Nathaniel woke to the sound of brakes hissing.
His neck hurt. His back was stiff. And for a moment, he forgot where he was. The inside of the truck was dim and smelled like a mix of sweat, diesel, and wet dog. People were stretching, rubbing their eyes, murmuring to each other.
He glanced at his phone — dead. He didn't even know what time it was anymore.They'd left before sunrise, and now, as he squinted through the small window flap at the back of the truck, the sky was turning orange, the sun dipping low behind the trees.
They had arrived.
The truck slowed to a crawl, tires crunching on gravel. Nathan sat up straighter, pushing past a dad holding his sleeping kid, and looked out.
The first thing he saw were the fences.
Two layers of them — tall, metal, topped with coils of razor wire that glimmered in the fading light. They surrounded the entire perimeter like a steel cage, with guard towers at each corner. Soldiers patrolled between the fences, rifles slung over their shoulders, their silhouettes cutting sharp against the sunset.
Beyond that was the camp itself.
Nestled in the woods, it almost looked like some kind of rustic summer retreat at first glance. Rows of long wooden cabins were spread out across the clearing, each connected by neat cemented paths that snaked between piles of fallen autumn leaves. Picnic tables were scattered around, some already occupied by families unpacking their belongings. There was even an American flag on a tall pole in the center of the camp, flapping gently in the wind.
But the more Nathan looked, the less it felt like summer camp.
Military trucks were parked near the entrance, engines rumbling quietly. Soldiers were stationed at the gates, checking papers and IDs as new arrivals stepped down from the transports. The double-fence perimeter was too heavy for anything "temporary." And the spotlights mounted on poles around the camp made it clear: this place was meant to keep people in as much as keep anything out.
The truck came to a full stop. A soldier climbed up to the tailgate, banging on the metal wall to get everyone's attention.
Soldier: "Alright! Everybody off! Grab your things and line up by the markers on the ground! Let's move!"
The back door clanged open, and sunlight spilled in. Nathan slung his backpack over one shoulder and grabbed his suitcase, blinking as the cool air hit his face.
Outside, the camp smelled like pine and damp earth. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear a loudspeaker crackling with instructions. People shuffled off the truck one by one — tired, disoriented, clutching bags, children, or pets.
Aaron stepped down beside him, adjusting his jacket.
Aaron: "Home sweet home…" (dryly)
Nathan didn't answer. His eyes traced the fences again, the barbed wire catching the light like a warning. He remembered Emma's texts — "Feels like summer camp 😂" — and felt a weird chill settle in his chest.
Because standing there, watching soldiers direct tired families through a checkpoint under the orange sky, it didn't feel like camp at all.It felt like the start of something they couldn't undo.
The Robinsons joined the line like everyone else, shuffling forward slowly toward the processing checkpoint at the camp's entrance.
Soldiers had set up a makeshift barricade — a couple of metal tables, scanners, and two laptops powered by a noisy generator. Each family stopped in front of the officers, handed over their IDs, and waited while a soldier scanned the barcodes and checked them against the CDC registry.
The line stretched down the cemented path, families clutching their suitcases, kids leaning against parents, pets whining nervously. There was a quiet buzz of whispers, the kind that carried unease beneath the surface.
Nathan stood between Aaron and his mom, his backpack hanging off one shoulder, the suitcase handle digging into his palm. He could feel his heart beating in his chest like a drum.
What if the fake IDs didn't work?What if the scanners picked something up?What if—
Something tugged at his jeans.
Nathan glanced down.A little girl, maybe six or seven, with messy blonde hair and a pink jacket, was staring up at him with the biggest smile he'd seen in days. She clutched a worn-out teddy bear in her free hand, her other hand still gripping his jeans.
Nathaniel: (softly, awkward) "Uh… hey?"
She tilted her head, still smiling, eyes sparkling like she was waiting for him to say something funny.
Before he could react, a voice shouted from a distance:
Man's voice: "Jen! Get over here!"
The girl's face lit up even more. She let go of Nathan's jeans and ran back toward a man near the middle of the line, presumably her dad, teddy bear bouncing with each step.
