CHAPTER9
1106 Words
“Forget it.”
Jack couldn’t understand. “What do you mean forget it?”
The man answered briefly:
“There’s no water. At least not enough for you.”
Jack fell silent. Even this small thing weighed heavily on him.
The man went to the door, picked up his spiked club leaning against the wall, and opened it. The outside world was silent but full of threat. The man went outside; Jack followed. They began walking along the dirt road. There were abandoned trees all around, and emptiness in the distance. “What… what kind of place has this become?” Jack asked. The man answered without thinking:
“Normal.”
Jack frowned. “You call this normal?”
The man tilted his head slightly:
“Not like it used to be. But this is the new normal.”
Jack tried to process this. They walked in silence for a while. “So… what are we going to do?”
The man didn’t answer. He just stopped and pointed ahead. In the middle of the dirt road lay a dead man, his back turned, swaying slowly. The man gripped his club tightly; Jack held his breath. The man approached calmly, then suddenly quickened his pace. He brought his stick down on the dead man; the sound of bones cracking echoed. The dead man collapsed to the ground. The man looked at Jack:
“We’ll do this.”
Jack’s face tensed. The man bent down, striking the stones with the stick. Tap tap! Sounds came. Jack was startled. “What are you doing?!”
The man didn’t answer, he just waited. Growls rose from among the trees. One, then another, three or four more dead bodies appeared. Jack’s eyes widened. “You’re crazy…” he said.
The man smiled slightly and held out the stick to Jack:
“It’s your turn.”
Jack froze. He looked at the stick, then at the approaching dead, then back at the stick. “I have a gun,” he said nervously. The man shook his head:
“Noise. Either you learn… or someone will learn about you.”
The dead were approaching, slowly but relentlessly. Jack’s breath quickened. He clenched his fists. Finally, he picked up the stick; it was heavy and real. The first dead man reached out to him. His mouth was open, his eyes empty. Jack gritted his teeth, hesitated for a moment, but raised the stick.
The first dead man collapsed to the ground. The second was faster. Jack knocked him down with a hard blow. The third jumped on top; they both fell to the ground. His stick slipped. The man intervened, incapacitating the dead man with a single stroke of his knife. A quick kick to the last dead man, then smashed his head with the stick. Silence. The man looked at Jack:
“It’ll do.”
Jack struggled to hold his hand and stand up. His knees trembled. The man pulled a small flask from his pocket and offered it to Jack:
“Take it.”
Jack took it without thinking, opened the cap, and drank. His face changed as the water went down his throat; he looked as if he hadn’t drunk in days. The man gently warned:
“Slow down.”
Jack stopped, his eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t cry. He just looked. “I… I did this…” he said in a low voice. The man shrugged:
“You’ll do many more.”
Jack looked at the dead bodies again. Bodies lying on the ground, their own hands… And for the first time, something else began to replace fear: getting used to it.
The sun had already risen when they arrived at the farm, but the atmosphere was still heavy. The man went inside, followed by Jack. The courtyard was filled with silence; no one came running, no one said anything. They just… looked. Jack noticed; the gazes were still unfamiliar.
The man put his stick down. Jack still held it. A small change perhaps, but no one cared. Cole stood in the middle of the courtyard, as if he had been waiting for them. “Good. You’re back,” said Cole.
The man didn’t answer, he continued walking. Cole continued speaking:
“We need to talk.”
The man stopped, slowly turned. His eyes hardened. “Tell me,” he said.
Cole took a deep breath, glanced briefly around, and got straight to the point:
“New York.”
Silence fell. Everyone’s attention instantly focused. The man’s face changed. “No,” he said in a cold voice.
Cole didn’t pretend to be surprised; It was as if he'd been expecting this. “You haven’t even heard what I was going to say yet,” Cole said. The man was short and firm:
“No need.”
A brief tension settled over the courtyard. Marcus watched from a distance, Lena frowned and held her breath. Cole took another step closer and continued:
“We’re going into the center.”
This interrupted the atmosphere. The man’s jaw tightened. “You didn’t go in,” he said.
Cole retorted:
“That’s why you will.” The man took a step forward, anger evident in his eyes. “That’s a graveyard,” he said harshly.
Cole responded:
“Everything we need is there.”
“It’s full of herds!”
“And we’re hungry,” Cole said.
The silence was heavy and real. Cole made his final move:
“This isn’t a suggestion. It’s mandatory.”
The man’s eyes gleamed; this time he didn’t back down. “You can’t force me,” he said.
Cole leaned down, speaking softly, almost whispering:
“If you want to protect them… you will.”
Adam froze. The words struck him directly in the heart. A long silence. The wind blew. Finally, Adam recoiled; but it wasn’t acceptance, just controlled anger. “Who’s coming?” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re not going alone,” Cole said without thinking. He turned his head, his eyes falling on Marcus:
“You.”
Marcus smirked slightly, then looked at Jack. For the first time, Cole had truly included him. “And you,” Cole said.
Jack’s face froze. “What—me?!”
Adam immediately interrupted:
“No.”
Cole didn’t blink:
“Yes.”
“She’s not ready yet,” Adam said sharply. “She will be,” Cole said. Jack looked at them both, and for the first time he was truly afraid; a fear that came from within.He was coming. Marcus patted him lightly on the shoulder:
"Welcome to the team."
- Writer
