The morning sky was a dull shade of gray — the kind that promised neither light nor mercy.
Five of them stood outside the camp's broken gate, each armed with what scraps the armory could spare. Their target: a small medical supply store a few blocks away, untouched according to the last scouting report.
Ben, the acting leader for the day, barked orders with a soldier's confidence that didn't quite hide the tremor in his voice. "We lure the undead away from the area first, got it? Once they follow the noise, we sweep the building, grab what we can, and get out before they circle back. Simple."
Simple, Sasha thought, loading her pistol. That word never belonged in this world anymore.
The team was mostly rookies — wide-eyed survivors clutching their guns like talismans. Dylan adjusted his glasses, checking the safety on his rifle for the third time.
He wasn't shaking, but Sasha saw the tension in his jaw.
