Doomsday survivalist: A Guide to Servive!
Rule 10: Target
The group filed out of Mike's safehouse into the humid night air, the kind that clung to your skin and made every breath feel heavier. Rayco walked a step behind the others, his mind churning like an engine that wouldn't quit. The determination he'd felt back in the room was still there, solid in his gut, but underneath it sat that old, familiar dread—the same one that had crawled up his spine right before the Tyrant had ended him last time. Not panic. Just the quiet knowledge that one wrong move could unravel everything.
Elisia fell in beside him, her shoulder brushing his. She didn't say anything at first, just matched his pace, her fingers twitching like she wanted to grab his hand but thought better of it. The faint scent of antiseptic from earlier still lingered on her, mixing with the distant smell of rain on concrete.
"You okay?" she finally asked, voice low enough that only he could hear.
Rayco glanced at her. Her eyes were steady now, no more tears from yesterday, but the worry lines around them hadn't faded. "Yeah. As okay as I can be when the guy who tortured me for fun has the one scientist we need locked in his pocket."
She let out a soft huff that wasn't quite a laugh. "We knew this was going to get messy. But... hearing it out loud like that. It hits different."
Jake overheard and slowed down to join them, his usual swagger dialed back a notch. "Messy is putting it lightly. We're talking government shadow games while the world's about to freeze over. Feels like we're playing chess with a guy who already ate half the board."
Marcus, walking ahead with Ghelle and Cyrus, glanced back. "Less talking, more moving. Mike's got a lead on one of Suarez's old lab assistants. Quiet meet-up in an hour."
The drive to the rendezvous point was tense, the van's tires humming over cracked roads while the city lights flickered past like dying stars. Rayco stared out the window, watching the streets blur. In his first timeline, cities like this had emptied out fast once the ice set in—cars abandoned, buildings gutted for firewood. Now they were still full of people going about their nights, oblivious. He rubbed the fading bruise on his cheek and felt the weight of every second ticking by.
The meet-up was in a dingy back room of a closed noodle shop, the kind of place that smelled like old oil and desperation. Mike's contact was a wiry woman named Lena, mid-forties, with nervous hands that kept fiddling with a cigarette she never lit. She slid a thumb drive across the table without preamble.
"Suarez isn't at any official site," she said, eyes darting to the door every few seconds. "Solerno's got him in a private facility out near the old port warehouses. High security, but not impossible. I overheard him complaining about the cold storage units they installed—something about keeping samples stable."
Ghelle leaned forward, her voice calm but sharp. "Samples of what? The creature?"
Lena shrugged. "Didn't say. But Suarez looked... off. Like he hadn't slept in weeks. Kept muttering about ethical boundaries when he thought no one was listening."
Rayco's stomach twisted. He could picture it too clearly—the sterile lights, the man in a lab coat realizing too late he'd sold his soul to the devil with a government title. Emotions surged up unbidden: anger at Solerno for moving so fast, pity for Suarez, and a deep, bone-weary fear that this was how it started last time. Small choices snowballing into catastrophe.
"We need eyes on that facility tonight," Rayco said, his voice steady despite the churn inside. "Not a raid. Just recon. If we tip our hand, he'll move Suarez somewhere worse."
Mike nodded from the corner, arms crossed. "My team's got drones. We'll map the perimeter. You all stay back—last thing we need is Solerno connecting more dots to your crew."
Jake cracked his knuckles, a restless energy in his posture. "And if we spot an opening?"
"We take it smart," Rayco cut in, meeting each of their eyes. "No hero shit. We've got one shot at pulling Suarez out before he builds whatever nightmare Solerno wants. Remember, this isn't just about a cure. It's about stopping a weaponized outbreak before it begins."
The words hung there. Elisia reached over and squeezed his knee under the table, a small anchor in the storm. For a second, the touch cut through the dread, reminding him why he was fighting this time instead of dying alone. Not just survival. People. This ragged family he'd somehow built.