She turned once mid-run to wave at Nathaniel, grinning like they were old friends, then vanished into the sea of people.
Nathan blinked, caught off guard. For a second, the tension in his chest loosened.She reminded him of how normal everything used to be. School. Parks. Random little kids saying hi at grocery stores.
But then his eyes returned to the soldiers at the front, scanning IDs one by one. A family just ahead of them was being waved through after a beep from the machine. Another soldier motioned to the next.
The line kept moving.His stomach tightened again.
Mom: (whispering) "Just stay calm. Hand them the cards. Smile."Aaron: (low) "They're not going to smile back, Mom."
They were only three families away now. Nathan could see the scanner lights flashing red and green, could hear the soft beep each time a code was read. A soldier with mirrored sunglasses stood by, watching everyone like a hawk.
Nathan swallowed hard. His hand brushed against the fake ID card in his jacket pocket.
This was it.
The scanner beeped green.One by one, the soldiers handed the Robinsons back their IDs and waved them through the gate.
They were in.
A young soldier with a clipboard guided them down a cemented path, through rows of cabins that looked identical—long wood-paneled structures with tin roofs and small porches out front. Families were everywhere, hauling suitcases, calming kids, trying to figure out where they belonged.
Soldier: "Cabin 47. Down that path, second on the left. You'll find beds inside, power outlets, basic furnishings. There's a communal cafeteria and showers near the center of camp. Curfew's at 9 p.m. Don't wander outside the perimeter. Enjoy your stay."
"Enjoy your stay." Nathan almost laughed at that.
They found Cabin 23 tucked between two others, its small porch covered in crunchy autumn leaves. His dad pushed the door open, and a musty wooden smell rushed out. Inside were four beds, a small table, two lamps, a small kitchen and one small bathroom with a shower. The walls were bare, the floor creaked, and the single window faced the main clearing.
But it had electricity. It had a door that locked. And for now, that was enough.
They started unpacking in silence. Nathan threw his backpack on a bed and plugged in his phone, watching the battery icon finally light up. His brother stretched out on the opposite bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling while scrolling absently through his phone.
Their mom immediately went into "nesting mode"—she unpacked folded sheets, taped a photo of the family on the wall above her bed, and even placed a small scented candle by the window.
Mom: (softly, to herself) "If we're staying here… it's going to feel like home."
His dad clapped his hands together once, drawing everyone's attention.
Dad: "Alright, listen up."
They turned toward him. He stood in the middle of the cabin, trying to sound firm and optimistic, but Nathan could see the exhaustion behind his eyes.
Dad: "This is temporary. You hear me? We're gonna stay here, keep our heads down, and before we know it, we'll be back home. This isn't forever. It's just until the government sorts this mess out."
Nathan watched his mom nod, trying to believe it. Aaron didn't say anything.
After that, their dad grabbed his jacket and stepped back outside, saying he was going to ask the soldiers and camp staff for information—where they were exactly, how long they'd stay, what the schedule was. Nathan saw him briefly through the window later, chatting with a group of other dads near the flagpole, hands in his pockets like they were just neighbors talking on a normal evening.
His mom kept decorating, humming quietly under her breath. She even put a small cloth on the table and arranged some snacks she'd packed, like they were setting up for a road trip instead of a relocation camp.
Nathan lay on his bed, scrolling through his phone, battery finally climbing back up. Notifications flooded in, most of them old. Group chats were chaos—memes, news, rumors, panic, but none of his friends were answering his texts, he just read conversations his friends had while his phone was out of battery. Nothing new. Nothing helpful.
Eventually, he sat up and wandered toward the window.
Outside, the camp was alive. Families were still arriving, tired and confused, soldiers were unloading boxes from trucks, kids were chasing each other along the paths, dogs barked, and the flag flapped lazily in the late afternoon breeze. For a moment, it almost looked… normal.
Almost.
Aaron came up behind him, standing shoulder-to-shoulder by the window.
Aaron: "Hard to believe this is real, huh?"
