Lost and Found
"They're using Colin as a test subject," she began without preamble, her voice low but steady. "The scientists at Silverhurst University are running every possible test on him to learn about the infection."
Sam's eyes flickered with a mix of relief and dread. "So, is there hope for a cure?"
"That's what they're aiming for," Paisley replied. "But it's risky. They can't guarantee his safety."
Liam leaned against the wall, a faint frown etching lines on his forehead. "What about Elsie? Is she...?"
"She's part of the research team now," Paisley interrupted, a hint of pride mixed with worry glinting in her eyes. "She insisted on staying with Colin, making sure they're doing everything possible while trying to find a cure."
Sam let out a heavy breath, running his fingers through his hair. The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of Paisley's words settling over them. The air felt thick, laden with unspoken fears and a cascade of what-ifs.
"We can't just sit around," Liam finally said, pushing himself up and peering out at the moon. "We need to help the scientists. Figure out what's really happening."
Paisley nodded. "Captain Barland's crew is heading out for supplies in the morning. We can join them, scout ahead."
Sam looked from Liam to Paisley, swallowing the lump in his throat. "If there's even a chance we can help Colin, we have to take it."
Liam nodded, his jaw tightening. "We'll do more than just help. We'll find answers."
Morning arrived with the first hints of dawn illuminating the camp. The cool air carried the scent of damp earth and the sound of birds chirping their morning songs.
Liam, Sam, and Paisley stood by a row of rusted vehicles, their breath visible in the cold. Captain Barland's crew, armed and vigilant, prepared for the supply run. The group leader, a weedy man named Angus, approached them, his eyes squinting under the brim of his hat.
"You three sure about coming?" he asked, scanning their faces with a critical eye. "It's not a stroll in the park out there."
Liam stepped forward. "We want to do more than survive. We need to understand this infection."
Angus's gaze softened slightly. "Alright, but stay close. And listen to orders."
As they climbed aboard a battered truck, the camp's barriers slid out of view, replaced by the landscape of the now feral city.
Sam sat beside Liam, eyes scanning the various buildings. "Do you think Colin will make it?"
Liam's hand found Sam's, squeezing briefly before letting go. "We've seen him fight before. He's tough. We just have to make sure we do everything we can to help find a cure."
The truck rumbled to a stop in front of what used to be a pharmacy, its faded sign swaying in the breeze. Angus gestured for silence and motioned for his team to spread out. They moved with practiced precision, weapons ready.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and the acrid smell of decay. Shelves lay overturned, and the pharmacist counter was a tangle of broken glass and scattered bottles. Liam picked his way through the remains, consciousness heightened by the faintest sound.
Paisley knelt to examine a pile of medical books, flipping through pages with quick, deft movements. "Anything in here could be useful," she muttered, her voice barely audible.
A shuffling noise made them all freeze. Liam held up a hand, signaling for quiet. The noise grew closer, the sound of heavy breathing and dragging footsteps.
"Get ready," Angus whispered, positioning himself.
An infected stumbled into view, its eyes glassy and vacant, skin pallid and mottled. Angus moved swiftly, dispatching the creature with practiced ease.
Another sound emerged—the rasping breath of more infected gathering. Sam's grip tightened around his pocket knife. Angus and the other adults moved quickly, with swift and precise strikes that efficiently took down the infected.
"We'll cover the doors," Angus instructed, his voice cutting through the tension. "Keep your eyes open and stay close."
The group resumed their search for supplies. The pharmacy, once a place of order and healing, now stood as a fractured tomb, its remnants scattered and broken. Paisley continued rifling through the medical books while Liam and Sam focused on gathering antiseptics, bandages, and any medications that looked intact.
As the minutes dragged on, the team's efficiency became evident. The adults coordinated with practiced gestures, directing the younger members of the group with silent authority. Despite the stark environment, there was an unspoken unity that formed among them, a silent agreement to protect and assist.
Paisley broke the silence, her soft voice barely more than a whisper, "Do you think… do you think the university can really find a cure?"
Liam glanced at her, his eyes steady. "They have to. There's too much at stake."
A sudden crash drew everyone's attention to the back of the pharmacy. Angus's team moved quickly and determinedly, settling into a defensive stance. Moments later, two more infected stumbled through the wreckage.
"Stay back," Angus ordered. He and two others took down the infected with swift precision.
Once the immediate threat was neutralized, the team resumed their scavenging. Sam turned over a shelf, revealing a stash of toothbrushes. "Jackpot," he muttered, an involuntary smile breaking through his tense demeanor.
"Take it all," Angus directed. "We need to make this trip count."
Liam's attention wandered to a door at the back of the pharmacy. Curiosity tugged at him, and he edged closer. Pushing the door open, he found a small storeroom, mostly undisturbed.
"Guys, over here," Liam called out quietly. Sam and Paisley joined him, eyes widening at the sight of untouched supplies—boxes of medical kits, gloves, masks, and syringes.
"Perfect," Sam said, beginning to pack supplies into his backpack. "This could make a huge difference."
