“No one’s getting past Dante,” I tell Josh as we step into the street.
He lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, with that guy’s size? I believe it.”
We’ve been walking for about an hour, maybe more. Hard to tellwith the sun pinned up high and silence chewing at my nerves. I keep scanning the tree line, waiting for that gut-punch instinct to kick in. Josh seems legit, but hell, what does“legit”even look like anymore?
“So, that place you mentioned… for my family. Is it real?”
Josh doesn’t meet our eyes. He talks to the dirt, eyes flicking up only to watch the path ahead like it might betray him.
“It’s real,” I say, stepping closer. “Old farm. House is still standing. Needs work, windows, and cleanup, but it’s safe. Secluded.”
I touch his shoulder, trying to reassure him, and he flinches hard, like he thought I was about to swing. Fuck. I freeze for a beat before I speak again. “We’re not lying, man. We’ve got wind fans hooked to a battery. Enough to power lights, maybe a radio, that kind of thing.”
His eyes go wide. “Seriously?”
Knox huffs a low chuckle beside me. “Yeah. You’ll still have to hike to the well for water, though. We’re not miracle workers.”
Josh nods so fast it’s like his head might pop off. “I don’t care. Just the idea of my wife and kid sleeping under a roof again, with the lights on…”
He releases a deep breath, and something in my chest tightens.
“We never thought we’d have kids,” he murmurs. “Before the plague, doctors told us it wasn’t likely.”
“And then she got pregnant after,” Knox says quietly.
Josh nods. “We never would’ve chosen to bring a child into this mess. I was scared she wouldn’t survive the birth. But we were in acommunity back then. They had a nurse. Things just… worked.”
Fuck. I can’t even picture it. The fear. The helplessness. Thehope.
Women, they’re made of something different. Stronger. Fiercer.
“Your wife’s a warrior,” Knox says, giving Josh a firm pat on the back. Josh swallows hard, his pride bleeding through the cracks.
A burst of laughter cuts through the air.
I don’t hesitate. I grab Josh and pull him behind a tree. “Stay down.”
He whispers, “It’s them.”
Peeking around the trunk, he points to a duffel on the ground. It’s zipped now, but if he’s right about what’s inside, we’re risking it.
Knox signals me, and we guide Josh to a spot deeper in the trees. Safe enough for now.
“If we don’t come back, you run.” I toss my bag down and draw my gun. Knife slides into my other hand.
Knox towers beside me, calm as ever. “Don’t be a fucking hero,” he tells Josh, eyes pinned to his.
Josh nods, swallowing his panic.
Time to move.
We crouch on a slope above the camp, half-covered by brush. I count five. Same as Josh said. All men. Loud, cocky. That kind of laughter that only comes when people think they’re safe.
They’re not.
One’s leaned back against a log, half asleep with a rifle beside him. Another’s stripping down a handgun, not even watching the tree line. The other three are grouped by a half-dead fire, passing abottle, chewing on whatever the fuck is left in this world to chew on.
I flick my eyes at Knox. He gives one nod, and we split without a word. I circle left, keeping low, steps slow and exact. These boots have walked through shit, ash, and blood. They won’t make a sound now.
