Welcome to the End

Chapter 03: Strength in Numbers

"What's that badge on your belt," the older woman asked, pointing at Kevin's belt with her submachine gun.

"It's mine," Kevin answered. Although it was a strain on his arm to keep the bowstring tight, he held on and maintained the aim of his readied arrow.

"Did you kill the owner of it to make it yours?" a man's voice questioned from behind him, and Kevin assumed it was the man holding the rifle pointed at his back.

"I was issued this badge before the outbreak," Kevin declared. "What about you? Have you killed anyone lately for their stuff?"

It was risky provoking the strangers since they had him outflanked, outnumbered, and outgunned, but Kevin realized he couldn't hold the bow tight forever; the moment he was forced to relax, they could eliminate him without his ability to return fire. He had to move things along quickly to a conclusion.

"Only zombies and the few scavenger teams we've baited," the woman told him.

"You baited the scavengers?" Kevin asked incredulously.

"How else are we supposed to obtain high end supplies?" the woman inquired. "The scavengers took everything the survivors haven't already exhausted. The only other way would be insane, going into the city."

"What about you?" the male voice questioned from over Kevin's shoulder. "What are you doing out here?"

"Besides killing scavengers to save people on the road?" Kevin suggested. "Just call me insane."

"You went into the city?" the woman asked in total shock.

"If we can all put down our weapons, I'll show you what I got, and even share," Kevin offered.

A crunch of gravel reached his ears as the rifleman standing behind Kevin slowly came around to stand beside the woman. When he came into view, it surprised Kevin to see the gunman dressed in all black with a white clerical collar of a priest around his neck.

"Your offer is generous," the priest said. "How do we know it's the truth and not a trap?"

"You don't know," Kevin admitted. "Just as I don't know I can trust either if you."

The priest didn't lower his rifle, but he did adjust his aim slightly so it didn't point directly at Kevin anymore. Kevin reciprocated by easing the tension on his bowstring, but he didn't fully let down his guard until the old woman also lowered her submachine gun.

As the three of them gradually stood down from the potential massacre, Kevin took a steadying breath and tried to ignore the muscles in his arm complaining.

"I suppose an introduction is in order," Kevin suggested. "I'm Kevin Scott, former police officer."

"George Navarro," the priest identified, resting his rifle against his shoulder.

"And, I'm Isabella Kressel," the old woman said happily, casually holding her submachine gun as one might cradle a newborn. "Where do you hail from, and where are you headed?"

"I'm actually from around here," Kevin answered the first question. "As to where I'm going, I hadn't decided. When the whole world has fallen apart, one direction is about as good as another."

"Usually that would be true," George commented, tugged slightly on his priest collar.

"What do you mean?" Kevin prompted.

"We've been encountering zombies more and more the further east we go," Isabella told him. "It's not just the cities; we're finding them everywhere, and in larger numbers. It's getting so you can't spit without hitting one."