

"You dared to demand a hostage exchange with a gun pointed at you," I glared at Anne with lingering fear, "you're something else."

"What?" Zenith Franklin raised his voice.

Anne sheepishly scratched her ear. "Anyway, it didn't affect the plan, so don't worry about the details..."

Hmm?

It seemed someone hadn't completely followed orders.

I seized the opportunity to send them away. "Alright, you go have your meal with Captain Franklin."

"Alright, alright." Anne grumbled as she got up and walked out, hesitating as she lifted the curtain.

"Why aren't you coming in?" She spoke to someone outside.

"I was waiting for you to finish talking." Chris's voice came from the doorway.

Oh no.

I immediately closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.

But...

when did he arrive?

Could he have heard me talking?

Thinking of this, I peeked through a slit in my eyes.

Chris sat across from me. "Awake?"

He didn't expose my act.

"How do you feel? Does it hurt?"

I pitifully nodded, hoping he wouldn't scold me too harshly considering my injuries.

"I'll get a hot water bag." He stood up. "The doctor said you have soft tissue contusions and need hot compresses."

"Wait," I grabbed him, "aren't you mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" Chris asked knowingly.

"Of course, for not listening to you."

Before being taken, he had specifically told us not to act rashly.

"You two are really something," Chris shook his head, "always coming up with ideas at critical moments."

"Well, it's because we've been influenced by you, Captain." I flattered him.

I knew Chris could only do so much this time.

He couldn't set up any "plan," only look for "opportunities."

He then recounted everything that happened that day.

After entering the warehouse, everything outside went smoothly.

Anne moved all the bottled water to the edge of the escalator, which took a lot of time. Next, they rolled the water barrels down the escalator one by one.

After Old Grant blew the whistle, Lucas Westwind's team reacted quickly and prepared to return the way they came.

However, their ladder was temporary and far from sturdy. Adding a 20-pound water barrel made it impossible for them to proceed.

"During the retreat, did Lucas Westwind tamper with the door?" I remembered.

"Yes, he tied a glass bottle to the handle. Anyone opening the door from inside would cause the bottle to fall."

I see. Not sure if he carried it with him or picked it up from the table.

Lucas Westwind was smart and ruthless, a formidable enemy.

Yet, he was also full of contradictions.

Towards others, he was ready to kill without hesitation, not even kind to his teammates. But mention his brother, and he became a different person.

I often wondered: Could such an antisocial personality lacking empathy feel love or familial affection? If he could, why didn't he realize he was killing someone else's brother, someone else's son? But these questions would never be answered. They were sealed forever with Lucas Westwind's death.

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