Inside the Abandoned House.
Arman snatched the letter from Brian's hand, eager to read it. He lowered his head and began to read:
"Dad,
I don't know if you'll ever see this letter. Everything outside is chaos—gunshots and explosions are constant. The news is reporting that infected people are rioting in the city. It's terrifying.
But I'm glad I don't live downtown. I've decided to take Angelina to Dallas to find her father. If you see this, come to Dallas as soon as you can. I hope to see you again.
Your daughter, June."
Arman exhaled deeply, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders now that he knew where his daughter had gone. He carefully folded the letter and put it in his backpack. Turning to the two children, he said, "Austin's fallen. When I came here, the infected on the bridge were all heading this way. It won't be safe here for long. I'm heading to Dallas. Do you want to come with me?"
Brian was silent for a moment, glancing at Sarah, who was also quiet. After a pause, he shook his head. "Sorry, but we haven't found Sarah's dad and uncle yet. We need to keep looking for them."
"Ah," Arman sighed, clearly expecting this answer. He didn't say much more, just took out a pen and wrote an address on a piece of paper, handing it to Brian. "This is where I'm going. If... and I mean if... You don't find them, you can come here."
With that, Arman didn't stick around. He picked up his shotgun, ruffled Sarah's hair one more time, said goodbye, and left the room. Brian stood there, staring at the paper in his hand, and whispered, "Thank you."
Brian's Plan.
After Arman left, Brian had his plans for the day. Sarah's leg was still healing, so they couldn't move around too much. He took out two cans of food from his backpack and started eating breakfast. As he ate, he thought of a way to get Joel and Tommy to find them.
There was a dense forest near the house. Brian gathered a bunch of dry wood, piled it up, and lit it with a lighter. The fire roared, sending thick smoke into the air. From a distance, it would be hard to miss.
Satisfied with his work, Brian didn't stop there. He searched the house for any useful supplies, putting everything he found on the living room table. He carried Sarah downstairs and gave her paper and a pen to keep track of everything.
Then he went back to the shed. He remembered seeing a toolbox and some wooden planks when he found the kerosene lamp last night. He figured it was best to barricade the windows and reinforce the house, just in case the infected got closer.
The Highway Bridge.
The situation on the highway bridge last night had been brutal. The bridge was littered with hundreds of dead bodies, the blood turning the entire structure red and filling the air with a heavy stench. The quarantine checkpoint was deserted; the military had retreated under the overwhelming assault of the infected.
On a nearby hill, Joel used binoculars to scan the area. He saw hundreds of infected moving along the bridge, seemingly heading toward the next city. But he wasn't paying much attention to that. He kept scanning the area around the bridge, feeling anxious and exhausted.
After escaping the infected last night, Joel and Tommy had headed toward the bridge. But as they got closer, they heard gunfire and explosions. They saw the infected attacking the checkpoint. They figured Brian would have done the same—find a place to hide nearby instead of getting closer.
So they searched around the checkpoint, looking for any sign of the kids. The explosions kept drawing more infected, and they almost got caught a few times. Once the military left the checkpoint, they continued their search. It had been hours.
"Damn it, where did you guys go?" Joel muttered.
Just then, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Tommy, who was carrying an unconscious man on his shoulder.
"Aren't you supposed to be searching over there? Who's this?" Joel asked.
"Wait," Tommy said, putting the man down and tying his hands behind his back with a rope. He took out a badge and showed it to Joel. "I found him sneaking out of the checkpoint. He's a clerk, probably someone who didn't make it out in time. We've been looking for hours. Maybe these guys found Brian and Sarah."
Joel nodded. He took a swig from his water bottle and splashed it on the man's face.
The man woke up with a start, looking at the two strangers and realizing his hands were tied. "Who... who are you? Why did you grab me?"
Joel pulled out his gun, squatted down, and looked the man straight in the eye. "Last night, did you see two kids—a boy and a girl, both 13, the girl with an injured leg? Answer me honestly, or I'll put a bullet in you."
The man's eyes were filled with fear. He didn't even hear the whole question; he just started begging. "I... I don't know anything. I'm just a recorder. Please..."
Before he could say more, Joel stood up and stomped on his knee. Ever since the soldier had shot at them last night, Joel had no patience for these people. He squatted back down, showing the man a photo of him and Sarah. "Last time I'm asking. Have you seen this girl?"
The man was in pain now, but he shook his head. "I... I haven't. I was recording data all night. I don't know anything."
But then he seemed to remember something. "But... before the infected attacked us last night, we did rescue dozens of survivors near the bridge. We sent them to the quarantine camp in Houston, like we were supposed to. Your people might be there."
"Lies!" Joel grabbed the man's collar, furious. "If you were rescuing survivors, why did you shoot at us last night?"
"What... what?" The man looked shocked. "No way. Our orders were to rescue uninfected survivors and take them to the camp."
Joel and Tommy exchanged glances. They had thought the military's orders were to eliminate everyone. But now it seemed like something else was going on. They had stumbled onto a possible conspiracy.
The man realized the same thing. He struggled and said, "You have to let me go. You need to report this. More innocent people will die if you don't."
"Shut up," Joel said, feeling overwhelmed. He pulled Tommy aside. "What do we do with him?"
"Let him go," Tommy replied. He believed the man was telling the truth.
"Joel, this isn't my problem. My priority is finding Sarah. Let this guy deal with it," Tommy said.
Joel thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He turned back to the man, threw a dagger at his feet, and said, "I'm not killing you. Find your way out."
They left the man there and headed toward the town. It was over 100 miles to Houston, and they needed to find a car.
Ten minutes after they left, a plume of black smoke rose from the forest near where they had been standing.