Nathaniel: (quietly) "Yeah."
They watched in silence as a group of soldiers helped unload a family's luggage, while another group set up floodlights near the fence line.
Aaron: "If what Morales said is true… this place is a time bomb."
Nathan glanced at him.
Nathaniel: "Yeah. If the vaccine caused it… then half these people could be infected already. Just waiting to change."
Aaron crossed his arms.
Aaron: "Or maybe… it already happened. Think about it. All those cities that fell—they fell fast. Like, overnight. If there's a mutation period, maybe everyone who was gonna turn… already did."
Nathan looked out again. Families were laughing. Someone was grilling hot dogs near a table. A group of kids rode scooters around like they were on vacation.
Nathaniel: "So you're saying… we're surrounded by survivors. Not carriers."
Aaron: "Maybe. Or maybe this is just the calm before the storm."
The thought made Nathan's stomach tighten. He didn't say anything. He just kept watching the people outside, trying to imagine what this place would look like if even one of them suddenly turned into whatever was out there.
The double fences didn't feel so comforting anymore.
Nathan didn't even realize when he fell asleep.One moment he was lying on the bed, staring blankly at his phone screen. The next, he was blinking awake to the sound of his mom's voice and the smell of food drifting faintly through the window.
Mom: (gently shaking him) "Nate, honey. Wake up. Dinner time."
He sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes. Outside, night had already settled over the camp. The floodlights around the perimeter cast long white beams across the paths, cutting through the darkness like stage lights. From somewhere down the hill, he could hear chatter, laughter, and the metallic clatter of trays.
His dad was already by the door, jacket on.
Dad: "Come on, bud. Cafeteria's open. Let's eat before the line gets crazy."
Nathan grabbed his hoodie and followed the rest of the family out. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying the earthy scent of pine trees and smoke from a distant fire pit. Along the paths, dozens of families were heading in the same direction, their silhouettes moving beneath the floodlights like a slow procession.
They eventually reached the camp cafeteria — a long, rectangular building with big windows glowing warm yellow from inside. Soldiers were posted at the entrance, but their presence was relaxed here. Families shuffled through in groups, picking up trays and sitting at rows of communal tables.
Inside, the cafeteria buzzed with life.The smell of stew and bread filled the air. Voices overlapped in a steady hum. For the first time in what felt like forever, people were gathered together without panic, just… existing.
Nathan grabbed a tray and followed his family through the line. He was halfway down the row of tables when he heard someone shouting his name.
???: "NATHAN!!!"
He turned just in time to see Matt barreling through the crowd toward him, his face lit up like it was Christmas morning.
Nathaniel: "Matt?!"
They closed the distance fast and collided in a tight, almost desperate hug. Nathan actually laughed — really laughed — for the first time since this all started.
Matt: (voice cracking) "Holy shit, man, I thought— I didn't know if you guys made it!"
Nathaniel: "I didn't know if you did!"
Behind Nathan, his parents and Aaron caught up, and Matt immediately threw his arms around them too.
Matt: "Oh my God, Mrs. Robinson!" (hugging her) "Mr. Robinson!" (hugging his dad)
Mom: (laughing through tears) "Matthew!"
Dad: (grinning, patting his back) "Look at you, kid. You're alright."
Matt turned, waving frantically across the room.
Matt: "Hey! Over here! Mom! Dad!"
His parents spotted them and hurried over, faces breaking into wide smiles. And then, suddenly, everyone was hugging at once—Nathan's family and Matt's family in one big, messy, beautiful pile. For a brief moment, the cafeteria wasn't a relocation camp.
It was just people. Families. Friends. Alive.
Nathan caught Aaron's eyes over someone's shoulder. His brother wasn't exactly the hugging type, but even he was smiling a little.
For the first time since they'd arrived, Nathan felt something close to hope.
Days started to blur together at Redwater.
Morning announcements crackled through the camp's loudspeakers like clockwork, calling families to daily briefings, handing out assignments, and announcing curfews. By the third day, the Robinsons' lives had slipped into a rhythm that was almost… normal.
Almost.
