The Two of Us

Chapter 6: Dead Riders

My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I'm suspended between the realms of dreams and reality. The military-grade sheets cling to me, reluctant to release their grasp. The room is cloaked in shadows, and the only sound is the soldiers yelling in the distance.

But then the staccato of gunfire reverberates through the air. My heart races, and the remnants of sleep dissolve, replaced by the stark awareness that this is no dream. Outside, the chaos intensifies. Shouts, distant screams, and the relentless percussion of gunfire meld into a symphony of survival.

I bolt upright, adrenaline surging through my veins. The muffled sounds of chaos seep through the walls. My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest that I can almost hear it over the chaos around me. I don't even know what's happening, but I know I have to do something.

Without hesitation, I snatch the hoodie from the chair and put it on. The military boots stand at attention near the bed. I scramble to lace up the boots, my fingers fumbling in the urgency of the moment. The room feels like a battleground. My mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. Is it a swarm? A horde? An armada? Or is it some gang? Whatever it is, it's too close for comfort.

Fear claws at my throat, but determination steadies my hands. I need to get out of here. I turn toward the door when, suddenly, they slam open with a force that startles me. Before I can fully grasp the situation, Zane storms into my room. His eyes meet mine, wide with urgency.

"Jenna, we need to move. Now!" he exclaims.

"What's happening?"

"We are being attacked by Dead Riders."

"What? Who?"

"Dead Riders. They are a biker gang we've been waging war against for more than a year now. They've been trying to take control of this area, and it looks like they've decided to escalate things. We need to get to my father now."

I nod, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Dead Riders. I've heard stories about them—ruthless, relentless, and with a taste for chaos. Surviving in a world overrun by the undead is one thing, but dealing with human threats, especially organized ones, is an entirely different challenge.

Zane grabs my arm, pulling me out of the room and into the dimly lit corridor. As we weave through the hallways, the base comes alive with frenzied activity. Soldiers rush past us, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. Alarms blare overhead, adding to the cacophony of the unfolding crisis.

We reach a secure room marked with a red sign, and Zane swiftly punches in a code, granting us access. The room is a command center, bathed in the eerie glow of dimmed lights and illuminated screens. Zane's father stands at the center, barking orders into a radio while studying a live feed of the base's perimeter.

"Father!" Zane calls out, his voice cutting through the chaos.

He turns toward us. "Zane, Jenna, we're under heavy attack. Dead Riders have breached our defenses, and it's not safe here. You need to get to the tunnels on the south side of the base. You can escape through them."

Zane nods, absorbing the information. "We'll get there, dad. We can handle it."

His father's gaze intensifies. "No heroics, Zane. Your priority is Jenna's safety. You need to get her to D.C., alone. I need all my men here. Anderson and Johnson will escort you through the tunnels. Take those backpacks. They are filled with supplies. And take those weapons on the table."

Zane and I grab the backpacks and weapons, strapping them on quickly. Jackson clasps his hand on Zane's shoulder, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. It's a moment of shared resolve, an unspoken acknowledgment that sacrifices are being made for the greater good.