Zero Day: Days Left

Chapter 6

The days had blurred together in the week since Cliff saved the small group in the factory. The grim fortress, once a den of terror and brutality, had become a temporary refuge, a place where the remnants of the group could catch their breath and regroup. The rusting metal and broken windows no longer seemed as threatening, but rather like silent sentinels guarding those within. The factory, despite its grim history, offered them a semblance of security in a world where safety was an illusion.

The survivors had made the best of the place. The main floor, where the Reapers had once set up camp, was now a communal living space. The fire pit, once the center of the Reapers' debauchery, was now used for cooking and warmth. The survivors had found beds and mattresses from the old offices and storage rooms, creating makeshift quarters for themselves. The women, children, and the few men who remained had started to settle in, finding small comforts in routine and the familiarity of one another's presence.

Jonas had taken it upon himself to tend to the wounded and the sick, his skills as a doctor proving invaluable. He moved through the camp with a quiet efficiency, his face lined with exhaustion but resolute in his duty. The others relied on him, trusted him, and in return, he offered them whatever solace he could. But even Jonas couldn't heal the wounds that cut deepest—the ones that had left the survivors scarred in ways no medicine could touch.

Cliff and Aaron had been out on supply runs every day, venturing farther from the factory as the nearby areas were picked clean. The surrounding towns and abandoned homes offered little in the way of provisions, but they had managed to scavenge enough to keep the group fed. The trips had become a routine, a way for the two men to keep themselves occupied, to avoid the creeping sense of despair that threatened to take hold whenever they stopped moving.

But for Cliff, these runs served another purpose as well. Every time they went out, he searched for any sign of Cyprus. The Reaper leader had vanished after the massacre at the factory, disappearing like a ghost into the wasteland. But Cliff knew he was out there, watching, waiting. And Cliff's hatred for him had only grown in the days since Aubrey's confession. It was a fire that burned constantly in the back of his mind, fueling every decision, every action.

He couldn't let it go, couldn't move past it. Aubrey's suffering had become a permanent part of him, and until Cyprus was dead, there would be no peace.

The days had been mostly uneventful—at least, by the brutal standards of their world. But the atmosphere in the factory was heavy, oppressive. Cliff could feel it weighing down on him every time he returned from a supply run. The survivors had started to find a rhythm, but there was an underlying tension that no one dared to acknowledge. They all knew their safety was tenuous, that the factory was a fragile sanctuary in a hostile world.

And then there was Aubrey. She was alive, but the woman she had been before was gone. The light in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by a dullness that tore at Cliff's heart every time he looked at her. She wasn't a vegetable—she still spoke, still interacted with the others—but the warmth, the affection that had once defined their relationship was gone. She no longer sought him out, no longer touched him, no longer smiled at him the way she used to. She was a shadow of the person she had been, and Cliff didn't know how to reach her anymore.

He had tried, in those first few days after they escaped the factory. He had tried to comfort her, to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay. But she had pushed him away, not with anger or rejection, but with a kind of quiet resignation that made it clear she didn't want to be touched. The distance between them was unbearable, but there was nothing Cliff could do to bridge it.

Every night, he lay awake, his mind churning with thoughts of revenge and regret. He should have killed Cyprus when he had the chance. He should have hunted him down, no matter the cost. But he hadn't, and now Aubrey was paying the price. The guilt gnawed at him, an ever-present reminder of his failure.