4 Fire and Ashley

Kross moved without resting, but he felt it was an unending path and almost gave up. While walking, he realized now that this was a human-made tunnel. He could see signs of strikes of pickaxes.

'How long have they been in this camp to dig out this long tunnel?'

As he continued, he saw a light beyond. A hopeful smile showed on his face. When he went nearer, his eyes caught sight of the back of a man just near a one-man entrance. The man had long white hair and broad shoulders. A pistol was on his waist and a machete on the other side. Kross believed this man was the owner of the machete he held. Before he could step in, a loud male voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Stop. Who's there?"

Kross breathed deep. "My name is Kross. Marcus brought me to the camp today. I'm with the women and children. A monster invaded the camp and Marcus told us to come here."

The white-haired guy turned around and saw Kross. His sight went past behind him. "Where are the others?"

"They rested somewhere. I walked ahead to look for water and the exit. Please help us."

The old man turned to the other person Kross couldn't see and nodded.

"Lead," the old man said.

Kross spun and walked straight. He only heard footsteps behind him. His tired feet went faster for the kids. He didn't know how many men followed but understood there were over two. Bouncing water came to his ears too and comforted him.

After an hour of running, Kross heard wailings and made him panic. He disregarded his aches and ran. The men also heard and overtook him, bumping him to the side. There he realized there were five men behind him with water jugs each. They reached the others in no time. Relief filled their faces when they saw the weak ones were fine. The kids only cried thinking Kross would never come back and no one would save them.

The old man turned and saw Kross limping toward them. It seemed his adrenaline stopped pumping when he saw they were safe and sat on the dusty ground to rest too. His breathing was fast with a face and shirt drenching with sweat. He smiled and went to him with a canteen of water. Kross took it and emptied it in one gulp.

"Thank you." That was the only sentence the elderly said. Kross nodded in silence.

----- o -----

Ten miles away from the camp, a convoy of ten military trucks and buses loaded with armed men stirred the muddy road toward where Kross's camp was. Ahead of them was an armored truck with a long-range machine gun on the vehicle top. They moved 120 miles per hour.

Driving the armored truck was a dark-brown-haired man with dark sunglasses on. He was silent in the entire journey, focused on where they headed. Beside him was a girl holding a two-way radio near her mouth. She pushed a button on the radio while saying, "Oblivious calling Turkey's farm. Oblivious calling Turkey's farm. Please respond"

She did this several times until she placed the radio on his lap and sighed. "Nothing from that distress signal."

"Got it. Signal outside to move full speed," said the driver.

The girl put a fist outside the window and plunged it forward. From then on, their speed doubled. Less than half an hour later, a junkyard appeared right ahead of them.

----- o -----

The trucks slowly went in the winding road surrounded by junks. Minutes after, they saw the monster with the body split in two, lying in a pool of green fluid in front of an armored car that was on fire. Dead men with their weapons sprawled around the scene. A fence barricade laid on the ground.

The convoy stopped near the scene. The driver and the girl stepped down. The man raised his speed pistol with a long line of chained bullets attached to it, which rounded his waist. And the girl held a crossbow with a small quiver on her side filled with short arrows. A thin meter-sword was on her waist. The people on the trucks followed suit. They carefully strolled in a U-shape formation while watching their surrounding areas with weapons up ready to shoot. All of them walked in order with the man and the girl in the mid-front.

"So silent," the girl whispered.

The man with sunglasses nodded. He moved nearer the armored car on fire and saw the driver's door was ajar. Peeping in, he saw no one inside but a two-way radio with a blinking red light. He took it and tried using it.

"Mayday, mayday." His voice echoed to the girl's radio in her jacket's breast pocket.

"The man who sent the distress signal might be among the dead," the girl said.

"Maybe," replied the man. "Let's go in."

They all walked in the same manner but found the place deserted.

"No survivors?" said a blond-haired young man with a bazooka on his shoulder standing behind them.

