Zombie survivor

[84] The stakes

The midday sun hung high in the sky, casting harsh light over the ruined camp. The clang of metal tools and the shuffling of feet filled the air as the survivors worked tirelessly to rebuild the settlement. Jean wiped sweat from his brow as he hauled a plank of wood to the ever-growing pile near the construction site. His muscles ached from the relentless labor, but his mind was elsewhere—focused on what he'd overheard from Jordan the night before.

Lunch break came with the sharp ring of a bell, and the workers scattered toward the food station. Jean hesitated, glancing toward his supervisor, a wiry man with a perpetually grim expression who was leaning against a post, sipping from a dented canteen. Jean took a deep breath and approached.

"Uh, hey," Jean started, his voice wavering slightly. "Can I ask you something?"

The supervisor raised an eyebrow, his face etched with fatigue and irritation. "What do you want, kid?"

Jean shifted awkwardly, glancing around before lowering his voice. "I heard about a scavenging team getting ready to head out. Do you know where they're meeting?"

The man squinted at him, his lips tightening. "Why the hell do you care?"

"I... I want to join them," Jean said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I need to find them."

The supervisor snorted, shaking his head. "You've got a death wish or something? Those runs ain't for kids like you."

"I don't have a choice," Jean said firmly. "It's important."

The man stared at him for a long moment, his eyes searching Jean's face as if trying to gauge whether he was serious. Finally, he sighed and pointed toward the far end of the camp. "There's a building on the east side, past the old bus lot. Got a poster out front. That's where they're meeting."

Jean nodded quickly. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," the supervisor said, taking another swig from his canteen. "You're just wasting your time."

Jean ignored the comment, already turning to head in the direction the man had pointed out. He walked with purpose, weaving through the maze of makeshift structures and debris until he reached the east side of the camp. The area was quieter, more isolated, with fewer people around. The building in question stood out—it was larger than the others, its walls reinforced with scrap metal and planks of wood. A faded poster was tacked to the front door, the words "Scavenging Recruitment" scrawled in bold, uneven letters.

Jean hesitated for only a moment before pushing the door open.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by a few hanging lanterns, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and rust. A long table sat in the center of the room, covered in maps, tools, and random supplies. Standing behind it was a rugged-looking man, his broad shoulders hunched as he inspected a piece of equipment. He had a grizzled beard streaked with gray, a thick scar running from his temple to his jawline, and a shotgun slung over his back. His weathered face spoke of countless battles and even more regrets.

The man glanced up as Jean entered, his piercing eyes narrowing. "What do you want, kid?"

Jean swallowed hard but forced himself to step forward. "I'm here to help. I want to join the scavenging team."

The man barked out a laugh, the sound harsh and dismissive. "You? Join us? Look at you—you're just a damn twig. You'd get yourself eaten before we even got out of the camp."

Jean clenched his fists, his face flushing with embarrassment and frustration. "I don't care what you think. I don't have a choice. My loved one's life is on the line."

The man's laughter faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. He set down the piece of equipment he'd been holding and leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Your loved one, huh? Who are we talking about?"

Jean hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "Two people. One's a teacher. The other... she saved my life. They're both hurt bad. If I don't find supplies, they're not gonna make it."

The man's expression softened for a moment, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a cold, steely resolve. He let out a heavy sigh and straightened up, crossing his arms. "Look, kid, I get it. But this ain't no charity mission. Scavenging ain't just dangerous—it's suicide. We're going into places that are crawling with raiders and the infected. People twice your size and ten times as experienced don't come back."

"I don't care," Jean said, his voice firm. "If I don't do something, they're gonna die. I can't let that happen."

The man stared at him for a long time, his eyes unreadable. Finally, he shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Goddamn kids and their hero complexes..."

He stepped around the table, towering over Jean. "Alright, here's the deal. I'll let you join, but if you die out there, that's on you. I'm not responsible for you. You get bitten, you get shot, you get your dumb ass eaten—your problem, not mine. Got it?"

Jean nodded quickly. "Got it."

"And don't think for a second I'm gonna go easy on you," the man added, his tone sharp. "You want to run with my team, you pull your weight. No whining, no slowing us down, and no running off to play hero. You listen to my orders, or I'll leave your sorry ass behind. Understand?"

"Yes," Jean said, his voice steady despite the knot of fear tightening in his chest.

The man's lips curled into a faint smirk, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You've got guts, kid. I'll give you that. Stupid, but gutsy."

He extended a calloused hand. "Name's Garrett. I run this little operation."

Jean shook his hand, the grip firm and unyielding. "Jean. Thanks for giving me a chance."

"Don't thank me yet," Garrett said, releasing his hand. "You've got a lot to prove. Be here tomorrow at dawn, ready to go. Bring whatever gear you've got—if you don't have any, you're shit out of luck."

Jean nodded. "I'll be here."

Garrett turned back to the table, already dismissing him. "Get out of here, then. You've got work to do."

Jean didn't need to be told twice. He turned and left the building, his heart pounding as he stepped back into the sunlight. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of his mind, but so was determination.

Tomorrow, he would head out with Garrett's team. He didn't know what they would face or if he would even make it back alive. But he knew one thing for certain: he couldn't let Morgan and Ms. Heather down.

Failure wasn't an option.

Q: Would you want to be on a scavenging team in this situation?