Zombie survivor

[83] Breaking the news

The camp's makeshift cafeteria was no less grim in the evening than it had been in the morning. The same dented metal bowls, the same watery excuse for food, and the same tired faces filled the room. The teens sat at a table near the back, their bowls clinking faintly against the scratched surface. No one was in the mood for conversation at first; the weight of the day's labor hung heavily over them.

Jean poked at his bowl, the watery stew sloshing back and forth without much resistance. There were a few chunks of something—maybe potatoes, maybe not—but it was hardly enough to fill his stomach. He didn't care about the food right now, though. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Morgan and Ms. Heather..." He paused, glancing around the table. "They're not doing good."

The group looked up, their faces reflecting varying degrees of concern and frustration. Brittany stopped mid-sip from her tin cup, her pink-dyed hair falling in front of her eyes as she leaned forward. "What do you mean, 'not good'?" she asked. "Like, bad bad?"

"Yeah, bad bad," Jean replied, his voice tight. "Morgan's wound... Akira said it's already starting to look infected. And Ms. Heather's leg might be broken. Without real treatment, they're both screwed."

"Fuck," Brad muttered, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "What the hell are we supposed to do? This place doesn't exactly scream 'state-of-the-art hospital.'"

"Yeah, no shit," Brittany chimed in, crossing her arms. "They barely have food, let alone medicine. It's a miracle this whole camp hasn't keeled over already."

Evan, sitting to Jean's right, looked down at his bowl, his face pale. "Can't they just... I don't know, find some antibiotics or something? Isn't there, like, a stash somewhere?"

"If there was, we'd already be using it," Jean said bitterly. "This camp's been raided so many times, they've got nothing left."

Tyler leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on two legs. "So what, we just sit here and wait for them to die? That's fucked up, bro."

"No one's waiting for anything," Jean snapped, his frustration boiling over. "But what else can we do? We don't have supplies. We don't have a plan. We don't have—"

"Yo, chill," Jordan interrupted, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't blow a gasket, man. I'm just saying, there might be a way."

Jean's eyes snapped to Jordan, narrowing. "What do you mean?"

Jordan grinned, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I overheard some people talking earlier. They're putting together a scavenging party. Gonna head out tomorrow or something to look for supplies."

The table went silent. For a moment, the only sound was the faint clinking of bowls and murmurs from the other tables.

"Scavenging party?" Brittany repeated, her voice skeptical. "What kind of supplies are we talking about?"

"Shit we need," Jordan said, shrugging. "Food, tools, medicine—whatever they can find."

Jean sat up straighter, his mind racing. "Did they say where they're going?"

Jordan hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh... West Kelowna, I think? Or somewhere nearby. I wasn't really paying attention to the details."

"Of course you weren't," Chloe muttered, rolling her eyes. "God forbid you listen to something useful for once."

"Yo, chill, queen," Jordan said, smirking. "I'm just the messenger. Don't shoot me."

"Did they say where to find them?" Jean asked urgently. "The scavenging party, I mean. Where are they meeting?"

Jordan shook his head. "No clue, man. I didn't catch that part."

Jean let out a frustrated sigh, slumping back in his seat. "Great. That's helpful."

"Hey, I told you what I know," Jordan said defensively. "If you wanna go play Indiana Jones, that's on you."

Brad leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "So what's the plan, Jean? You gonna go chasing after these scavenger dudes and hope they let you tag along?"

"If it gets us what we need, yeah," Jean said, his voice firm. "Morgan and Ms. Heather don't have time for us to sit around and do nothing."

Brittany raised an eyebrow. "And what happens if you don't find them? Or if you do, and they tell you to fuck off?"

"Then I'll figure something else out," Jean replied, his tone sharp. "I'm not giving up."

Evan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But, like... isn't that dangerous? I mean, West Kelowna's already been raided, right? What if there are still raiders out there? Or zombies?"

"There's always gonna be danger," Jean said. "But sitting here and doing nothing isn't any safer."

Brad nodded reluctantly. "He's got a point. Sitting on our asses isn't gonna fix anything."

"Yeah, but running off half-cocked isn't exactly a genius move either," Chloe said, crossing her arms. "You don't even know where to start looking."

"We'll figure it out," Jean said, his voice resolute. "We don't have another choice."

The group fell silent again, the weight of the situation settling over them like a thick fog. No one wanted to admit it, but Jean was right—they were out of options. And while the thought of scavenging in a hostile environment was terrifying, the alternative was worse.

After a long pause, Tyler broke the silence. "Yo, if we're gonna do this, we're gonna need a plan. Like, an actual plan. None of that 'winging it' bullshit."

Jean nodded, his jaw set. "Agreed. First thing tomorrow, we start asking around. Someone in this camp knows where the scavenging party is meeting."

"And if they don't?" Brittany asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

"Then we figure out where to go on our own," Jean said. "We're not giving up."

The determination in his voice was enough to quiet any further objections, at least for now. The group went back to their meals, though the stew was even harder to stomach with the weight of the conversation hanging over them.

Jean's mind was already spinning, formulating ideas and possibilities. He didn't know how they were going to pull this off, but one thing was certain—he wasn't going to let Morgan and Ms. Heather die without a fight.

For better or worse, tomorrow was going to be a turning point. And Jean was ready to do whatever it took to make it count.

Q: How would you break out bad news to people?