Chapter 2

"Damn it," Andre grumbled in frustration as he absorbed the bleak reports emanating from both the TV and the radio. They were all echoing the same unsettling narrative, one that painted a picture of societal collapse and the government's continuous attempts to downplay and underestimate the extent of the crisis. The disparity between the official reassurances and the growing body of evidence left Andre infuriated. It was yet another example of misplaced priorities, where the might of America was squandered on conflicts like the Vietnam War and ridiculous futile rivalries with the Reds, instead of preparing for a genuine crisis and actually solving it.

"This can't be happening." Luda's gaze remained somber, directed downward, her expression filled with despair. Andre, however, reached out, enfolding his wife in a warm embrace, a silent promise that they would weather this storm together.

"It's alright. Me, Ethan, and Michael will both figure this out. It's not over yet, baby." Andre whispered soothingly, pressing a gentle kiss to Luda's forehead while cradling her.

Monica and Ana, in the meantime, were hard at work in the kitchen while methodically organizing their inventory and supplies. Their hands moved with precision as they sought to bring order to their immediate surroundings.

Ana, curious and with a playful smile, questioned Monica about her relationship with Ethan. "So, how long have you known him? You and Ethan seem close, despite not being in a relationship."

"What?" Monica looked up, her attention piqued by Ana's query. 

"Oh," She chuckled weakly, realizing, "Well, actually, I've known him for about as long as you have. We only met yesterday when the ghouls had just started to show up. We flirt and joke around, but he keeps his distance. I just realized that now, but it makes sense. After all, we've only known each other for a day. We met at a diner, where I asked him out. If it weren't for that, I probably wouldn't be here."

Ana grinned, nodding as she listened to Monica's explanation. "It does seem like you two have known each other for a long time, given how you two act when you're together."

"Yeah, it's just how we are when we're together," Monica admitted. "He has this charm, you know? Talking to him, you feel like you're already close. Do you get what I mean?"

Ana nodded, offering her understanding. "I do. Besides, he's a very good-looking guy as well, so it's always a treat when you're facing him."

Monica's playful smirk resurfaced as she bumped Ana gently. "Aww, do I detect a little interest on your part as well?"

Ana laughed, her voice filled with amusement. "Who wouldn't, really? When you talk to him, it's like he's completely in control of the conversation, and he has that confidence. He focuses on you like there's no one else in the room."

Monica joined in the laughter. "What about Michael, though? He seems like a genuinely nice guy, and he's quite the looker too."

Ana shrugged nonchalantly, her smile unceasing. "Who's to say, really? They're all single guys, and they're definitely not lacking in the looks and character department."

Monica's smirk widened as she playfully teased, "Michael doesn't quite have Ethan's fancy good hair, though, which just adds to the hotness factor."

Ana burst into laughter again, thoroughly enjoying the lighthearted conversation. "That is true."

~~~

Michael stared out of the car window, his eyes tracing the gruesome transformation of the once-vibrant city into a desolate, blood-soaked hell of carnage. The streets were now a battlefield littered with the remains of the fallen. The city's heartbeat had been silenced, replaced by the crackle of fires and the hollow echoes of death.

"Jesus," Michael whispered, his voice filled with sorrow and horror as he absorbed the full extent of the chaos. He turned to the driver, his companion through this nightmarish journey, Ethan, who remained resolute and focused amid the chaos.

For hours, the two of them had been navigating the perilous streets of the city, encountering nothing but corpses or the relentless living dead. The military and law enforcement, once symbols of security, had crumbled in the face of this relentless onslaught.

Ethan reached for his walkie-talkie, connecting with Andre to gather updates on the situation. "How's the news, Andre? What are they saying?"

"It's all fucked, man. The government doesn't seem to know what to do and the military are all scattered and disorganized. Cops are retreating with their tails tucked. And assholes still debate whether we should still treat the ghouls as people and how to handle them without dehumanizing them or some shit. It's all fucking bullshit, man." Andre's voice crackled through the device.

"Thank you, please keep us posted if anything comes up." Ethan sighed deeply, his frustration with the way the government and military were handling the undead threat becoming palpable. The gravity of the situation was staggering, and it was hard to ignore the inefficiency that had allowed it to spiral out of control. It was clear that with competent leadership and focused management, the situation could have been handled differently. His throughts drift to wondering about his world if it was faced with the same undead threat and how his world's military and government could have easily beat it however, he realized that comparing this world's response to his own was not only unfair but also pointless.

"Should we check out the mall now?" Michael inquired.

Without uttering a word, Ethan nodded and shifted the car onto another road that led them toward the Monroeville Mall.

