The Messenger

Liam jerked awake to a sharp crack of thunder that sounded as if it had split the sky. Rain struck the makeshift roof of their tent in angry torrents. In the dim light of dawn, the camp teemed with life. Survivors scurried to secure flapping tarps and shore up mud-soaked barricades. Beside him, Sam rubbed his eyes, still sluggish with sleep.

"What a wake-up call," Sam muttered, tugging his jacket tighter around him.

"Lucky we put that extra layer on the tent last night," Liam said, nodding toward the tarp overhead, which sagged heavily under pooling water. He nudged a corner with his boot, causing a deluge to cascade harmlessly away.

Paisley emerged from her own tent nearby, clutching a pot. "No point fighting it. Might as well get breakfast going."

Liam pushed the tent flap aside and stepped into the downpour, instantly soaked. The cold was a slap to the senses, wrenching him fully awake. He spotted Noah and Molly across the way, wrestling with a tarp that had come loose. Their curses barely audible over the storm's roar.

"Need a hand?" Liam called out, making his way toward them.

Noah glanced up, his face grim. "Could use one more set of hands before this whole thing blows away."

Together, they secured the tarp, wrestling knots into wet rope with numb fingers. When it was done, the three of them stood under its tenuous shelter, panting and shivering.

"Storm wasn't in the forecast," Molly remarked, tying off the last section with a grimace.

"Nothing is these days," Liam chuckled.

Captain Barland strode by, drenched but undeterred. "I've got new duties for all of you," she barked, not breaking stride. "Meet me at the mess hall in five minutes."

Noah raised an eyebrow at Liam, who shrugged. "Guess we're about to find out what our next adventure is."

They converged at the mess hall where survivors huddled around steaming plates of eggs and bacon. Barland wasted no time assigning tasks, her voice cutting through the damp air with military precision.

"The storm hit at the worst possible time," Captain Barland announced from the head of the room, her presence commanding and unyielding. "We're half a step from a swamp out there. We need drainage ditches dug and sandbags in place. Noah, you're manning the south barrier. Molly, you take the northeast corner with Paisley. Shut down the breeched section ASAP."

Noah saluted—a mocking gesture, but one Barland ignored. Molly and Paisley joined him, already launching into a plan about which tools to grab and in what order. Barland's eyes met Liam's and Sam's last, her gaze softening just a fraction.

"Liam, Sam," Barland began, a hint of a sigh in her voice. "You two are on bathroom detail. The main latrines need a thorough cleaning before they become a health risk."

Sam groaned quietly, and Liam couldn't help but smirk. "Guess we drew the short straw."

"Don't look too pleased with yourself," Sam nudged Liam, grinning. "I'm dragging you down into this mess with me."

Barland gave them a firm nod. "Get to it, gentlemen. The supplies are already there." The captain turned on her heel, leaving them to their task.

They made their way to the backside of the old burnt down gymnasium where the bathrooms, the only surviving part of the building, were located, the rain continuing to pelt them relentlessly. The stench hit them before they even reached the door.

"Yikes. Whoever used these last didn't seem to care much for hygiene," Liam muttered, pulling his shirt up over his nose.

Sam grimaced, grabbing a pair of rubber gloves from a nearby crate. "If I never have to smell this again, it'll be too soon. Let's get it over with."

Inside, the scene was worse than they had feared. Muddy footprints covered the floor, and the stalls looked like they hadn't seen a cleaning brush in weeks. Liam grabbed a couple of cleaning brushes, while Sam fetched a bucket of soapy water.

"Think of it this way," Sam said, dipping his brush into the bucket and scrubbing the tile floor vigorously. "At least we're out of the rain for a bit."

Liam chuckled, wringing out his mop. "Small victories, I guess."

As they worked, conversation flowed naturally, a welcome distraction from the unpleasant task. Liam glanced over at Sam, who was scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain. "Hey, about yesterday..."

"Yeah?" Sam didn't look up, focusing on his scrubbing.

"I meant what I said." Liam's voice was steady, despite the storm outside and the smell inside. "I'm glad we're in this together."

Sam paused, then straightened up, meeting Liam's gaze. "Me too. I couldn't imagine facing all this... without you." There was a spark of something more in Sam's eyes, a shared understanding, unspoken but deeply felt.

"Enough with the mushy stuff," Liam chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's finish this before we suffocate."

Hours passed as they scrubbed and cleaned, transforming the filthy bathrooms into something passably sanitary. By the time they were done, both were exhausted, their muscles aching, but the sense of accomplishment was evident in their expressions.