As they worked, Paisley's eyes lingered on a partially open file cabinet. She pulled it open fully, revealing stacks of patient files and other various documents. Her fingers traced over the labels, extracting one particularly thick folder.
"Liam, look at this," she said, passing the folder to him.
Liam flipped through the pages, eyebrows knitting in concentration. "These are research notes," he murmured. "On different outbreaks… looks like someone was studying infectious diseases before all this started."
Sam peered over Liam's shoulder, eyes widening as he read. "A pattern of airborne transmission… rapid mutation rates… These notes are detailed. Could this be connected to the Silverhurst Plague?"
Paisley glanced around, her ears sharpened for any sound that could spell danger. "We need to take these papers back to camp. They might be important."
Liam nodded, tucking the folder into his backpack. "Agreed."
Angus's voice called out from the front of the store, his tone urgent. "Time to move out! We've got company."
The group fell in line, exiting the pharmacy with practiced speed. Outside, the streets lay dormant, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation—a reminder that danger was always near.
The ride back to camp was smooth but tense. Silence hung heavy among the group, broken only by the occasional clinking of scavenged items and the soft hum of the truck's engine. Liam kept his eyes on the cityscape passing by, mind replaying their close encounter in the pharmacy. Sam sat beside him, leaning his head against Liam's shoulder, seeking both warmth and reassurance.
As the camp came into view, the barriers and the watchful eyes of the sentries restored a measure of safety. The truck pulled to a halt, and Angus's team set to work unloading the supplies with efficient, practiced movements. Captain Barland approached, surveying the haul with a nod of approval.
"Good haul today," She grunted, her eyes meeting Liam's. "Every little bit counts. Well done."
Liam, Sam, and Paisley helped carry the boxes into the makeshift storage area. The aroma of a simmering stew wafted through the camp, and Liam's stomach grumbled in response. They followed the scent to a communal area where a large pot of stew bubbled over a fire, tended by several camp members.
"Looks like we got here just in time," Sam remarked, a hint of gratitude in his voice.
They filled their bowls and found a spot under a nearby tree. The food was basic but nourishing, warmth spreading through their bodies with each bite. Paisley took a sip of her stew, savoring it in her mouth.
"You know, for a while there, I didn't think we'd make it back in one piece," she said, wrapping her hands around her bowl for extra warmth.
Liam glanced around, ensuring they weren't overheard. "Those files we found... they could be a game-changer. If the university has researchers who know this stuff, they might be closer to a cure than we think."
Sam looked up from his bowl, hope flickering in his eyes. "We need to get this information to them as soon as possible. If Colin's life is on the line, we can't delay."
Paisley nodded. "Elsie will know what to do with it. She's been working closely with the scientists."
The conversation dropped, the trio lost in their thoughts. The camp around them bustled with activity—people mending clothes, sharpening tools, attending to wounded, and children playing with makeshift toys, offering echoes of a world not yet fully lost.
After finishing their meal, they stood and walked towards the storage tent to check on their belongings.
Inside, the air was musty with the scent of old books and disinfectant. The boxes they brought from the pharmacy stood stacked against one corner. Liam reached into his backpack for the folder of research notes. His hands met empty space. Panic shot through him like a cold electric current.
"They're gone," he whispered, looking up in alarm.
"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Sam asked, already moving closer to inspect the bag himself.
Liam's hands frantically searched every pocket, every corner of the bag. "The research notes. They're not here."
Paisley took a cautious step closer, her eyes sharp with concern. "Are you sure? Maybe they got mixed up with the other supplies."
"No," Liam insisted, his voice wavering slightly. "I had them in the main pocket. They were there when we got into the truck."
Sam's brow furrowed, his mind running through possibilities. "Who could've taken them? We never left the supplies alone until we got back here."
A figure moved in the entrance of the storage tent. Captain Barland, her usually stern face now showing a hint of curiosity, walked toward them. "What's this about missing notes?"
Liam turned, determination hardening his features. "We found research notes in the pharmacy. They were documenting patterns in the infection. They're gone now."
Barland's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting someone in the camp took them?"
"I don't know," Liam admitted, "But if those notes are as important as I think they are, we need to find them. Fast."
Barland considered them for a moment, "Where did you last see these notes?"
"In my bag," Liam replied, lifting it up as if to prove his point. "They were there when we loaded up after the pharmacy. I checked again as soon as we got here."
Sam peeked into the storage boxes, lifting items to see if the folder had somehow slipped out. Nothing.
Barland sighed, rubbing her temples. "Alright, let's think logically. Could anyone have had access to your bag?"
"It was with us the whole time," Sam said firmly. "If someone took it, they must've done it while we were unloading supplies or eating lunch."
Paisley, standing by the entrance, glanced outside at the thrumming activity of the camp. "We should start asking questions. Someone might have seen something."
Barland nodded. "Agreed. Spread out, but be discreet. We don't want to cause a panic."
The trio split up, each heading in different directions to cover more ground. Liam moved toward the group by the fire pit, where a few people were making food and tending to the children.
"Hey, has anyone seen a blue folder—thick, with a bunch of papers? It must've fallen out of my bag," he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
A woman with a bandana looked up, shaking her head. "No, sorry, haven't seen anything like that. Maybe ask around the medical tent? There's been a lot of activity over there."