~~~

Andre cautiously peered out from behind the curtain-covered window of Ethan's house, ensuring that he remained hidded from the watchful gaze of the ghouls lurking in the eerie streets. What he sees was a nightmarish tableau, a grim parody of the vibrant community this area once was. His voice was but a faint whisper, carrying his quiet contemplations, "Is this what Hell is? Has God brought Hell upon us to punish us for our sins?"

With a heavy heart, he rubbed his temples and let out a profound sigh before withdrawing from the mirror's grim view. Andre retreated to the couch, seeking some form of respite from the dreadful sights outside. He makes an effort to mentally tune out the incessant noise coming from the television, well aware that the discussions onscreen were pretty much the same thing from before, just in a different way. The people are always locked in heated debates about how to confront the ghouls and the possibility of deploying weapons of mass destruction.

As Andre glanced down at his own hands, he was reminded of the deeds he had performed with it—acts that were tainted by darkness and sin. It was a sobering realization, yet he clung onto a glimmer of hope, striving to repurpose these once-dirty hands for the greater good.

Sitting down on the couch beside Andre, Ana couldn't help but comment on the relentless discord displayed on the television screen, "Good God, these people can't seem to get along and agree on anything, can they?"

Monica, who was sipping a cup of coffee, interjected with a hint of cynicism as she lit a cigarette, "Well, to be fair, it's in our nature, isn't it? Even before the outbreak, we people have a knack for conflict within ourselves. We always squabbled and fought among ourselves, whether it was our rivalries with the Reds or the senseless war in 'Nam that swallowed half our forces. It's as if we are doomed to be that way and we just can't help ourselves from disagreeing with one another which always of course will eventually lead us to start killing each other."