Nathan woke up every morning to the sound of kids rushing along the paths outside, their shoes crunching on gravel and leaves as they hurried to the camp's makeshift school. The classrooms were just converted cabins with whiteboards nailed to the walls and desks crammed inside. Attendance wasn't optional.
"All minors must enroll," a soldier had told his mom. "Keeps structure. Keeps morale."
So every morning, Nathan dragged himself to class with a backpack, listening to lectures that felt pointless. History, math, reading—it was like the world hadn't ended. But the teachers were volunteers, the lessons rushed, and everyone knew deep down that this wasn't real school.
It was just something to keep the kids busy.To keep them feeling safe.
When he wasn't in class, Nathan texted Emma. Constantly.She was in another camp a few hours north. Their conversations were sometimes light, sometimes serious—memes one minute, questions about the world the next.
Emma: "Do u think they'll open the camps eventually?"
Nathaniel: "Yeah… probably. Once things calm down."
Emma: "Yeah. Right."
But not everyone stayed in touch.Diego stopped replying a few days in. At first Nathan figured he was just busy, or had bad signal. But then Matt admitted that some of their other friends weren't answering either.
Matt: "I tried Diego. Nothing. It's like they just… disappeared."
Nathaniel: (trying to sound casual) "Maybe they got moved to different camps."
Matt: "Yeah. Or worse."
Nathan didn't have a response for that.
Meanwhile, everyone in camp was assigned roles. It started as volunteers, but after a few days it became "expected."
Mothers formed a Camp Mothers' Council, helping distribute food, run laundry stations, and plan activities for the younger kids. Some of the fathers joined night patrol groups to support the soldiers—walking the perimeter, shining flashlights through the trees, reporting any movement.
The soldiers seemed to like the help. But Nathan noticed something else, something nobody talked about out loud.
Every morning, a convoy of military vehicles rolled out of camp, heading down the forest road toward the cities. Soldiers sat in the back, rifles in hand, faces hard and quiet.
And every afternoon, when the trucks came back… there were fewer soldiers than before.
At first, it wasn't obvious. One truck missing. A couple fewer faces.But after nearly a week, even Nathan's dad noticed.
Dad: (quietly at dinner one night) "There were five trucks on Monday. Three today."
Aaron: "And no one's saying where they're going."
Mom: (trying to sound hopeful) "Maybe they're being reassigned."
Aaron: "Or not coming back."
The camp routine went on like nothing was wrong. Classes. Meals. Curfews.But beneath it all, there was a subtle shift. A quiet tension starting to build.
Nathan felt it whenever he looked at the soldiers during lunch—how their eyes seemed more tired, how their uniforms came back dirtier, how some of them just… weren't there anymore.
Something was happening out there.Something the camp wasn't being told.
It started with a limp.
Nathan and Matt were walking back from evening roll call when the convoy returned. The military trucks rumbled past the cabins, engines growling low, headlights slicing through the foggy dusk.
Nathan wasn't paying much attention—convoys came and went almost every day now—but then Matt elbowed him sharply.
Matt: (whispering) "Look. Third truck."
Nathan turned his head just in time to see a soldier being helped down from the back of the vehicle. His left leg was wrapped hastily in blood-stained bandages. He limped heavily, leaning on two others for support as they guided him toward the medical cabin. His face was pale, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead.
Nathan felt his stomach tighten.They weren't supposed to see stuff like that.
Matt: (low) "They got hit. You saw that, right?"Nathaniel: (nodding) "Yeah… something happened out there."
They didn't talk about it during dinner. But later that night, long after curfew, they slipped out of their cabins like kids sneaking into a movie theater.
The camp was quiet under the floodlights.The gravel paths crunched beneath their shoes as they crouched low, moving between cabins like shadows.
Matt: (whispering) "The limping guy went toward the military cabins. If something's going on, they'll talk about it there."Nathaniel: "You sure about this?"Matt: (grinning nervously) "Nope. Let's go."
They crept up to one of the military cabins near the fence line — an old wooden structure with a single light on inside. Through the cracked window, Nathan could see silhouettes moving.