"Not bad for a couple of amateurs," Sam said, throwing a mock salute to Liam.

Liam grinned. "We make a good team."

Stepping back into the main area of the camp, the rain had lightened to a drizzle. The rest of the camp buzzed with activity as people adjusted to their new duties. Captain Barland approached them, her sharp eyes scanning their soaked and mud-speckled forms.

"How'd it go?" she asked, almost as if she already knew the answer.

"Spotlessly," Sam joked, throwing his arm around Liam's shoulders. "We're thinking of starting a cleaning service."

Barland's lips twitched in what might have been the hint of a smile. "Good work. Head to the mess tent for some food, then get some rest. We've still got a long list of tasks for this afternoon."

As they made their way toward the mess tent, where the smell of hearty stew warmed the air, Liam nudged Sam. "Hey, think there's any chance we'll get a normal job tomorrow?"

Sam shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We could ask for bathroom duty again. We're experts now."

Liam laughed, the sound cutting through the storm and dreariness. "I'll pass. Once is enough for me."

Inside the mess tent, the atmosphere was almost cozy, the warm food and familiar faces gave them some solace against the relentless storm outside. Noah and Molly waved them over to a table already laden with plates.

"How was toilet duty?" Noah asked, barely containing a laugh.

"Let's just say it builds character," Liam replied, plopping down beside him and reaching for a steaming bowl. "What about you guys?"

"Got everything secured just in time," Molly responded, polishing off her own meal. "Felt like we were wrestling down a rogue bull."

As they ate, the tent flap burst open, the wind whipping in as a figure appeared silhouetted against the gray sky. It was a man, soaked and shivering, clearly having traveled through the storm. He carried a large, waterproof satchel slung over his shoulder.

Captain Barland rose from her table and strode toward the newcomer, her presence as commanding as ever. The man handed her a piece of paper, and she read it quickly before nodding curtly. She gestured for him to follow her to her office at the back of the tent. The group watched as they disappeared from view, curiosity prickling at their collective consciousness.

"Who do you reckon he is?" Paisley asked, eyes trailing after Captain Barland and the messenger.

"Whoever he is, he brought news," Noah said, his tone just enough of a mix of curiosity and concern to match the rest of their thoughts.

Molly leaned in, lowering her voice. "Think it's something big? I mean, he came through the storm and all."

Their conversation halted as Captain Barland returned, her expression steely. Barland's eyes swept over the mess hall. "Alright, listen up everyone. Afternoon duties are as follows—"

Noah cut in, "When do we get our hands on the juicy info?"

Barland gave him a look that could freeze fire. "You'll know when you need to know. Now, Noah and Molly, you're on patrol duty. The south perimeter needs extra eyes with this storm mucking up visibility. Sam and Liam, you'll assist in the infirmary. We've got new casualties rolling in, and Nurse Kevia says there's not enough hands to keep up."

Liam nodded, fighting the urge to ask more questions. Captain Barland didn't dole out information lightly, and that usually meant she had reasons she deemed good enough.

"Paisley, you'll join the ration team. We need someone to help manage the supplies coming in—and make sure no one's skimming off the top," Barland finished, then turned sharply, striding back toward her office.

Sam leaned in conspiratorially. "What do you think it is? Maybe he's another Dr. Delaney with more wild stories."

"Whatever it is, it's important enough to drag someone through this weather," Liam mused, scratching at his damp hair. "Guess we'll find out eventually."

"Let's get moving," Sam urged, nodding toward the infirmary. "We don't want to keep them waiting."

They split up, each set on their newly assigned paths. The infirmary's air was thick with antiseptic and the low hum of strained power generators. Beds lined each wall, and the room now buzzed with frenetic activity and hushed conversations.

Nurse Kevia immediately beckoned them over, dark circles under her eyes. "You're just in time. We've got a soldier down with a nasty cut on his arm. Grab those bandages."

They jumped into action, Sam holding the soldier's arm steady while Liam unwrapped a roll of gauze. "How's he look?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Better than this morning. We managed to stitch him up, but we're out of lidocaine so I couldn't numb him up," Kevia replied, her focus never wavering from her task.

"You'll need daily cleaning and fresh bandages. Infection could set in otherwise," Kevia said to the soldier, securing the last of the gauze. She straightened and glanced around the room full of soldiers who had been injured while taking down infected. "Alright, next task. Liam, Sam, I need you both to take inventory of the medical supplies in the back. We're running low on essentials, and I need to know what we're short on."