"Scan the whole place for survivors, but be careful. Report back anything suspicious." The girl commanded and ran to the house. Everyone searched in silence. They included the broken trains and the lying empty water tanks.

"Fire, over here." The girl shouted from the door.

The man in sunglasses stepped in and saw the trapdoor. Unexpectedly, the combined wooden planks moved up, and both raised their weapons at it. A redhead emerged with a machete in hand but stupefied to see high-powered weapons aimed at him compared to his machete. He'd be dead if he dared to fight at this range, he thought. And his tensed arms sagged when the armed two put their weapons down.

"Are there more survivors in there?" asked Fire.

"Yes, women and children. Did you meet Marcus outside?" Kross asked without thinking.

Silence blanketed the room.

"He's a big-built man with brown hair." His eyes went to Fire. "He is the same height as you."

The two didn't reply, or couldn't say a word, for it might be painful news for Kross. They only looked at each other.

Kross sighed, reading the unresponsive two. He opened his mouth to ask if there were still people alive outside but shut his lips in an instant when he saw the kids slowly climbing up the stairs brought up by the men. He stepped out from the way and pulled the kids up one by one until the women followed. The last to go out were the other four and the old man.

"Is Uncle Marcus alive?" the twelve-year-old girl asked Kross again.

"Where is my father?" a little boy followed.

More questions from the girls and children, but no one could give them the answer. They became restless and were about to run out, but Kross hastily stood at the door.

"No one goes out unless the coast is clear. Wait for my signal." He blurted without realizing what he did was useless.

The children stood in their tracks though and stared at Kross. The latter didn't know what to say. He didn't even understand why he moved and stopped them. This was reality, so why protect them from seeing the truth? For sure, these two armed unknown people had the place clean from danger but… he tried to think about what to do and say but his mouth remained shut. Thankfully, the old man saved him.

"Children, keep quiet. Stay where you are." He faced Fire and the girl. "Hi, I'm Jesse but people call me Turkey and my brother owns this place. He is dead now. How did you get here?"

"Hi, I'm Fire and this is Ashley. We received a distress call from a radio but couldn't find the person who sent it."

"A radio? I didn't know we had one. Where did you find it? By the way, these are…," He pointed a finger to the other four men. "This is Txadow, Beet, Harold, and Simon."

"I'm Kross." He extended a hand. Fire and the girl shook it, including the other hands.

"I found this in the armored car outside." Fire gave the radio to Turkey.

Turkey took it and looked at the other men in wonder, but Kross gave the answer. "I think Marcus owned it. He was the one who rammed the armored car into the monster outside. Where is he?"

"No idea. See for yourself," Ashley replied, jerking her head to the door.

Kross ran out toward the burning armored car and saw an empty seat with a bloody windshield at the front. He searched each dead person on the ground but didn't see Marcus. This gave him hope he was alive. He scurried inside the camp for any sign of him, but his aching feet couldn't take a step more. He went to the tent where he previously slept to rest and get his belongings, but something caught his eye — a jacket left on his hammock. There was a small piece of paper in the pocket. He yanked it, unfold, and read the message. "I called for help. Go to the South. Keep living. Be wary of moles." A big letter M was under it.

"From Marcus?" He smiled to know he was alive but frowned thereafter as he remembered the note. His brows knitted and thought of showing Turkey or Celia, but along the way, something itched in his mind from telling them.

Marcus could have left the note where Turkey or the others could see, but he left it to him instead. Something was not right. Moles? He always heard his father, a former police officer, used the term for spies. But… who and who sent the mole?

He pondered for a while and thought it couldn't be for him. Marcus might have left it in the wrong place or for the true owner of the hammock. They hardly know each other. It was obvious they just met for a few hours and had a brief chat. And that's all. He checked Celia's and the other girls' hammocks, but nothing there. Then a heavier reason came to him…

'Did Marcus really intend to leave it to me because he doesn't trust the people here? But why? What is going on here?'

He placed the note in his pocket and walked back to the house with uncertainty about what to do with it.