Gazing quietly at Sarah, Brian reflected on her words and realized she was trapped in a self-made cycle of guilt.
Any normal person wouldn't have such an absurd thought. They might feel helplessness, yes—but never blame themselves entirely. But the trauma from childhood had deeply scarred Sarah's mind, and with no one to guide her, it had spiraled into this state.
Thinking this, Brian gave a bitter smile. He had been there when Sylvia died. But back then, with raiders and infected appearing constantly, his mind was focused on fighting enemies. He hadn't even noticed what was happening.
—Sarah, I want you to know—this isn't your fault.
After a moment of thought, he decided to speak. Gently, he lifted her lowered head and said:
—Sylvia's death wasn't your fault either. Back then… we really were powerless.
He pressed his forehead gently against hers and continued:
—You don't need to carry every burden. That in itself is wrong. Alive or dead, as long as we've done our best, as long as we can face ourselves with a clear conscience, that's enough. No one is God. Doctors are just people in this vast world—trying to snatch lives from the hands of death.
Hearing Brian's words, Sarah fell silent. Her eyes lowered, sitting there without speaking.
But after years of living together, Brian knew from her expression that his words had reached her heart. He didn't say more. Even the comfort of a loved one could only help so much. The key was for her to come to terms with it herself.
—You're so good…
Not knowing how long they had sat in silence, Sarah slowly lifted her head, instinctively reaching to wipe her tears—only to realize her face was dry. Somehow, without her noticing, Brian had already wiped her tears clean with a tissue.
A warm sweetness filled her heart. She lowered her head and gently kissed Brian's cheek, whispering softly.
—Heh, I'm glad you're okay.
Seeing Sarah smile sincerely again, Brian let out a quiet breath of relief. Though he could feel her emotional burden wasn't fully gone, her state had clearly improved. It didn't matter. This wasn't something that could be rushed. Taking it step by step was fine.
—Oh! —Sarah suddenly sat up straight—. I heard something at the hospital recently. They said that in one week, a mail convoy will leave the quarantine zone for Pittsburgh.
—Huh? What about it?
Brian looked at her, puzzled. A mail convoy leaving Atlanta for another quarantine zone wasn't particularly unusual. But he knew that if she mentioned it, there had to be more to it.
Seeing Brian didn't understand, Sarah glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then whispered:
—My senior brother told me… this might be the last time the quarantine zone sends a mail convoy.
—What?
Brian's pupils shrank. He stared at Sarah in shock.
Since the disaster, while the quarantine zones had sheltered many survivors, they had also separated countless families. Once the zones stabilized, to comfort the displaced, the Washington government ordered that every six months, a mail convoy would travel between zones, delivering letters so people could know if their loved ones in other zones were still alive.
Even Brian, unable to go to Washington, had sent letters to his "parents," hoping for a reply. Though he'd never received one, and didn't know if they were still alive, it gave him a small comfort.
When they came to Atlanta, it was also to find the "parents" of this body and seek safety. But as a child, with Washington closed to outsiders and no replies coming, he eventually gave up.
Even during the years of the Resistance Army, the mail convoys were among the safest. The rebels were still human—they had loved ones far away too. When they encountered a mail convoy, they silently chose to let it pass.
But now, even this last "bridge" to other quarantine zones was about to vanish. Brian could imagine the chaos this would cause inside the zone, and how the Resistance would exploit it.
—Don't worry. This won't be announced publicly.
Sarah, sensing his thoughts, whispered:
—They said even though they're canceling deliveries, they'll still collect letters. They just won't send them—they'll destroy them here.
—Hah, you're thinking too simply.
Brian shook his head, disagreeing.
—You know how the quarantine zone is now. No secret stays hidden forever. The Resistance will find out. It's only a matter of time.
He narrowed his eyes.
—A message like this—one that could trigger unrest—if revealed early, could be contained. But if they hide it in silence… if I were with the Resistance, I'd grab this secret and hold it tight. When launching a major operation, I'd use it to incite the people. Then, the quarantine zone government wouldn't stand a chance.
More thoughts came. Brian felt a faint headache.
—It probably won't be long before the quarantine zone descends into chaos again.
—Enough. Don't think so much. Don't we have an evacuation plan? If things go bad, we can leave early.
After hearing his analysis, Sarah felt the quarantine zone's decision was poorly considered. Seeing Brian's pained expression, she worried and gently massaged his temples with her fingers.
—Uf~
Brian slowly closed his eyes, enjoying Sarah's fingers massaging his head. He sighed in comfort.
—I don't want to deal with this, but the earlier we know, the earlier we can prepare. If we're caught off guard, even the best evacuation plan won't help.
—Mm, you decide.
Hugging Brian's head, Sarah silently regretted her helplessness. After so many years together, she knew better than anyone how much effort he'd put in.
Analyzing intelligence, monitoring the Resistance Army, negotiating between soldiers and smugglers, gathering their supplies at the risk of his life… he did it all.
—A few days ago, Sister Anna came to see me. She said it's been a long time since she last saw you. She asked me to tell you to visit them when you got back.
—Mm… I know. In a couple of days, we'll go together.
They stayed in quiet warmth a while longer, until Sarah had to return to the hospital. Then they left the small park and went their separate ways.
For some, life in the quarantine zone was extremely harsh. But for others, apart from missions, it was surprisingly peaceful. And Brian belonged to the latter.
After parting with Sarah, Brian wandered aimlessly through the streets. That was the downside of the apocalypse—no electronic devices, no way to pass the time.
The supplies collected yesterday were already with Noslen. It would take two or three days to bring them all in. Chen Shi was settled—no need for much care. So, thinking about it, Brian actually had nothing to do.
—Well, since I've got nothing else, I'll go visit them.
Thinking it over, Brian realized he hadn't seen the others in a while. He'd been meaning to gather them soon. He could ask when they'd be free.
In order of priority, Alan was at the school—the closest location. But at this time, he'd definitely be training hard on the field. Brian decided not to disturb him.
Alan would be on vacation tomorrow, so Brian wasn't in a rush. Besides, in six months, Alan would graduate. They'd need to discuss where he'd go next.
With Alan ruled out, Brian turned his gaze toward Zone E, toward a large, striking building.