BILL
Bill.
A voice rang out across the small settlement, sharp with panic.
"Where is she? Why hasn't she come back?"
Bill lifted his head slowly, the familiar weight of worry settling deeper on his shoulders. He already knew who the voice belonged to.
Mark. Always quick to worry — but today, Bill couldn't blame him.
Bill was a father. His daughter, Dina, had left earlier that morning to scavenge for supplies — food mostly. She was capable. Stronger than anyone gave her credit for. But even so, this world wasn't fair. And it wasn't forgiving.
"Bill," Mark said again, his voice closer now, raw with frustration. "Do you know where she is?"
Bill narrowed his eyes at him, anger flaring for just a second.
"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" he snapped.
Mark ran a hand through his hair, pacing in the dust.
"She's never been away this long. It's almost night. You know you can't travel at night, Bill. Those rottens — they're worse after dark. Smarter. Meaner."
The thought made Bill clench his fists.
He wanted to shout back, to tell Mark to shut the hell up, to not even say it. But instead, he exhaled heavily.
"I don't know where she is," Bill said, his voice quieter now. "But I trust my daughter. She's stronger than any of us. She'll come back."
Mark hesitated, his mouth opening to argue, but nothing came out. He knew Bill wasn't wrong. Dina was one of their best — maybe the best after everything they'd survived together.
For a moment, the two men just stood there, the weight of the coming night pressing down on them.
It wasn't just Dina and Matthew, Mark's son, who took the supply runs. Sometimes a few others went too, but mostly it was them. They were fast, quiet, careful.
Bill and Mark were the unofficial leaders here. The people listened to them because they had no one else to turn to. They kept the settlement alive when everything else around them had crumbled.
Before the betrayal, the settlement had grown to nearly fifty people.
Fifty lives. Fifty hopes clinging to this last scrap of safety.
But it hadn't lasted.
"Forget about her," Bill muttered, though the words hurt more than he could admit. "She's probably okay."
Mark crossed his arms, staring off toward the woods where Dina had vanished hours ago.
"What did Matthew say about those marauders?"
"They're in that area," Mark said grimly. "Hunting. Calling it 'their territory' like they fucking own it."
Bill's jaw tightened.
The marauders were worse than the rottens some days. At least with the undead, you knew what you were facing. People... people were unpredictable.
Still, Mark pressed on.
"I think we should go look for Dina."
"One more night," Bill answered, hard. "If she's not back by morning, we'll send Matthew. Or Maya."
Mark didn't like it — Bill could see it in his face — but finally he nodded.
"Fine," Mark muttered.
The sun was already bleeding into the horizon, staining the sky with bruised purples and reds. Night was almost here. The worst time to be outside.
Bill watched the dark creep across the land and felt a twisting fear in his gut.
"I hope Dina's okay," he thought, the words almost a prayer, almost a lie.
He shook the feeling off and made his rounds through the camp, checking on the others.
They had built this place up from nothing — scraps, broken trailers, makeshift walls. A small fortress against the chaos outside.
It had felt like hope once. Real hope.
But all of that was before John.
Bill's fists curled at the memory — John, trusted, familiar, leading the marauders right to their gates, opening their home to slaughter.
It had been a massacre.
The fires, the screaming, the blood on the dirt.
From fifty people... down to twenty-nine.
Twenty-nine survivors huddled behind broken walls, nursing wounds that would never fully heal.
Thank god for Mark, Matthew, Maya, Dina, and the others who hadn't hesitated. They fought like hell, and somehow, they lived through it.
But it had cost them everything.
Fuck that motherfucker.
I will kill you, John. I swear it.
Bill thought, rage simmering deep inside him like a storm waiting to break.
He had managed to convince the survivors they were safe now. That no more death would come.
But he knew better.
The marauders would come again. Stronger. Smarter.
And when they did, Bill would not be caught off guard.
He was already gathering supplies, already marking the maps, already planning the next move.
He wasn't going to wait for death to come knocking again.
They were going to leave.
One way or another.