Andre nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Which makes it all the more important that we must start to learn to put our differences aside and try working together for the greater good, especially since that's what our guy Ethan clearly wants us to do. That man's been busting his ass and making all the efforts to make everything work well for everyone so we can all live and survive happily. Following his example is the least we can do since that man never asked for anything other than our complete cooperation."

~~~

Arriving at the Monroeville Mall, Ethan and Michael were met with a grim sight. The entrance was swarmed by hordes of undead, their desperate attempts to breach the doors a disheartening spectacle. Yet, the mall appeared to be secure, keeping the ravenous horde at bay. A glimmer of hope flickered within the survivors; perhaps they'd found a sanctuary amid the chaos.

Observing the scene, Michael voiced the concern nagging at him, "Jesus, how can we get through there? There's like hundreds of them."

Ethan, a glint of resolve in his eyes, shot a pointed question in return as he fastens his seatbelt, "You have your seatbelt on?"

"Why? What are you-" Michael's bewilderment quickly turned to dread as he grasped Ethan's intent, and the truth struck him with a paralyzing jolt. "Oh no, you're not thinking of-"

"Yeah. You thought right. Now put them on." Ethan affirmed with a single sentence.

"Oh, shit! Shit! Shit!" Michael cursed repeatedly as he followed Ethan's instruction, putting on his seatbelt.

With that, Ethan's foot met the gas pedal with unyielding determination, propelling the car into a ferocious surge. The vehicle roared, its tires screeching as it hurtled towards the undead horde. Expertly, Ethan navigated the chaos, the car becoming a merciless battering ram. Blood and gore spattered across the car, the undead met their gruesome fate as they were mangled and eviscerated.

The relentless assault continued for what felt like an eternity for Michael, but in reality, it was only half an hour before Ethan had cleared the area of the ghouls. The car, now adorned with macabre decorations, had its windshield clean, thanks to the windshield wipers faithfully wiping away the remnants of the assault. Once they halted, Michael staggered out of the car, his face drained of color. He leaned against the vehicle and heaved, his stomach in revolt before eventually letting it all out as he retches violently, throwing out all he ate for breakfast this morning.

"Are you okay?" Ethan asked, genuine concern in his eyes as he stepped out of the car.

"Seriously, what the fuck was that, Ethan?! Are you crazy?! We were almost killed by that stunt you just pulled. What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Michael spat out his frustration and fear, his angry glare pointed at the IMF agent standing in front of him.

Ethan absorbed the reproach, feeling a pang of guilt as he remembered that Michael isn't an IMF agent like Benji or Luther or Brandt who's used to the way he handles things. He acknowledged Michael's point with a solemn apology, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

Michael, his anger fading, managed to find some perspective in the ordeal, "No. No. It's fine. At least we didn't die and your plan worked out okay in the end anyway despite how crazy and reckless it was. But I might need a moment here." He then vomited again.

Ethan smiled at his words and was appreciative of Michael's understanding and patience, however there was no time to dwell on the incident. His attention and focus shifted back to the mall. It was clearly fortified and free from the ghastly presence of the undead. The absence of ghoulish figures meant one thing—there were survivors inside.

However suddenly, to their surprise and out of nowhere, the distant hum of helicopter blades sliced through the eerie air of silence. Ethan and Michael pivoted, their eyes scanning the sky until they spotted the approaching aircraft. It was a rare sight in a world consumed by chaos, but it was heading directly toward them.

Ethan calmly waved, hoping to catch the attention of the helicopter's passengers, while Michael, despite his earlier ordeal, couldn't stop himself from calling out the aircraft at the top of his voice.

"Hey! Over here! Over here!" Michael bellowed, his desperate cries echoing on the breeze as the helicopter gradually closed the distance.

As the aircraft descended and eventually touched down, its doors swung open, and the passengers disembarked, accompanied by the pilot.

Ethan's trained eye identified two of them as members of a SWAT team. One was a short, stocky man of Italian descent with short blonde hair, and the other a burly African-American male with a clean-cut, authoritative presence. The third member to exit the helicopter was a pale, petite woman with blonde hair, her gaze wide with disbelief as she took in the nightmarish scene that surrounded them. The final member of their new arrivals was the pilot who had skillfully navigated the aircraft to this point.

"Jesus, what the hell happened here?" the Italian-American SWAT officer inquired, his voice tinged with astonishment as he observed the displayed carnage and gore surrounding them.

"You probably should've guessed by now." Michael replied, gesturing toward Ethan's blood-spattered BMW M2.

"You rammed them all to death?" the other SWAT member questioned, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity in his voice.

Ethan offered a casual shrug. "What does it look like?"

"One thing's for sure," Michael admitted, his voice colored with humor despite the chaos, "I'm never getting in a car with this man as the driver again."

"Jesus," the pale blonde woman muttered as she surveyed the area, her eyes widening as she took in Ethan's handiwork.

The African-American SWAT member turned to the two newcomers. "What's your name?"

"He's Ethan." Michael casually gestured to the IMF agent before gesturing to himself, "And I'm Michael."

"Peter." The African-American SWAT member answered before gesturing to the other SWAT member, their pilot and the only female individual of their group, "He's Roger. Stephen's the flyboy and I believe you all probably don't need to guess who Fran is."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Ethan offered with a polite smile.

"Same here." Michael added.

