Zombie survivor

[33] The plan

As the sun climbed over the Nevada horizon, the group sat clustered around the dusty bus at the edge of the small, deserted town. Morgan stood in front of them, her arms crossed, staring down the group with a hard look as she mapped out the day's plan.

"Alright, listen up," Morgan began, her voice low and commanding. "We need a tire, and this place might have one if there's still an auto shop intact. Our goal is to get in, grab what we need, and get out. Don't waste time, don't wander off, and for fuck's sake, don't try to be a hero. There's no backup here—just us."

She paused, scanning each of them with her icy blue eyes. "If we're lucky, we'll only deal with zombies. If we're not... well, let's hope it's just zombies."

The group exchanged uneasy glances. Jean swallowed hard, clutching the AK-47 strapped across his chest. Evan pumped his shotgun, clearly trying to look more confident than he felt, while Chloe shifted on her feet, inspecting the grip on her Sig Sauer with a reluctant frown.

Morgan pointed to the town map she had spread out on the ground. "The auto shop is a block and a half from here, right down Main Street. That's our primary target. We go in groups, cover all sides, and keep our heads on a swivel."

"Can't we just, like, rush in and rush out?" Chloe muttered, rolling her eyes. "I'm not here to play Call of Duty with a bunch of zombies."

"Then don't," Morgan snapped back. "If you can't follow orders, stay here. I don't need anyone slowing us down."

Brittney let out a scoff, crossing her arms. "Maybe some of us are actually serious about not getting killed today, unlike others." She shot Chloe a glare, flicking her pink hair over her shoulder.

Morgan raised her hand, silencing them before the argument could flare up. "Enough. We don't have time for drama. Everyone get your gear ready. Let's go over what you've got."

Jean stepped forward first, lifting his AK-47 with a slightly shaky grip. "I'm good, Morgan," he said, his voice firming as he met her gaze. "Safety's on, loaded, just like you showed me."

"Good," Morgan replied, giving him a nod. "You're up front with me. Keep your eyes sharp and don't fire unless you're sure."

Evan grinned, holding up his Remington 870 shotgun. He pumped it once, clearly enjoying the weight of the weapon in his hands. "Ready to blast anything that moves," he said, his voice barely hiding his excitement.

Morgan gave him a hard look. "That thing kicks hard, Evan. Aim right, and don't waste ammo."

Luca shuffled forward, holding his Glock 19 with both hands. He swallowed, glancing nervously at Morgan. "Uh, yeah, I got the Glock," he mumbled. "Hope I don't, like, accidentally shoot my foot or something."

Morgan gave him a reassuring nod. "You'll be fine. Stick with Evan and keep your finger off the trigger unless you're ready to shoot."

Brad strutted up next, flashing a cocky grin as he held his Desert Eagle with one hand, the heavy gun looking almost ridiculous in his grip. "The big guy's here. Ain't nobody getting past us with this bad boy, right?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Try not to blow your hand off, tough guy. That thing's got more recoil than you think. Aim carefully, or you're more of a liability than an asset."

Jordan sauntered up, twirling his Smith & Wesson revolver with a grin. "Dead-eye Jordan, ready for action," he said, striking a ridiculous pose. "Can't wait to go all Wild West on some zombie ass."

"Keep it serious, Jordan," Morgan said flatly. "Cover Brad on the right side, and don't get cocky. You make a mistake, and someone else pays for it."

Brittney stepped forward, her Beretta held confidently at her side. She shot Morgan a sharp nod. "I'm good. Ready to go, and ready to keep the deadweight in line." She flicked her gaze toward Chloe and Blake, who looked less certain.