"Shrieek!"
A red-eyed Runner flailed its arms amid the cluttered shopping center, fixated on the tall, dark-skinned human before it. Baring blood-caked teeth, it lunged to punish this intruder who'd dared trespass on its territory.
BOOM.
Before it could close the distance, the man raised a double-barreled shotgun and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The blast tore away half the Runner's skull.
The Infected's body crumpled — first to its knees, then flat on the floor. Dead.
Wade surveyed the dozen or so Runners scattered around him, checked the surrounding area, and finally let himself exhale. He wiped the sweat from his brow and lowered the shotgun.
His time in the field was still limited. Having grown up inside the Quarantine Zone, he'd barely encountered Infected before. Facing a group of them alone still made his pulse race and his palms sweat.
He still remembered the terror of his first encounter. The trembling hands on his first kill. The paralyzing shock of his first human kill.
If he hadn't been lucky enough to get a squad leader who'd helped him face his fears and work through the aftermath, he might not have survived this long in any other unit.
Shaking off the spiraling thoughts, Wade keyed his radio. "Kim, I've cleared the upper floors. How's your side?"
"All clear down here. Come on down."
"Copy."
Wade scanned the area one final time before heading for the escalator. Now that the adrenaline had faded, he actually took in his surroundings. Aside from the curved atrium being more rectangular and the ground floor having clothing racks and display poles, this place was eerily similar to the shopping center they'd come from — even the decorations were similar.
Reaching the ground floor, he picked his way through debris and Infected corpses until he found the entrance to a convenience store.
Inside, Kim Seong-min sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully packing powder into a hollow pipe. Bottles and containers flanked his left side; four or five completed devices stood on his right, each trailing a length of fuse.
Wade crouched beside him and picked up one of the finished pipes, examining it with wide eyes. "So this is what you've been doing? Are these... bombs?"
"Pipe bombs." Kim glanced up, confirming the guess with characteristic economy.
"You can make bombs?"
"Never had reason to before." Kim paused his work, giving Wade a look that said obviously. "The materials are hard to come by — use them once and they're gone. As long as the QZ keeps us supplied, there's no point wasting these. And..." A self-deprecating smile crossed his face. "Why do you think our dear squad leader, with that personality of his, specifically recruited me?"
Wade thought back over their previous missions. Norman was a crack shot. Elton was small, agile, and practically invisible — a born scout. Mike could fix any vehicle blindfolded. Even Wade himself served as the brute-force solution when heavy obstacles blocked their path. But Kim had always seemed... average. The reliable second-in-command, nothing more.
Well, damn. The quietest member of the squad was actually the most dangerous.
Sheepishly recalling all the times he'd privately underestimated Kim, Wade scratched his head. "Yeah... makes sense."
"Alright, that's the last one. Let's head down, set up the ground floor, and call the others in."
Kim carefully sealed every bottle and container, stowing them in his pack with meticulous care. These materials weren't a huge portion of his total stockpile, but they were precious enough that he refused to waste even a trace.
At the mention of "setting up," Wade's expression shifted to unease. The truth was, he still struggled with the idea of killing people.
Especially now, after Norman's report — twenty-five hostiles incoming. The thought of what tonight would require settled over him like a weight.
Kim noticed the change. He looked at Wade's face, read the conflict there, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "This isn't something we want. They're the ones who came looking for trouble. We're just defending ourselves."
Wade took a deep breath, nodded firmly, and followed Kim downstairs.
...
5:00 PM
"Hurry up — it'll be dark soon."
As the sun sank westward and the convoy rolled into the shopping center, Cindy hopped off the cargo truck and stretched, pretending to loosen up while her eyes swept the interior, searching for the soldiers who'd gone out earlier.
She'd been embedded with the convoy all day. The four soldiers left behind seemed like green recruits — flustered, clumsy, practically shaking in their boots when Infected showed up. They'd managed to put them down, but the whole thing had looked like a struggle.
Cindy's guard had been dropping steadily. When no one was looking, she jotted down her intelligence on a scrap of paper and tossed it into a corner. She knew their people were watching the convoy — someone would collect it soon.
Her primary objectives now were to assess the remaining soldiers' capabilities and to slip the sedatives into their dinner. And the opportunity landed in her lap faster than expected.
"Cindy — um, would you mind cooking dinner tonight?"
She'd barely stepped inside the shopping center when Mike's voice reached her, accompanied by his sheepish, apologetic grin.
She paused, processing. Her eyes lit up — but she made a show of hesitating before reluctantly agreeing.
Following his directions, Cindy threaded through racks and shelving until she reached a cleared area in the center of the ground floor. The only open space was this central zone and the path leading to the entrance; everything else was crammed with clutter. These soldiers had only bothered clearing the essentials.
She approached the crackling campfire where a pot already sat bubbling, and began adding ingredients, all while scanning her surroundings.
Soon enough, she spotted the returning soldiers. They were filthy — disheveled and haggard, looking like they'd been dragged through hell. The one called Bryan, who'd questioned her yesterday, looked worst of all.
If only one or two of them had looked this rough, she might have attributed it to a bad Infected encounter. But all of them? It confirmed what she'd suspected — fresh recruits, barely trained, playing soldier.
Her guard, already low, dropped to zero. She dismissed them entirely.
So yesterday was all just an act.
With the threat assessment complete, Cindy moved to her real mission. She palmed the pills she'd received the night before and, when nobody was looking, crushed them into the pot.
After dinner was ready, she ladled stew into bowls for everyone, smiling pleasantly as she watched them drink every last drop.
Then she waited.
One by one, they settled onto the ground and fell into heavy sleep. As minutes turned to an hour, the sound of snoring filled the shopping center. Even the soldier on watch was nodding off.
Cindy rose silently. She moved from person to person, checking their state. They were asleep — but fitfully. Some showed signs of waking at any moment.
The drugs had been stored too long; the potency had degraded. She didn't dare touch them for fear of startling someone awake. Cursing under her breath, she knew she couldn't waste any more time.
She slipped into a shop she'd scouted earlier, hurried to the window, and pulled a small flashlight from her jacket, blinking it at the dark street outside.
Seconds later, the bushes across the street rustled and a small, ugly-faced man emerged, scurrying to the window.
"They're asleep," Cindy whispered urgently, leaning out. "But the sedatives might be degraded — get everyone here now. They could wake up at any moment."
"O-okay!"
The man didn't waste a breath. He bolted toward a house to the southwest.
Cindy watched him disappear, exhaled slowly, and decided the safest play was to go back and pretend to be asleep. If anything went wrong, she could still act as an inside agent.
She turned toward the shop's doorway, mind elsewhere, and completely failed to notice the points of light that had appeared just ahead of her.
...
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