Liam nodded his thanks and moved on. His thoughts churned with worry. Those notes could hold key information.
Meanwhile, Paisley approached a group sorting supplies near the perimeter. "Hey, I'm looking for a file. Might've been picked up by mistake?"
A wiry teenager named Finn straightened, frowning thoughtfully. "I saw something earlier—some of the new arrivals, they looked pretty secretive. They were huddled by the supply crates, but I didn't think much of it. Maybe they found it?"
Paisley's eyes sharpened. "Thanks, Finn. I'll check it out."
Sam had found his way to the medical tent, where Nurse Kevia was taking inventory of the newly scavenged supplies. "Excuse me, Kevia. We're missing some important research notes. Have you seen them or heard anything?"
Kevia's tired eyes met his. "Research notes? No, I haven't. But I did see someone leaving the storage tent not long after you all came back. Tall man, grey jacket."
"That's a start. Thanks," Sam replied, already moving to find Liam and Paisley.
With quick strides, Sam retraced his steps and found Liam emerging from a conversation with more camp members. "Nurse Kevia mentioned something about a tall guy in a grey jacket. Let's find Paisley and compare notes."
They regrouped near the communal area, sharing what they'd learned.
"Finn mentioned something about new arrivals acting secretive," Paisley said. "Could be related."
Liam's eyes lit up. "Did Finn say where they went?"
"East side of the camp," Paisley replied.
The trio moved with purpose towards the east side of camp, weaving through the bustle of camp life, which suddenly felt oppressively noisy.
At the camp's east edge, they caught sight of a tall man in a grey jacket. He was bent over, speaking intently with another camp member, his back slightly hunched.
"Liam, I think that's the guy," Sam whispered, nodding towards the man. "Kevia's description fits perfectly."
Liam glanced around, ensuring no one else was paying them undue attention. "Let's follow him, but keep it quiet. No need to alert anyone just yet."
The man began to move, heading towards a row of tents set apart from the main camp. Liam, Sam, and Paisley trailed him, keeping a safe distance.
The man reached his tent and paused, glancing over his shoulder. The trio hid themselves behind a nearby tent, holding their breath. Satisfied he was alone, the man entered his tent, leaving the flap slightly ajar.
Liam gestured silently, and they crept closer. The hum of hushed rambling floated out from the tent. They exchanged a quick, determined look before cautiously inching closer.
Paisley crouched to peek through the gap in the tent flap. Inside, the man was hunched over a small lantern, spreading out documents—some of which looked very much like their missing notes.
"He has our file," Paisley whispered, her voice barely a breath. Liam's eyes narrowed. "We need that back. Let's wait until he leaves."
Minutes felt like hours as they huddled in silence behind the adjacent tent. The man finally stood, stretching before stepping outside and heading towards the latrine areas, his steps heavy with fatigue.
"Now's our chance," Liam hissed, motioning for Sam and Paisley to follow.
They slipped into the tent, careful not to disturb anything. The dim glow of the lantern cast flickering shadows on the canvas walls. Liam reached for the file, his fingers trembling slightly, and tucked it securely into his bag.
As he turned to leave, something caught Paisley's eye—a corner of what looked like a journal sticking out from under the man's sleeping bag. She pointed it out to Liam, her eyes questioning.
"We can't stay here long," Sam whispered, looking nervous. "If we linger too long he might catch us."
Liam glanced at the journal, then back at his friends. "This might help us understand more about what's going on. We need every piece of information we can get."
Sam hesitated, but then nodded, recognizing the urgency. "Alright, but let's be quick."
Paisley carefully lifted the edge of the sleeping bag and slid the journal out, flipping it open to the first page. Her eyes widened as she skimmed the contents.
"These are notes on the infection... personal observations. Look, there's even a sketch of an infected person," she murmured, holding the page up for them to see.
Paisley flipped through more pages, noting formulas and notations in a neat, hurried hand. "This guy... he might be a researcher."
Just then, the tent flap rustled. The man stepped back in, his pale blue eyes widening in shock before hardening into anger. "What're you doing in here?" His voice was low, dangerous, like a rumbling storm.
Liam stood firm, holding the file close. "We found what belongs to us. Why did you take it?"
The man's gaze darted to the journal in Paisley's hands. "Give that back. Now."
"We will," Liam replied, his voice steady but stern. "But first, you need to explain why you took our research notes."
The man's expression tightened, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. "Those notes... they're mine," he stammered, eyes darting between the trio. His fingers twitched as if itching to snatch the file back. Liam's grip tightened, not willing to give an inch.
The man swallowed hard, eyes flicking around as if searching for an escape.
"We're not leaving without answers, and you know it," Liam pressed, his voice unwavering. The man's shoulders slumped, surrender etched in every line of his face. He raised a hand, motioning them to sit. The tent's confined space made his gesture almost pointless, but the trio complied, watching him intently. He sank to the floor, crossing his legs and running a hand through his graying hair.
With a deep sigh, the man finally spoke, his voice low and haunted, "I know what started the outbreak."