"Likewise," Peter nodded, a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he looked toward the mall. "Now, I'm guessing we're all planning the same thing here since we're all standing outside looking at the prize right now. We all want to get inside."

Ethan agreed, "Yes, and we need to talk to the people inside."

Roger, who had been listening intently, chimed in, "How do you know there are people inside?"

Ethan explained, "Because the mall wouldn't barricade and fortify itself. There are people in there, hiding."

"And you fucking thought right!" Their conversation was interrupted as a voice called to them from above. All eyes were then instantly drawn to the roof, and they spotted three men in security guard uniforms, confirming Ethan's deduction and suspicion that the mall indeed harbored survivors, "Y'all should have fucking seen hardcore Steve Mcqueen there and his sweet ride. The man's got skills. Anyways, thanks for wiping out the zombies, we were getting sick of hearing their moans and groans."

Not wanting to waste time, Ethan started, "I'm guessing you've all been listening from the start, haven't you?"

"Yep, Steve McQueen and the answer's no. You're all not getting in here, this is our place, it's fucking ours and I expect you all to go back to wherever you came from." One of the security guard replied, one Ethan that deduced is the leader.

Peter didn't take kindly to what the leader said, glaring at them with an angry scowl on his face, "There's nothing to go back from, you selfish bastard! We've been flying for days on end and there's nothing out there but death and chaos."

"Well, tough shit, that's not my problem." The leader shrugged nonchalantly.

"Come on, CJ, we shouldn't do this. We can't just leave them there and those are cops you're talking to." One of the other security guards disagreed empathetically with their leader, worry and concern in his eyes.

The leader, CJ, turned to his fellow security guard with a murderous psychotic glare, "And I'm the one who fucking makes decisions here, Terry! Now shut your pussy mouth up! Besides, they're not even fucking cops anymore. Have you noticed how the world is now, you fuckwit? If they're still cops, they would still be out there fighting the fucking zombies, not out here begging to get inside our fucking fortress."

"How about we make a deal?" Ethan suddenly suggested, choosing to ignore CJ's outburst and instead glancing at the weapons they carry, "I've got lots of guns and ammunition. We give those to you in exchange for living in there."

"We've got a fucking gun store in here, pal, so try again." CJ retorted, crossing his arms.

"What about explosives and armors then?" Ethan replied calmly, "I give those to you, we stay and live in there."

"Oh, and am I suppose to believe you have those things and not just a fucking lie so you idiots can get in?" CJ voiced his disbelief.

"Who says I'm lying?" Ethan calmly turns to Michael who's already shaken by all of this and how tense everything is going, "Pop the trunk. Show it to 'em."

Michael didn't need to say a word and simply nodded, following Ethan's instruction. He opens the trunk and pulls out the armors and explosives for everyone to see.

At this, CJ started to rub his bearded chin, now considering Ethan's deal, "We'll let you in. But not those three since I know you're not actually associated with them in any way."

Before Peter could lose his patience, arguing for his group, Ethan instantly butted in, "No, they're also going in. For them, I'll give you the car."

"What do I need a fucking fancy car for?" CJ scrunched his face in confusion, almost chuckling at Ethan's new offer.

"In case if something ever goes wrong and you need a ride out of here. Not only that, the car's bulletproof and has a highly advanced digital mapping system which can help you track and locate any nearby gas stations if you ever need any fuel, not that's it running on empty right now. It's a one of a kind car and you won't see anything like it, that I can promise you." Ethan explained.

"How do I know you're not bullshitting me with that?" CJ questioned, contemplating what to do as he continues to rub his bearded chin.

"You can test it out for yourself or I can show it to you." Ethan retorted, "Besides, when have I ever tried to bullshit you? Think about it. It's not really a bad deal for you, is it, CJ? We will both share supplies, we work and figure stuff out together, while you mostly get all the best benefits out of all this."

"Alright." CJ finally relented, "You and all your little buddies can get in and live in here. But one fuck up and you can bet all your sorry asses kicked out of here permanently."

"I really hope you know what you're doing with this." Michael whispers to Ethan, expressing his doubts and concerns with this deal.

Meanwhile CJ turns to his other companion, "Get the keys, Bart, let's go get the doors open. Terry, you watch them alright."

"Thank you." Fran approached Ethan with a small smile of gratitude.

"Man, you didn't need to do all that. But still, I appreciate it that you did." Peter nodded in respect and gratitude, gently placing a hand on Ethan's shoulder, "The times right now been tough on all of us. World's just ain't what it used to be."

"I know." Ethan nodded back with a polite smile.

Peter however turned around, whispering out of earshot, "But people are somehow still the same."

"You know, I just realized something. What were they even doing here?" Michael suddenly asked, gesturing at the splattered remains of the undead, "Why were they trying to get in? The guards were hiding pretty well and they weren't making any noise at all. They can't just smell or sense them from here. That's impossible."

"There's probably some kind of instinct in play here. Memories of what they used to do. This was an important place in their lives." Stephen answered, gazing at the desecrated remains of the living dead.

"Our lives." Ethan added, "They are us, were us, that is."

"Meaning they weren't after the people inside. They were after this place instead. Although they really don't know why." Peter explained, lighting a cigarette to smoke, "Somehow, they just remember. Remember that they wanna be in here. As you said it, Ethan, they are us, there's just simply no more room in Hell."

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked, raising a brow at where Peter is getting at.

"Just something my grandaddy used to say." Peter elaborated, puffing out smoke from his cigarette, "When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth."

