Through The Ashes

12

Jorn wakes up early, unable to sleep for very long. She goes through the motions—checking her gear, adjusting her bandages, trying to shake off the lingering emotions that clung to her like fog.

When she steps outside her tent, half the camp is still asleep. The sun hasn't fully risen yet, the biggest source of light from the fires. Harrem is joking with Brady near one, their loud banter a sharp contrast to the dread Jorn feels. She ignores them, heading straight for where Del is standing by the gate, talking to Yosef and Nicky.

Jorn spots Mara on the other side of the camp, adjusting the straps of her gear, her movements precise and calm. Their eyes meet for a brief second, and Mara gives her a small nod and smile, a wordless confirmation that she's ready. Jorn nods back, trying to keep her head clear.

When everyone gathers together, Del speaks. "Alright, you five head out in five minutes. Take care of these guns, we don't have many of them."

Jorn is given an assault rifle, with extra magazines. She takes it without a word, the familiar cold steel of the weapon grounding her momentarily as she checks it over. The sound of the clip sliding into place, the click of the safety, the heft of it against her shoulder—it's all mechanical to her now.

It wasn't often they used the assault rifles, but it was nice when they were given the extra firepower.

"You all know the drill," Del says, his voice low but firm. "Stick together, keep your eyes open, and for God's sake, watch each other's backs. Don't lose sight of anyone, alright?"

"Got it," Yosef replied.

"Sir," Brady said.

Mara gently bumped Jorn's arm. "Ready?" she asks, her tone light, but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes—something that mirrors the worry Jorn has been trying to suppress.

"Yeah," Jorn replies, keeping her voice even.

The gate creaks open with a heavy groan, and the group moves out. The early morning light casts long shadows across the road ahead, making every shape and movement seem distorted, like a bad dream.

Harrem and Brady are up front, exchanging quiet banter, their nerves showing in their too-loud laughter. Yosef brings up the rear, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.

Jorn sticks close to Mara, her eyes forward, searching the horizon for any signs of movement. The world is silent except for the occasional wind rustling through the abandoned structures around them.

They move through the outskirts of the camp in formation, sticking to the route Del had mapped out. The streets are empty, though the lingering presence of The Rot is everywhere—rotting bodies in the gutters, bloody hand marks on the walls, signs of their presence but no movement in sight.

After about thirty minutes of walking, they reach the first checkpoint—an old gas station that has long since been ransacked. Harrem signals the group to stop, his hand up as he crouches low behind a rusted-out car. The rest of them follow suit, taking cover behind debris or whatever's available.

Jorn glances over at Mara, who's crouched next to her behind an overturned barrel. Mara meets her gaze, giving a quick nod. They both wait, tension thrumming between them, as Harrem peers through a broken window into the station.

"All clear," Harrem mutters after a moment, standing up. He signals for them to move on.

Just as they're about to stand, there's a noise—a low, guttural groan from the side of the building. Jorn's breath catches in her throat, her body rigid as she grips her rifle tighter. The others freeze, their eyes snapping toward the sound.