Under Marcus's calm persuasion, the few young men who had learned the so-called truth finally agreed to end their discussion and disperse. They promised each other to keep what they'd seen a secret.
But as Marcus knew all too well, asking several people to share such a shocking secret—and expecting them all to stay silent—was nothing more than wishful thinking.
Within ten minutes, the rumor he had so carefully planted had spread like wildfire.
It was almost too easy.
Blaming the zombie outbreak on the U.S. government required little effort; letting such gossip spread naturally in a small, frightened community was even easier. Human nature would do the rest. People rarely seek proof or logic. They believe what they want to believe.
The blame had been successfully placed—and the weight of it now rested firmly on the shoulders of the American government.
Hawkeye began to notice the change almost immediately. The glances people gave him were no longer those of admiration and gratitude. Where once he had been a hero, now he was the subject of suspicion and unease.
Even some of the believers—the "faithful" who followed Alex—looked at him with open disgust.
"What's going on?" Hawkeye demanded, catching the arm of one of the survivors who had once idolized him—a young man named Bobby, who, unbeknownst to Hawkeye, had been among those who saw the forged documents.
Grabbing the man by the collar, Hawkeye pulled him close. "Bobby, tell me—what happened?"
"Didn't you hear?" the young man stammered. "The zombie virus… it was created by the U.S. military! The government did this to us!"
"Enough!"
Hawkeye's roar silenced the entire supermarket. Every eye turned toward him—some shocked, others doubtful, many cold and judging.
He looked around at the crowd, anger and disbelief mixing in his voice. "Who's been spreading these lies? I swear on my title as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.—the government never conducted any experiments related to this virus!"
But the room remained heavy with silence. The crowd exchanged uncertain glances, unwilling to meet his eyes.
Finally, the young man who had originally found the "military file" lowered his head and muttered, "It was me. I found the documents on a doctor's body at the pharmacy. I'm sorry, Hawkeye, but the people have a right to know the truth."
The words struck like a blade.
Americans' obsession with "the right to know" could be terrifying. No matter how ugly or dangerous the truth might be, they believed it must be revealed—regardless of the cost. Few questioned whether what they knew was even real.
And once a lie was believed by enough people, it no longer needed to be true.
Hawkeye knew this better than anyone. He took a sharp breath and demanded, "Where is it? That file—I want to see it. I can prove it's fake. Classified military files aren't just left lying around in a random pharmacy! Show it to me!"
"It's gone," Marcus interjected smoothly before anyone else could speak.
All eyes turned to him.
Marcus's tone was calm, even remorseful, as he met Hawkeye's stunned gaze. "I burned it. I didn't want panic to spread, but it seems I was too late. I'm sorry, Hawkeye—I only wanted to protect everyone. But… what's done is done."
The perfect excuse.
In that moment, Hawkeye saw him as nothing more than a well-meaning young man who'd acted too rashly. He didn't realize that Marcus's entire goal had been to fabricate this lie—to frame the government, to isolate Hawkeye, to fracture the fragile trust holding the group together.
And now, with the fake file reduced to ash, Hawkeye had no evidence to defend his country. No proof could clear their name.
It was the perfect trap.
---
"Yes! It's them! The government!"
A voice rose from the back of the crowd, slow and venomous, dripping with hatred.
Everyone turned.
Alex stood there, his sunken eyes gleaming with a serpent's cold fury. He pointed directly at Hawkeye's forehead, his finger trembling with righteous conviction.
"You always knew the truth, didn't you?" Alex shouted. "You lied to us. But the Lord sees all! This is your punishment—the sin of men who dared to play God, who touched what was forbidden! You've brought His wrath upon us!"
"Enough, Alex!" Marcus's voice rang out sharply, cutting across the chaos.
But this time, he didn't rush to strike him as before. Instead, he stood before the crowd, his face tight with anger, yet his words controlled and steady.
"Everyone—listen to me! Have you all forgotten what Hawkeye's done for you? From the first day of the outbreak, he stayed here to protect us. He gave up his rescue helicopter to save the injured and the children! When Armstrong and I were trapped, he risked his life to pull us out! And just now, he led a team into the pharmacy to bring back medicine so that Armstrong could live! If you turn on him now—if you doubt a man like him—then who in this world is left worth trusting?"
His speech cut through the tension like a blade through fog.
Some of the survivors looked ashamed, their eyes softening as they remembered everything Hawkeye had done for them. But not all were convinced.
Many, especially Alex's followers, glared back with growing hostility. To them, Marcus's defense of Hawkeye was just another trick—another government lie.
---
Alex spread his arms, turning toward his supporters. His voice rose again, booming like a preacher's sermon.
"'Protect us?' That's what he says?" Alex sneered. "That's what the government always says: We act for the good of the people. But look where their protection has brought us!"
He paced slowly through the crowd, his shadow stretching long under the dim lights.
"They defied the Lord's will! They tampered with the secret of life itself—and we are the price! Judgment has come upon this world, and the sinners who mocked the Almighty have become the monsters that devour it! This—" he thrust his finger again toward Hawkeye "—this is their doing! They are the blasphemers who doomed mankind!"
The crowd erupted.
The uncertainty in their eyes hardened into rage. Shouts of agreement broke out, growing louder, angrier. The mob had found its scapegoat.
Several of Alex's zealots pushed forward, faces twisted with fury, ready to strike.
The division was complete.
The survivors—once a united group—were now split cleanly in two: the pragmatists led by Marcus and Hawkeye, and the faithful led by Alex.
And for the first time, bloodshed between humans seemed closer than the threat of the undead outside.
Marcus stepped forward again, raising his hands to hold back the oncoming believers. "Enough!" he shouted. "I don't care who's right or wrong about this 'divine punishment' nonsense—but I know one thing: we all owe our lives to Hawkeye! Without him, we'd all be dead—and so would Armstrong!"
The mention of Armstrong's name struck like a spark in the darkness.
Alex froze. Then, slowly, a chilling smile crept across his face.
"You think you saved him?" he said softly, his tone thick with mockery. "No. You didn't save a man—you brought back a demon."
"AAAHHHHHH!!!"
A scream ripped through the air—loud, piercing, and horribly familiar.
It came from the direction of Armstrong's bed.
Every survivor turned at once, dread crawling down their spines.
____
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