~~~

"They're here!" Monica exclaimed, brightening up as she sees Ethan driving along with Michael onboard in now a Ducati Scrambler motorcycle followed by Ethan's very own BMW M2 car being driven by a completely different person she had never seen before, "And they've brought someone!"

"Probably another survivor." Andre chimed in, his curiosity piqued as he joined Monica by the window, with Ana and Luda following suit, "Although I wonder why they are now driving a motorcycle and not the car."

Their eyes were glued to the scene unfolding outside. Ethan and Michael were taking down the ghouls with remarkable precision, skillfully firing their pistols while riding toward them, dispatching the undead one by one.

"Man, is there anything that guy can't do? He's shooting them in the head while driving a motorcycle with a passenger onboard who's also firing his guns off as well." Andre marveled, watching incredulously and in awe as Ethan and Michael effortlessly cleared a path through the undead while in a speeding motorcycle driven by Ethan himself.

Once they had wiped out any remaining ghouls in the vicinity, the trio wasted no time stepping out of the house to greet Ethan and Michael outside, waiting for them.

"Took you guys long enough." Ana remarked, a small smile on her face. "So, what's up?"

Luda was eager to learn more. "How did it go?" she asked, casting a curious glance toward the stranger who had been driving Ethan's car before whispering to Ethan and Michael, "And who is that man with you?"

Ethan carefully glances at the man with them, Bart, according to what CJ called him.

"Hey, you explain it to 'em, man. The deal's between you and CJ." Bart casually leaned against the BMW M2, crossing his arms while eyeing Monica and Ana up and down, "I'm just here to get your people and of course your 'valued goods'."

Ana, feeling uncomfortable under Bart's lustful gaze, inquired, "What's he talking about, Ethan?"

With his calm and composed demeanor, Ethan began to clarify the situation for everyone, "We found the mall we were looking for, but it's already occupied by another group, it's led by a man named CJ. They've fortified the place, and they wouldn't let us in."

The group exchanged glances, processing the implications of Ethan's words. He continued, "So, I took the trouble of negotiating with CJ, offering our explosives, armor, ammunition, and even my car to gain us access to the mall. We'll be sharing each of our respective resources, but we must abide by their rules."

Luda was the first to voice her curiosity. "What are these rules?"

Ethan explained them matter-of-factly. "First, nobody starts trouble, like fights, excessive drinking, or harassment. Second, everyone contributes in some way, unless there's a valid reason you can't. And third, no one acts recklessly without CJ's permission, like inviting or talking to outsiders, conducting supply runs, or attempting rescues."

"I see." Andre contemplated, rubbing his chin, glancing at his wife whom definitely has valid reasons she won't be doing any sort of physical labor anytime soon.

"The rules seems reasonable enough." Monica shrugged before turning to her fellow blonde, "I don't have a problem with it, how about you, Ana?"

Ana, still wary of Bart's lingering gaze, shook her head slightly, sighing wearily. "We'll find out if these rules are really enforced fairly, or just a way for this CJ guy to push us around like a dictator."

"I want you all to know that this isn't the only way. We can back out of this deal anytime we want. We can return to my house; it's fortified and secure, but still, it has limited resources and supplies however we have more freedom there, no one's imposing any rules there. But nevertheless, it's still small, and we might find desperate survivors begging to get in and live with us." Ethan looks over at everyone, addressing them as a leader who's responsible for their health and safety, "On the other hand, we have the mall which is vast, fortified, and brimming with resources and supplies. But CJ has his set of rules and conditions. He's not extremely demanding or strict, but things might get complicated for us there."

"What do you think, Michael?" Ana turned to the man standing beside Ethan.

