Zombie survivor

[90] The countdown

The convoy rumbled to a halt near the edge of the bridge. The sun had risen now, bathing the world in golden light that felt almost out of place in the grim reality of their mission. The barricade on the bridge, a haphazard construction of rusted cars and barbed wire, was slowly being dismantled by members of the militia, clearing the way for the scavengers to cross.

As the trucks idled, the teens in the back peered out over the Okanagan Lake. Despite everything—the apocalypse, the death, the destruction—the lake was breathtakingly beautiful. The glassy surface mirrored the rising sun, turning the water into a shimmering canvas of orange and gold. Mist hung low over the shoreline, giving the scene an ethereal quality that made it hard to believe the world had ended.

"Damn," Brad muttered, leaning over the side of the truck bed. "It's actually kinda... nice."

"Yeah," Jean said softly, his eyes fixed on the water. "Almost makes you forget everything else."

"Don't get too comfortable," Garrett barked from the lead truck, snapping them out of their reverie. "That lake's full of corpses, just like everything else. Keep your head in the game."

The convoy began to move again, the trucks groaning as they rolled onto the bridge. The sound of tires crunching over loose debris echoed eerily in the still air. The group stayed quiet as they crossed, the enormity of the moment sinking in. This wasn't just a scavenging run—it was a gamble with their lives.

On the other side, East Kelowna loomed like a decaying monument to what used to be. The streets were eerily quiet, lined with burned-out cars and crumbling buildings. Windows were shattered, storefronts gutted, and the faint smell of rot hung in the air. It was a ghost town, but not an empty one. Everyone knew what could be lurking in the shadows.

The convoy pulled to a stop at the edge of the city, just outside a cluster of overgrown trees and abandoned homes. Garrett jumped out of the lead truck, gesturing for the others to unload.

"Alright," he called, his voice gruff. "This is as far as the trucks go. We're not risking the vehicles inside the city. You've got four hours. You're late? We're gone. No exceptions."

The teens climbed out of the trucks, their movements stiff from the long ride. They began unloading their gear—backpacks, weapons, and the few supplies they'd been allotted. Brittany struggled with her pack again, muttering curses under her breath as Brad wordlessly helped her for the second time that morning.

As they gathered in a loose circle, Garrett stepped forward, his sharp eyes scanning the group. "You know the rules. Stay quiet, stay sharp, and don't waste time. Loot's the name of the game. Medicine, food, tools, ammo—anything useful. Bring it back or don't bother coming back at all."

"What about... you know... the undead?" Evan asked hesitantly, gripping his pistol tightly.

Garrett smirked, though there was no humor in it. "You see one, you kill it. You see a group, you run. Simple."

"Simple, he says," Chloe muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Garrett ignored her, taking one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and grinding it out with his boot. "Four hours. Your time starts now."

The group exchanged nervous glances, the weight of the moment settling over them. Jean took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Alright, let's split up. Two teams. Better coverage that way."

"Good call," Blake said, nodding. "We'll cover more ground."

"Or get picked off faster," Chloe muttered, but she didn't object.

"Alright, team captains," Brad said, crossing his arms. "Who's calling the shots?"

Jean hesitated for a moment before stepping up. "I'll take one team. Brad, you take the other."