They split up after that. Rayco and Elisia took a quiet corner of the safehouse to go over old notes from his timeline—scraps of paper with half-remembered details about Suarez's work. The room was dimly lit, just a single bulb swaying overhead, casting long shadows across the walls.
"You really think we can pull him out?" Elisia asked, her head close to his as they studied the papers. Her breath was warm against his shoulder, and there was a vulnerability in her voice she rarely showed.
Rayco set the notes down and looked at her properly. The fear was there in her eyes, but so was steel. "We have to. Last time, without him, the virus mutated faster than anyone could handle. Whole settlements wiped out because cures were always one step behind." He paused, the memory of screams echoing in his head. "But this time... we've got you. Jake. Everyone. That's the difference."
She smiled faintly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "And you. Don't forget that part." Her hand lingered on his arm a moment longer than necessary before she pulled back, cheeks faintly flushed.
Outside, the night deepened. Mike's drone feed came in patchy on a laptop screen—grainy images of chain-link fences, armed patrols moving in precise patterns, and a squat building that looked innocent until you noticed the reinforced doors and blackout windows. Solerno's shadow stretched long.
"Two guards at the east gate," Cyrus muttered, peering over Ghelle's shoulder. "Looks like shift change in twenty."
Rayco felt the pull of action, that familiar itch to move before the enemy did. But he held back. Patience had kept him alive longer than bravery ever had. "We watch. We wait. Then we hit when it counts."
Hours dragged. Tension built in the group like a coiled spring—Jake pacing, Marcus checking weapons for the third time, Ghelle organizing supply lists with quiet efficiency. Rayco sat apart for a moment, leg aching from old habit, replaying the Tyrant's smile in his mind. Solerno had those same eyes. Cold. Patient.
A crackle from the radio pulled him back.
"Contact," Mike's voice came through, tight. "Solerno's men just loaded a truck. Looks like a transfer. Suarez might be on the move."
Rayco stood up fast, adrenaline sharpening everything. "This is it. We follow. But stay dark—no engagement unless we have no choice."
The team mobilized in a blur of motion. Engines rumbled low as they peeled out into the night, tailing at a distance. Rain started spitting down, slicking the roads and turning the chase into a game of shadows and blurred taillights.
Elisia rode shotgun next to Rayco, her hand finding his briefly in the dark cabin. "Whatever happens," she whispered, "we do this together."
He nodded, squeezing back, the warmth of her touch fighting back the cold dread. The truck ahead turned toward the outskirts, heading into warehouse territory where the city lights gave way to looming silhouettes and empty lots.
This wasn't the endgame. Not even close. But as the pursuit tightened, Rayco felt something shift inside him. Fear was still there, raw and real. But so was purpose. This time, he wouldn't be left behind. This time, they would strike first.
The rain fell harder, washing the streets clean for whatever came next.
The rain hammered the windshield like it had a personal grudge, turning the world outside into a smeared mess of neon and shadow. Rayco gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles pale against the worn leather, his eyes locked on the faint red glow of the truck's taillights ahead. Every splash of water under the tires felt like a countdown. His heart thudded steady but heavy in his chest—not the wild panic of his first death, but that deep, gnawing dread that never really left. The kind that whispered the Tyrant's smile in the back of his mind.
Elisia sat rigid beside him, her seatbelt pulled taut across her chest. She kept glancing at the side mirror, then at him, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on her knee. The warmth from her hand earlier in the safehouse still lingered on his skin, a small defiance against the chill seeping through the van's vents. "They're not speeding up," she said quietly, voice barely cutting over the wipers. "Like they don't even know we're here. Or they don't care."
"Or they want us to follow," Rayco muttered. The thought sat cold in his gut. Solerno didn't make sloppy moves. That man played games with people's lives the way the Tyrant had toyed with its prey—slow, deliberate, savoring the setup.
Jake leaned forward from the back seat, his breath warm on Rayco's neck. "Two more vans just peeled off from that side street. Mike's team is boxing them in loose. We stay back, right? No cowboy shit?"