"You remember that we can back out of the deal anytime we want, right? I'll say, let's try it. If we don't like living there, we can leave and go back here, figure things out on our own." Michael answered calmly, his eyes focused on Ana.

Andre chimed in, his trust in their decision evident. "I'm with you on this," he said, followed by agreements from Luda and Monica.

Ana, though still skeptical, eventually conceded with a weary sigh, "Hmm, alright, let's give it a shot."

She still couldn't help but notice the unsettling glances that Bart was still casting her way.

"Well then, let's get started," Ethan declared to the group. He turned to Michael. "Go help them, Michael. I'll have a talk with our 'friend' here."

Michael, despite his relatively short time knowing Ethan, sensed the intensity in his eyes. He understood that there was a simmering anger towards Bart. "You got it, Ethan."

As the group busied themselves working together to gather their resources at the house for transport, Ethan and Bart were left alone. Wasting no time, Ethan swiftly seized Bart's arm and twisted it painfully, forcing the security guard to his knees with a grunt of pain.

"I've seen the way you've looked at Ana and Monica. Don't do that," Ethan warned, his voice cold, and his gaze filled with disdain. "Or else, I might have to inform CJ about this."

Bart attempted to laugh, but Ethan's grip and the painful twist of his arm silenced his mirth, "As if CJ will believe any words coming out of your fucking mouth. I can look at whatever the fuck I want, pretty boy."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Not even denying it, huh? We'll see about that."

With a final twist of Bart's arm, Ethan released him, and the security guard immediately made a move for his pistol, only to find it missing from its holster. He looked back at Ethan, who wore a small, satisfied smile while casually holding Bart's pistol. It was then that Bart noticed some sort of device in Ethan's hand.

"I've seen the way you've looked at Ana and Monica. Don't do that, or else I might have to inform CJ about this," Ethan's voice played from the device.

"As if CJ will believe any words coming out of your fucking mouth. I can look at whatever the fuck I want, pretty boy." Bart's voice followed from the device.

Bart gritted his teeth in anger, finally realizing that Ethan had been recording their conversation and scuffle this whole time with such a device he holds in his hands. He muttered, "You fucking sneaky little shit."

"Cooperate, Bart," Ethan advised calmly, showing the voice recorder. "You don't want CJ hearing about this, do you?"

"Fuck you, man." Bart hissed venomously.

"Oooh, is that any way to address the man currently holding your life right now?" Ethan lightly mocked Bart, a sly grin playing on his lips, relishing in agitating the man to remind him who held the upper hand.

"Fucking fine! Alright," Bart surrendered, his anger seething beneath the surface..

"Just cooperate and comply. This will all be over soon. Just don't do it again." Ethan advised, his warning carrying a firm tone.

Once they had finished loading up all the supplies into and onto Ethan's BMW M2, Ethan rearranged the group. Michael took the wheel, with Bart in the passenger seat. Monica, on the other hand, was insistent on riding with Ethan on the motorcycle. Despite her unspoken intentions, Ethan understood her well enough and still focused on the road.