They crouched under the window, holding their breath.Inside, voices drifted through the glass.
Soldier #1: "—whole city's gone, man. We barely made it out."Soldier #2: "They swarmed us. Not just one wave—continuous. Like they don't get tired. Half our unit's gone."Soldier #3: "Command didn't even give us backup. Said hold the line, like it mattered. We're losing ground every damn day."Soldier #1: "Those things aren't human. You can't reason with them, can't scare them. You shoot and they keep coming. Like animals."Soldier #2: "Worse. Animals stop eventually."
Nathan's blood ran cold. He looked at Matt, whose face was frozen in shock.
Soldier #3: "They're saying Charlotte fell last night. Raleigh too. Everything's breaking down. There's no going back."
Charlotte. Raleigh.That was close. Too close.
Suddenly—
Guard: "HEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!"
A floodlight snapped on, blinding them.Matt and Nathan jumped to their feet as a camp guard stormed toward them, flashlight swinging.
Guard: "Curfew means CURFEW! You think this is a game?!"
Before they could react, the door of the military cabin burst open. Three soldiers came out, the same ones they'd just been eavesdropping on.
Nathan's heart hammered. If they knew what the boys had heard…
Matt spoke first, quick and desperate:
Matt: "We already know."
The soldiers froze.
Matt: "You didn't tell anyone. But we heard you. The cities—Charlotte, Raleigh—they're gone, aren't they?"
One of the soldiers cursed under his breath. Another looked at the guard, clearly annoyed.
Soldier #2: (bitterly) "Well, there goes the secret."Soldier #1: (grimly) "They were gonna find out sooner or later."
Nathan swallowed hard.
Nathaniel: "So that's it? There's no going back?"
The oldest of the soldiers stepped forward. His uniform was stained, his eyes sunken from exhaustion. He looked at them not like kids—but like fellow survivors.
Soldier #1: "No, kid. There's not."
Soldier #1: "The cities are gone. And what's out there… we can't stop it. We're barely holding the line."
The guard looked nervous now, glancing at the soldiers like he wished he hadn't caught anyone tonight.
Guard: (low) "Get back to your cabins. Now."
Matt and Nathan didn't argue. They ran through the dimly lit paths, adrenaline surging through their veins.
When they finally reached their cabin, they stopped outside, gasping for air. Matt was pale, his hands shaking slightly.
Matt: (whispering) "Dude… we're screwed."
Nathaniel: (quietly, staring into the dark) "Yeah. We are."
Nathan had stopped going to class.
At first it was just one day. Then another.Soon, he wasn't even pretending anymore.
The teachers complained to the soldiers, the soldiers talked to his parents, and his mom scolded him half-heartedly over dinner. But Nathan didn't care. What was the point? Sitting in a cabin pretending algebra mattered while cities burned outside the fences?
Aaron tried once to talk sense into him. But when Nathan told him exactly what he and Matt had overheard that night — the soldiers talking about the fall of Charlotte, Raleigh, and the unstoppable infected — Aaron just sighed and said,
Aaron: "...Yeah. I get it."
And he never brought it up again.
One afternoon, during class time, Nathan was alone in the camp's open yard, sitting cross-legged on top of a picnic table. The air smelled like pine and damp dirt after the morning rain. Kids were in school; patrols were thin. The place felt emptier than usual.
He wasn't doing anything. Just… sitting. Watching the wind stir the leaves.
Footsteps crunched behind him.
Derek: "You hiding from the alphabet again, kid?"
Nathan turned his head. Derek was walking toward him, sleeves rolled up, his uniform dusty. He wasn't just any soldier — he was the soldier who'd knocked on their door days ago and brought them here. Since then, Derek had been stationed near their sector, sometimes chatting with the parents, sometimes just nodding as he passed. He wasn't exactly a friend… but he wasn't just another uniform either.
Nathan shrugged.
Nathaniel: "Not hiding. Just don't see the point."
Derek stopped at the base of the table, looking up at him.