"Right," Rayco said, forcing his voice even. But inside, frustration boiled. In his old timeline, hesitation like this had cost him everything. Lisa and Carlos's faces flashed—wide-eyed panic as they shot his leg and ran. He shoved it down. Not this time. These people weren't leaving him behind. They were here, breathing the same damp air, trusting him to steer them through.
The warehouses loomed ahead like forgotten giants, rusted metal siding streaked with years of neglect, puddles reflecting the weak security lights in oily ripples. The truck slowed, turning into a gated lot flanked by chain-link and coiled razor wire. Rayco killed the headlights and pulled the van into the shadow of an abandoned loading dock two blocks back. The engine ticked down to silence, leaving only the rain and their breathing.
Ghelle's voice crackled low over the comms from the second vehicle. "Drones are up. Three heat signatures in the truck cab. One's smaller—could be Suarez. Loading dock's got four guards. Armed. Looks routine."
Marcus cursed under his breath from the back. "Routine for what? Shipping apocalypse parts?"
Cyrus shifted, checking his pistol with a soft click. "We move on foot from here?"
Rayco nodded, already reaching for the door handle. The rain hit him like needles as he stepped out, soaking through his jacket in seconds. It carried that sharp, metallic tang of the port—salt, diesel, and decay. His leg ached from old memory, a phantom throb that made him favor it slightly as they crept along the fence line. Elisia stayed close, her shoulder bumping his arm now and then, a silent reminder that he wasn't alone in the dark.
They crouched behind a stack of rotting pallets, water dripping from the edges onto their necks. Up ahead, the truck's rear doors yawned open. Guards in dark rain gear moved with practiced efficiency, hauling a metal crate that looked too heavy for one man. A figure stumbled out next—thin, disheveled, glasses fogged by the downpour. Dr. Suarez. Even from this distance, Rayco could see the slump in his shoulders, the way his hands trembled as a guard prodded him toward the building.
"There," Rayco whispered, emotions knotting tight in his throat. Relief mixed with anger—this was the man who could change everything, reduced to a pawn. "He's alive. But we can't rush it. One guard's got a radio. If he calls it in—"
A shout cut him off. Not from their side. One of the guards spun toward the shadows near the gate, rifle up. "Movement! Check it!"
Mike's voice hissed over comms: "Drone spotted. They're onto us. Fall back or—shit, contact!"
Chaos erupted fast. Two of Mike's men broke cover from the far side, drawing fire. Bullets cracked through the rain, sharp and wet-sounding as they smacked into metal. Rayco's pulse spiked. He grabbed Elisia's arm and pulled her lower. "Stay down!"
Jake was already moving, low and fast, circling toward a side entrance. "Cover me! I'll flank!"
Rayco cursed and pushed forward, rain stinging his eyes. A guard pivoted their way—young face, wide with adrenaline. Rayco didn't hesitate. He lunged from the pallets, shoulder slamming into the man's midsection before the rifle could swing around. They hit the wet concrete hard, rolling in a tangle of limbs and splashing puddles. The guard swung an elbow that clipped Rayco's jaw, sending fresh pain blooming across his face. Rayco tasted blood, but he drove a knee up into the guy's ribs, once, twice, feeling the give of bone under the impact. The man gasped, loosening his grip. Rayco wrenched the rifle away and cracked the stock against his temple—efficient, ugly. The guard went limp.
Elisia was right there, breathing hard, pistol out but hands steady enough. "Rayco—behind you!"
Another guard charged through the sheets of rain, boots slapping puddles. Rayco rose to meet him, the world narrowing to moves and counters. The man fired wild—bullet whined past Rayco's ear. Rayco closed the distance quick, grabbing the barrel and yanking it sideways while driving his fist into the guard's throat. Choke, twist, slam the knee into the gut. The guard folded, retching, and Rayco finished it with a precise strike to the neck that dropped him cold. His hands shook afterward, not from fear exactly, but from the raw memory of how these fights used to end for him—alone, torn apart.