"Time to move out, everyone," Ethan called to the group as they set the wheels in motion, making their way toward the Monroeville Mall.

~~~

On the road, Ethan kept his attention firmly on the path ahead, skillfully navigating through the desolate and ravaged area they are currently in. Monica was behind him, and her suggestive touches and warm breath on his neck couldn't be more obvious. She knew exactly how to tease and tantalize a man. Most men might have succumbed to the temptation under such circumstances, but Ethan was not like most men. He had the discipline to focus on the mission and push aside the alluring distractions, no matter how tempting they might be.

"Hmph! You're no fun," Monica pouted, but her playful complaint only earned a smirk from Ethan, accompanied by a sly wink.

Recognizing that her teasing wasn't going to ruffle the unflappable man in front of her, Monica contentedly nestled against Ethan's shoulder, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. Together, they watched the sun dip below the horizon, painting the vast sky in shades of vibrant orange. A gentle breeze tousled her curly blonde hair, adding to the serenity of the moment. From this vantage point, the world took on a semblance of beauty and normalcy. However, Monica was acutely aware that it was merely a fleeting illusion. The constant chaos and destruction caused by the reanimated dead had left an indelible mark on the world. Whether things could ever return to what everyone once knew as "normal" remained uncertain.

As they continued their journey, Monica's voice, now tinged with doubt and longing for reassurance, broke the silence, "Ethan, do you really think we'll actually pull through from all of this?" 

"Without a doubt." Ethan's reply was immediate, and his conviction was unwavering, "I want you to know that we're not just going to survive this, we're going to live through this and thrive. I'll make sure of that."

Monica felt a glimmer of hope reignite within her. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"I do." Ethan answered, turning back to her with a wide smile that is brimmed with confidence and resolve.

With that, a surge of affection prompted Monica to kiss Ethan gently on the cheek. "For luck, just in case you need it."

Before Ethan could convey his gratitude to Monica, the abrupt sound of gunshots shattered the moment and also the tranquil atmosphere of their journey, prompting the entire group to freeze in their tracks on the desolate road. They strained their senses, trying to pinpoint the source of the gunfire, but it seemed to emanate from the south, an ominous echo in the eerie silence.

Monica's voice quivered with worry and fear. "What was that?"

Ethan's gaze fixed on the direction of the gunshots as he answered. "Those were gunshots."

The sporadic gunfire persisted, and Ethan and the group maintained a composed stance, hands instinctively moving to their holstered weapons.

Once more, the shots rang out, and Ethan remained watchful. "There it is again."

Michael, who had remained in the car, leaned out of the window, his voice edged with concern. "What's happening over there?"

Ethan turned to his blonde companion behind him, a sense of urgency in his tone. "Monica, go to Michael and get inside the car. I'll head out and investigate where those gunshots came from, see if anyone needs help."

"I'm coming with you, man. Michael can stay here and keep an eye on the others," Andre interjected, stepping out of the car to join Ethan.

Monica's eyes locked with Ethan's, her concern evident. "You'll come back, won't you?"

Ethan offered a reassuring smile and nodded. "You can count on it. Now go."

~~~

Barbara had anticipated the arrival of this day, a day when societal norms and human decency became a rare commodity, but she had never imagined how swiftly it would crumble into oblivion, especially since that fateful day and night when the dead returned to life, feasting on the living. Her companion, Norma, huddled beside her, both taking in refuge behind the protective barrier of a car.

"How many rounds do you have left, hon?" Norma inquired, a thread of concern lacing her words.

"Not much." Barbara, wearied by the relentless struggle for survival, sighed as she loaded her Henry 1860 Rifle, "Still, we can't give up now, Norma. Those people need us."

Norma's response was a determined grin as she deftly cocked her Smith & Wesson Model 10 Snub-Nose Revolver, "Heh, damn right."

Despite their determination however, Barbara couldn't ignore the harsh reality—they were outnumbered and outgunned, facing five adversaries with superior firepower. Her frustration mounted as she wished for a miracle, but she was a realist, and deep down, she knew they had to rely on their own wits and each other.

Then, in a shocking turn of events that left both Barbara and Norma astounded, a genuine miracle unfolded before their eyes. A man, clad in a black tactical combat suit, emerged seemingly out of nowhere, expertly dual-wielding pistols. He charged toward the raiders who were closing in on Barbara and Norma, and with astonishing precision, he opened fire.

The man's dual-wielding didn't seem to affect his marksmanship; his shots were precise, and he handled the pistols with remarkable ease, displaying no signs of recoil. In the blink of an eye, all five raiders were incapacitated with shots to the head, before they even had a chance to react.

It was a breathtaking rescue that left Barbara and Norma in awe, as their savior swiftly eliminated the threat that had loomed so dangerously over them.

"Man, you are crazy, charging in like that! What you just pulled was borderline insane!" Another man suddenly emerged, strolling up to the one wielding the dual pistols, who simply offered a nonchalant shrug in response. "And how on earth did you even figure out which people to shoot at?"

"These were Blades' men," the man with the dual pistols explained calmly, "I know these guys. From the looks of it, they were trying to raid these people and rob them." He holstered his dual pistols and then shifted his gaze toward the hiding spots of Barbara and Norma. "You two can come out now. You're safe. It's all clear."