Derek: "The point of school?"Nathaniel: "Yeah. The world's done. Cities are gone. Everything's screwed. What's the point of pretending like we're going back to normal?"
Derek crossed his arms, brow furrowing slightly.
Derek: "It's not about pretending. It's about staying sharp. Having routine. Keeping people focused."Nathaniel: "Focused on what? Math problems? None of that's gonna help when those things break through the fence."
That shut Derek up for a second. He exhaled through his nose, half a laugh, half frustration.
Derek: "You're a stubborn little shit, you know that?"
Nathan smirked.
Nathaniel: "You're not the first to say that."
Derek tilted his head, studying him for a moment. Then his expression shifted.Something more serious.
Derek: "Alright. You want to learn something actually useful?"
Nathan blinked.
Nathaniel: "...What?"
Derek: "Get up. Follow me."
Nathan hesitated but slid down from the table. He followed Derek down the path toward the gate.
When they reached the perimeter, a guard at the gate stepped forward immediately.
Gate Guard: "You can't take a civilian outside, Derek. You know the rules."
Derek: (calmly, flashing his ID) "I outrank you, Corporal. Step aside."
The guard hesitated, clearly not happy about it, but eventually moved aside. Derek led Nathan through the gates and into the woods.
They walked for a few minutes along a dirt path, the sounds of the camp fading behind them until it was just the wind through the trees and the crunch of twigs under their boots.
Derek asked him casual questions at first — about his brother, about life before the outbreak — just small talk to fill the silence. Nathan answered vaguely, still not sure what was going on.
Finally, they stopped in a small clearing. Derek reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol.
He held it out toward Nathan.
Nathan stared at it.
Nathaniel: "...You're kidding."
Derek: "Nope." (placing it firmly in his hands) "Today, you learn how to shoot."
The weight of the gun surprised him. Cold metal. Heavy in a way that made his stomach tighten. He looked up at Derek, unsure if he was serious.
Derek: "School's pointless, right? Fine. Let's give you an education that might actually keep you alive."
Nathan looked down at the pistol again. He wasn't sure whether to feel excited, scared, or both. Maybe for the first time since arriving at Redwater, he felt like something real was happening.
When Nathan and Derek finally returned to camp that afternoon, Nathan looked different.
For the first time in weeks, he wasn't wearing that distant, cynical expression. His hoodie was smudged with dirt, his hair a mess, but there was a spark in his eyes—like someone had flipped a switch back on.
His mom spotted him as soon as they came through the path.
Mom: (relieved) "Nathan! There you are, I was starting to—"
She stopped mid-sentence when she saw his face.
Nathaniel: (grinning faintly) "Relax, Mom. I'm fine."
She stepped forward, brushing a leaf off his shoulder like she used to when he came home from basketball practice.
Mom: "Where did you even go?"
Nathaniel: "Out. With Derek. We talked."
Derek gave her a reassuring nod from behind him. She clearly trusted the soldier more than Nathan's vague answers, so she let it go—though not without a suspicious look.
As Nathan walked into the cabin, he turned back over his shoulder with an almost casual confidence.
Nathaniel: "Oh. And… I'm going back to school."
His mom blinked.
Mom: "Wait—really?"
Nathan just nodded and disappeared inside, leaving her standing in the doorway with a confused smile.
The truth was, he and Derek had made a deal:For every day Nathan attended camp school, Derek would teach him something actually useful.
And Nathan held up his end.
The weeks rolled by, marked by morning announcements, cafeteria dinners, and the occasional convoy rumbling out through the gates. But for Nathan, each day had a purpose now.
Every afternoon, after school, he would meet Derek near the fence line. They'd sneak out into the woods—always under the soldier's authority—and train.
Shooting came first.Nathan wasn't great at the beginning. His aim was shaky, his stance wrong. But Derek was patient, breaking it down piece by piece. Breathing. Grip. Trigger control.
Soon, Nathan could hit targets at mid-range consistently.Then farther.Then moving targets.
Derek even started joking that Nathan was turning into his "little sniper."
