Success of the Broken Banner

Chapter 3: Trust Is Earned

The sharp pain pierced my skin before I was fully conscious, coursing down my body and pulsing at the wounds that marred my flesh. I shifted on the unwelcoming mat beneath me, attempting in vain to find relief from discomfort. Groaning in pain, I kept my eyes sealed shut as I wiped away beads of sweat from my damp forehead with the back of my hand, not fully registering the binding that held my wrists together.

"She's awake." a man's voice echoed, shattering the once quiet room. I scrambled up from the floor in a panic and backed away, pressing my body against the cold, unforgiving concrete wall behind me. Frantically, I scanned the barren room for my missing bag. All that surrounded me was a simple mat on the floor, medical supplies scattered about, and Echo—the man was sat on a stool, his watchful eyes fixed on the spot where I had just lain, a communication device placed in his right hand as he lowered it from his mouth and a flashlight in his left hand.

"I wouldn't move too much," he warned, standing up from the chair and backing away from the mat. "The stitches on your legs are still fresh." He rummaged through a bag strapped to his back and pulled out a thermos and cup. Unscrewing the lid, he poured water into the cup and placed it beside the mat. "Drink this when you're ready. You didn't survive that attack just to die of dehydration."

I eyed him warily, still pressed against the wall opposite from him. "Who are you?" I demanded. "And where am I?"

A door swung open, allowing a burst of light to penetrate the dark interior. Illuminated by the setting sun, a silhouetted figure of the second man descended into the room; I now knew it was a storm shelter. An assault rifle and a machete were visibly strapped on his person, accompanying him into the shadows. After he dropped several bags on the floor near the stairs with an audible sigh, he spoke up.

"Seems like we arrived at the perfect moment to save you from becoming Lurker food; a little gratitude wouldn't go amiss," he said, nodding toward his companion. "Echo, if you're done babysitting, could use some help unloading the truck."

Echo rolled his eyes and glanced back at me, motioning to the cup again. They left the room in single file, closing the door behind them. I seized the opportunity to gulp down the water swiftly as if it were the last drop on earth, which, given the circumstances, could very well be true.

I surveyed the room again, searching for anything they might have left behind that could serve as a means of self-defense. Although they rescued me from the creature at the gas station, I couldn't bring myself to trust them. My gaze fell upon the bags near the staircase; I tiptoed over and rummaged through their contents, my hands still bound by rope, doing my best to ignore the pain coursing through my body.

Nothing.

Blankets, food, flashlights, and additional medical supplies filled the bags. I groaned in frustration, pushing the bags away as I straightened up. Swiftly, I moved toward the mat on the floor and glanced over the medical supplies. There, I discovered a small pair of scissors meant for cutting thread, along with a scalpel-like knife. I reached for the knife and slipped it in between my hands with the blade facing towards me and resumed my position against the wall.

The men returned to the shelter, placing their last bags among the others before sealing the overhead door. Just as the light escaped the room once more, I noticed that both men wore military uniforms, with tactical vests covering their torsos.

A lantern was ignited and a dim light shined in the room, breaking up the darkness. The other man glanced at me contemptuously, then turned to Echo and back at me prior to unpacking a bag at his feet. Echo approached the now-empty cup, noticing its missing contents; a subtle smile graced his lips as he stowed it back in his bag.