"Can we trust them?" Norma's voice quivered with doubt and fear as she turned to Barbara, seeking reassurance.

Barbara carefully considered the situation, her brows furrowing in thought, "If they wanted to attack us, they would have already done so from the beginning. Let's just keep calm and talk to them for now, we'll soon find out if they can be trusted."

With a nod from Barbara, Norma lowered her gun and cautiously rose from her cover, revealing herself to the two approaching men.

The man in the tactical combat suit, looked at Barbara with genuine concern. "You all right? I'm Ethan, and this man with me here is Andre."

Barbara offered a faint, but sincere, smile. "I'm fine. My name's Barbara." She gestured toward Norma, prompting her to rise as well. "And this is Norma."

Norma complied, her eyes locked on the strangers before her, silently appraising them as she assessed whether they could be trusted.

When she found no ill will on them, Norma sighed and then gave the two men a small smile, "We are thankful for your help, young men. It's been a while since we've seen decent people willing to help."

"We're glad to have helped, ma'am." Ethan smiled, "And it's good that you two weren't injured during the shootout."

"Speaking of that. That was really damn good shooting, young man. Never seen anything like it. You police, judging by that get-up?" Nora asked, as she eyes Ethan up and down in detail.

"I'm former military." Ethan answered simply.

"Which branch?" Barbara questioned in curiosity.

"Army. I was a Ranger in the 75th Regiment." Ethan replied.

"Ah, the elites in the Army, that explains the marksmanship just now." Nora commented, deeply impressed.

"Man, no wonder you ain't flinching at every signs of trouble." Andre added.

Ethan simply shrugged at the remark.

"Barbara! Norma! Are you there?!" A shout nearby catches their attention. It came from a ten-wheeler cargo truck parked across the street, "Is it over?"

"Do you have people in there?" Andre asked in surprise.

"Yeah, survivors we picked up along the way here before we got into a shootout with those idiots you just killed. These people were in a tight spot and they had nowhere to go. Just couldn't leave them to die." Nora explained before turning to her companion, "Barbara, will you please?"

On cue, Barbara nodded and then simply went ahead to the ten-wheeler truck before proceeding to open the cargo doors. There, Ethan and Andre catches a lot of new interesting faces. Some were teenagers in a punk aesthetic get up while the others were just normal old casual folks.

"Ethan?" A familiar voice spoke up and Ethan saw someone he never thought he'd see again sooner.

"Tucker?" Ethan raised a brow in surprise with a small smile slowly forming on his face, approaching the man with a handshake ready, "Never thought I'd see you here. It's really good to see you again."

"I could say the same." Tucker replied with a big smile and accepted Ethan's handshake before taking a clear view on Ethan's get up, "And wow, really going in as a soldier in the apocalypse, huh?"

Ethan simply shrugged at the remark with a sly smirk.

"Where are you guys headed?" Andre asked as he looks at the new folks, anxiousness brimming in him.

"Anywhere that's not surrounded by the dead or terrible people that shot at us." Norma answered simply with a shrug.

At this, Ethan and Andre looked at each other, wondering if they should help them out or not. Without a doubt, Ethan wanted to help however this also put everyone's lives at risk along with his deal with CJ if he were to help this group. Before they could dwell any further, an extremely load yet haunting howl catches everyone's attention. They turned to the source where they saw a particular ghoul looking at them while leading countless hordes of the undead.

"Oh my god," Norma gasped, her voice laced with horror and fear as she beheld the sight of countless undead slowly creeping toward them.

"They must have heard the gunshots." Barbara pointed out, her voice tense as she readied her rifle, "Damn it."

Ethan grits his teeth at the terrible dilemma he is now faced with. There's no choice for him now. He has to do it, he has to do the impossible once more. With determination etched on his features, he turned to Norma and Barbara, "Norma, Barbara. Tell your people to get moving and follow me with Andre. I know a place where you can all be safe. In fact, that's where we were heading before we met you."

"You got it." Norma affirmed, her voice resolute as she pivoted to address the group, "Alright, listen up! Get back inside the truck! We're heading out now. Move! Move! Move!"

"Lead the way, Ethan." Barbara said, her tone firm with resolve.