Knife work came next.Derek showed him how to hold it properly, how to slash versus stab, how to use momentum to disarm someone. Nathan's hands blistered at first, but he pushed through it. He learned fast.
Then came combat and defense — not the Hollywood kind, but real, practical techniques.How to escape holds. How to break a choke. How to use someone's weight against them.Every lesson left him exhausted, sweaty, and bruised — but he loved it.
Nathan could feel himself changing.The kid who once slacked off in class, who scrolled through memes at night to ignore reality, was fading.In his place, someone sharper, stronger, and more alert was emerging.
Meanwhile, the outside world was going silent.
Social media, which had once been flooded with panic, conspiracy theories, and shaky livestreams, grew quieter each day. Posts came less frequently. Accounts went dark.News apps stopped updating.Hashtags trended for hours, then disappeared altogether.
Nathan found himself using his phone only to talk to Emma — their messages a nightly ritual — or to play a few offline games before bed, just to clear his head.
Emma: "I miss you."
Nathaniel: "Yeah… me too."
Emma: "It's weird. The news is dead. Feels like the world just… unplugged."
Nathaniel: "Yeah. It's like we're the last ones online."
By the time four weeks had passed at Redwater, Nathan wasn't the same boy who had arrived clutching a suitcase and looking up at fighter jets with fear in his eyes.
He could hit a bottle cap from 30 meters away.He could handle a knife like he'd been doing it for years.And in a fight… he could hold his own.
And while the camp routine stayed the same on the surface, Nathan could feel it — something was building, like static before a storm.
It happened in the middle of the afternoon.No warning. No announcement. Just… silence.
Nathan stood on the roof of the cabin, holding his phone up to the sky like it might catch a signal if he tilted it just right. The bars had been flickering in and out all day, but now they were gone for good. Just a dead icon and the mocking words: No Service.
Down below, Matt paced in the yard, his face illuminated by his own screen.
Matt: "Anything?"
Nathaniel: (tight voice) "Nothing."
Nathan's chest tightened. He lowered the phone slowly, staring at the dark screen. Emma. She was the only reason he checked that thing every night. Their messages were his anchor. His proof she was still okay.
And now… nothing.
Around the camp, the panic began to ripple. Some people ran around asking neighbors to check their phones. Others crowded near the administration building demanding answers. A woman broke down screaming. A man hurled his phone against the ground, shattering it.
Nathan climbed down from the roof, his hands shaking. The silence of the digital world was louder than any siren.
That same night, after curfew, a military convoy roared back into camp. It was later than usual. The trucks looked damaged, splattered with mud and dark streaks Nathan didn't want to identify.
From their cabin window, Nathan watched as floodlights snapped on, illuminating the returning soldiers. Civilians stayed inside, peeking from behind curtains.
Soldiers rushed to help their comrades out of the vehicles.Nathan saw faces streaked with sweat and blood, uniforms torn, bandages soaked through.
Soldier 1: "Where's the medic?! We've got three down!"
Soldier 2: "We lost half the unit out there—half!"
Soldier 3: "Every man we lose is another one of them tomorrow…"
The last line made Nathan's stomach drop.He didn't need context. He knew.
The soldiers were terrified. Not disciplined, not cold and distant. Terrified.
Later, when the chaos at the gate died down, one of the soldiers slipped quietly into his assigned cabin near the barracks.
He shut the door behind him, hands shaking. He leaned against the wall for a second, breathing heavily, then looked down. His hands were slick with dried blood—some his, some not.
He stumbled toward a sink, washing them frantically, water running red. His rifle clattered against the wall.
Then, with trembling fingers, he peeled back his pant leg.The bite mark on his calf was unmistakable.The skin around it was swollen, the edges torn.
He stared at it for a long time, cold sweat dripping down his temples. Then he grabbed his first-aid kit and dumped it open on the counter. He soaked gauze in alcohol and pressed it against the wound, biting his fist to keep from screaming.
Tears welled in his eyes. He knew.
He wrapped it tight, slapped a bandage on top, and whispered to himself:
"It's fine. I'll be fine. It's nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
Doom had just walked through the front gate....