Crackling…
The warmth of the fire spread slowly through the camp, offering comfort against the bitter chill. Everyone huddled close, clutching cups of steaming hot soup, savoring the heat.
"This kind of weather doesn't happen often," Amy said, sitting beside her sister Andrea, both wrapped in a thick blanket. They held their soup carefully, steam rising into the night. "I've felt colder than this before—way below freezing. That was brutal."
The heavy rain had washed away more than just the mud—it had stripped the summer heat straight from the air. What had once felt like walking through a furnace now felt more like the edge of winter.
"I've been looking at the map," Rick said, seated beside Jason with a worn map spread across his lap. He marked it with a pen as he spoke. "We're here. About ten kilometers in this direction, there's a farm. We could go around it, but—"
"No, no, absolutely not."
Jason waved his hand firmly, cutting him off. "We're going to that farm. It might have resources—seeds, tools, maybe even livestock. We can't keep relying on scavenging. Eventually, we'll have to grow our own food. Seeds are going to be critical."
He was serious—but there was something he wasn't saying out loud.
The farm… that's where Maggie lives.Jason had always liked that character. Beautiful face, great figure—just his type.
Of course, outwardly, he kept things practical and responsible. Rick took his point seriously. Jason's reasoning made sense—scavenged supplies were non-renewable. If they wanted long-term survival, agriculture was the answer.
If Rick had known what Jason was really thinking, he might have had a full-on breakdown. Luckily, he'd never find out.
Since the camp was set up in the wild, security was thin. They decided to rotate guards every hour—five people on watch at a time, no exceptions, male or female.
Later that night, with the cold still biting hard, Jason threw on a coat, lit a cigarette, and slipped off to the edge of camp for a bathroom break.
Crash.
The moment he unzipped, the ground beneath him gave way—and a decayed hand shot out of the pit.
"What the—?!" Jason yelped, stumbling backward and accidentally peeing on his own boots.
Roar...
It turned out there was a pit in the ground—likely made from erosion or old construction—and a zombie had fallen into it at some point. After the storm, leaves and branches had covered the hole, camouflaging it perfectly. Jason hadn't seen a thing.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Cursing, he zipped up and yanked out his knife. With a swift motion, he sliced the undead arm clean off.
Then he looked down at his shoe, soaked in more than just rain. "…Great. First time I've peed on myself since I was a kid."
Aside from that lovely incident, the night passed without further chaos.
By morning, the temperature finally began to rise, though it was still chilly enough that everyone stayed close to the fire, warming their hands, sipping soup, and chewing on jerky.
Jason stood up and stretched.
"Today's destination is a farm—only about ten clicks out. Should be there in twenty minutes. And who knows? Maybe someone's still living there."
He didn't say it, but inside, he was already buzzing with excitement.
Maybe Maggie's already waiting.