Jake's voice carried over the din. "Got one down! Suarez is heading inside—"
Gunfire rattled from the building. Mike's team pressed the advantage, but Rayco could feel the window closing. Solerno's people were disciplined, falling back in formation rather than scattering. This wasn't a random crew. It was planned.
Elisia reached Suarez first as the scientist cowered near the crate, soaked and wide-eyed with terror. "Doctor! We're here to get you out—"
Suarez flinched like she'd slapped him. "Solerno... he'll find me. The samples—the modifications—"
Rayco hauled the man up by the arm, gentle but firm, feeling the frailty there. The doctor's fear mirrored his own old dread, the kind that came from seeing too much. "We know. That's why we're here. Move!"
They retreated in a messy scramble, dragging Suarez between them while covering fire popped behind. The rain masked some of the noise, turning the escape into a blur of splashing footsteps and labored breaths. Back at the vans, doors slammed, engines roared to life. Rayco floored it, tires fishtailing on the slick asphalt as they peeled away from the warehouses.
In the rearview, headlights flickered but didn't close the gap immediately. Elisia twisted in her seat, checking on Suarez huddled in the back with Ghelle pressing a hand to a graze on his arm. The doctor's eyes met Rayco's in the mirror—haunted, calculating.
"You don't understand," Suarez rasped, voice breaking over the engine. "What he's making... it's not a cure. It's evolution."
Rayco's grip tightened on the wheel, the cold dread settling deeper. But beside it burned something fiercer: resolve. They'd snatched a piece from Solerno's board tonight. Bloodied knuckles, soaked clothes, and all. Elisia's hand found his again in the dark, squeezing hard, her touch warm and alive. For a moment, amid the adrenaline crash and the patter of rain, he let himself feel it—the fragile hope that this family, this second chance, might actually hold.
But the night wasn't done with them. Far behind, more lights joined the pursuit.
The rain had turned into a full-blown downpour, sheets of it slashing across the road and turning the escape into a slippery nightmare. Rayco kept the van steady, eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the dark stretch ahead. His knuckles were white on the wheel, the fresh ache from the fight at the warehouse throbbing in time with his pulse. Elisia sat tense beside him, her hand still gripping his briefly before she let go to check her pistol. In the back, Dr. Suarez huddled low, his breathing ragged and shallow, like a man who'd already seen his own grave.
"They're falling back," Jake called from the rear, peering through the rain-streaked window. "Mike's team is cutting them off—"
But the words died in his throat. Headlights bloomed behind them. Not one set. Two. Then three. Black vans, sleek and unmarked, emerging from side streets like sharks smelling blood. They didn't have plates. They didn't need to.
"More company," Rayco growled, his stomach twisting. That cold dread from the Tyrant days clawed up again—patient, calculating eyes watching from the dark. "Hold on."
He floored it, the engine roaring in protest as the van fishtailed on the wet asphalt. Elisia braced against the dash, her face pale but jaw set. "Rayco, they're gaining. Fast."
One of the black vans surged forward, its high beams cutting through the rain like knives. It slammed into their rear bumper with a bone-jarring crunch. Metal screamed, sparks flying as the impact shoved their van forward. Rayco fought the wheel, tires hydroplaning for a sickening second before they bit again. Suarez cried out in the back, slamming against the seat.
"They're not Solerno's!" Mike's voice crackled over the comms, distorted by static and the storm. "I see the markings—different plates, different mods. That's opposition muscle, and... shit, one's got foreign tags. Chinese gear?"
Another van veered in from the left, ramming their side with brutal force. The world tilted. Rayco's shoulder slammed into the door as glass cracked in the window beside Elisia. She gasped, grabbing for the oh-shit handle. Jake cursed and returned fire through a cracked rear window, the shots muffled by the rain but sharp enough to echo.
"Multiple factions," Mike confirmed, his own vehicle somewhere in the chaos behind them. "They're not coordinating with each other—they're all gunning for the same prize. Suarez. Everybody wants the damn scientist."
Rayco's mind raced. In his first timeline, it had been simpler: zombies and survival. Now it was this web of human greed, factions circling like vultures before the ice even hit. The realization hit hard— they weren't just escaping Solerno anymore. They were the target for all of them. His chest tightened with that old fear, the memory of being left behind, leg useless, the Tyrant's shadow closing in. But Elisia's quick glance at him, her hand steadying on his arm for a split second, grounded him. Not alone this time.
"Brace!" Rayco shouted as the lead black van pulled alongside, matching their speed on the flooded road. Its side door slid open mid-chase, a masked figure leaning out with a rifle. Muzzle flash lit the rain like lightning.
Bullets punched into their van's flank—pinging off metal, shattering the side mirror in a spray of plastic and glass. Rayco swerved hard right, clipping the attacker's van and forcing it to brake. The impact jarred his teeth, pain flaring in his already bruised ribs. Elisia twisted in her seat, firing back through her broken window. Her shots were precise, controlled— one caught the shooter's shoulder, sending him reeling inside.
But they weren't done. Another black van from a rival crew slammed into Mike's ride farther back. Rayco caught the flash in the mirror: Mike's team returning fire in a chaotic exchange, vehicles weaving like drunks on the slick highway. Horns blared, but the storm swallowed most of it.
"Jake, cover the rear!" Rayco barked, his voice rough with adrenaline and that buried dread. He downshifted, trying to lose them in a tight turn toward the industrial underpass ahead. Water rooster-tailed from the tires.
Jake leaned out, pistol barking in controlled bursts. One shot took out a pursuing van's front tire— the vehicle fishtailed wildly, slamming into a guardrail with a grinding screech of metal on concrete. But the others kept coming, relentless.
A third van, this one bulkier with reinforced plating, rammed them from behind again. The jolt was vicious. Rayco's head snapped forward, vision blurring for a heartbeat. Elisia reached over instinctively, her fingers digging into his jacket as if to anchor him. "Stay with me," she whispered fiercely, voice trembling with fear but laced with something warmer, fiercer— the same pull that had been building between them since he got back.
Suarez was muttering in the back, half-delirious. "They all want the samples... the modifications... it'll spread faster than the ice..."
Ghelle's voice cut in over comms from her vehicle. "Mike, we've got three more converging! This is turning into a damn convoy war!"
Mike's response was clipped, breathless. "Confirmed. Opposition, foreign ops, and Solerno's shadows— all after the doctor. We are the common enemy now. Split up at the next junction. Rayco, take the east exit. We'll draw some off."
The underpass loomed, concrete pillars blurring past. A black van tried to cut them off from the front, forcing Rayco into a desperate maneuver. He yanked the wheel left, then right, clipping the attacker's bumper in a shower of sparks. The enemy van spun, but its partner opened fire— bullets ricocheting off the roof, one punching through the rear door near Cyrus's position.
Cyrus grunted in pain but kept shooting back, the exchange a messy dance of acceleration, braking, and counter-swerves. Rayco felt every impact in his bones, the van shuddering like it might fall apart. His leg throbbed from the old wound, phantom pain mixing with the real chaos. Emotions churned— raw anger at these factions turning the night into a kill zone, fear for the people counting on him, and a stubborn spark of hope that burned hotter because of Elisia's presence beside him, her breathing synced with his in the frenzy.
They burst out of the underpass, the road splitting. Rayco peeled east as instructed, the remaining black vans dividing their attention. One slammed into a rival crew instead, turning the pursuit into a three-way brawl of screeching tires and gunfire.
"They're peeling off some," Jake reported, reloading with shaking hands. Sweat and rain mixed on his face. "But this isn't over."
Rayco exhaled shakily, glancing at Elisia. Her eyes met his— scared, yes, but alive with that shared resolve. The warmth of her earlier touch lingered, cutting through the cold dread. They'd grabbed Suarez, but now every shadow faction in the city had them in their sights. The apocalypse hadn't even started, and already the knives were out.
Mike's voice came through again, strained. "Regroup at the secondary safe point. Watch your backs. They're all coming for us now."
The rain kept falling, washing blood and tire marks from the road, but the real storm was just beginning.
To be continued.