As they made their way to the storeroom, Liam nudged Sam. "Look, I know we should do inventory, but first, let's try and listen in on Barland's conversation. This might be our only chance to know what's really going on."

Sam smirked. "You want to play spies now? Alright, but let's be quick about it. Kevia will notice if we're missing for too long."

They detoured toward Captain Barland's office, slipping silently through the bustling camp. The storm outside had masked any sound they made, and their footsteps were swallowed by the soaked ground. They reached the rear of Barland's tent, and paused, their ears straining to catch the muted voices within.

Liam crouched and pressed his ear closer. "I'm telling you, Barland," the stranger's voice was urgent and low. "There's been a breakthrough in the research. They've found a serum that might just work as a vaccine against the infection."

Captain Barland's voice, calm and steady, replied, "What's the catch? There's always a catch."

The messenger hesitated. "It's not ready for mass distribution. Testing isn't complete, and the supply is limited. The good news is that initial tests have been promising, Captain. They've used rats, and the results look good," the messenger continued, his voice filled with restrained hope. "But they'll need more time and resources to confirm if it's really effective."

Barland's silence spoke volumes. Liam could almost picture her calculating the risks and logistics in her mind. Finally, she replied, "This is good news but we need to handle this information carefully."

Sam shifted beside Liam, his curiosity piqued. He whispered, "They've found something that might work? Do you think it's true?"

Liam shrugged, eyes fixed on the shadowy figures inside the tent. "If it is, it could change everything. But it could also be false hope. We've seen enough of that already."

Inside, Barland's voice dropped lower, making it harder to catch every word. "...security... how do we... protect...from spreading mistrust?"

The messenger responded, though not much clearer. "...can't keep...included... strategic rollout..."

"Let's get back," Liam whispered, pulling on Sam's sleeve.

Sam nodded. They took a few steps back and then hurried around the corner, blending into the controlled chaos of the camp. The storeroom was as they left it, shelves lined with dwindling supplies of bandages, antibiotics, and various necessary medicines.

"Let's get this done," Liam said, his mind still racing with the new information. "We'll need to keep an eye on Barland and the messenger. This might be big."

Sam nodded and set to work, but their minds wandered back to the conversation they'd overheard. The repetitive task of taking inventory provided little distraction from the buzzing thoughts in their heads.

They caught glimpses of new faces passing by the infirmary entrance, survivors of all ages, some wounded, some gaunt and pale from the strain of living on the edge. Amidst the chaos, there lay a fragile sense of hope.

"Bandages are running low," Liam announced, jotting down yet another item on their depleted list. He sighed as he looked at the rows of nearly empty shelves. "We're going to need another supply run soon."

Sam nodded, fumbling with a dusty bottle of rubbing alcohol. "We should tell Nurse Kevia once we're done. We need to be prepared even if there's truly a vaccine.

Finishing their inventory, they returned to Nurse Kevia, who was busy dressing a young child's scraped knee. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, but the exhaustion in her eyes was evident.

"All done with the supplies check, Kevia," Sam said, handing over their list. "We're running low on bandages, disinfectants, and some meds."

"Thanks, boys," Kevia replied, giving the list a cursory glance before tucking it under her arm. "I'll see what I can do about getting a resupply. It seems that nothing gets easier, does it?"

"Nope," Liam said, tilting his head toward the tent's entrance. "What's the story with the new guy? The messenger?"

Kevia's eyes darkened. "All I know is that he came from another camp with urgent news. Captain Barland's keeping it close to her chest for now."

Liam and Sam exchanged glances. They knew more than they let on, but it wasn't the time to share. Instead, they nodded, gearing up for their next task. As they left the infirmary, Liam couldn't help but feel some uncertainty.

"Hey, Liam," Sam said quietly as they stepped out into the camp, his voice almost drowned by the steady drizzle. "We need to tell Paisley what we overheard."

Liam glanced around to ensure they were alone. "You sure?"

"We can't keep this to ourselves. What if this vaccine is real? We need everyone on the same page," Sam argued, his eyes earnest. "Plus, you know Paisley. She's smart. She can help us figure out our next move."

"Alright," Liam conceded, running a hand through his wet hair. "Let's find her."

Navigating the muddy pathways, they spotted Paisley near the ration station. She was busy handing out supplies, a smile plastered on her face despite the bleak weather. She noticed them approaching and waved.

"You two look like you've been up to no good," Paisley greeted, her voice light but her eyes scanning them with curiosity.

"You wouldn't be wrong," Sam said, his tone dropping to a more serious note. "We overheard something. We think you should know about it."

Paisley's smile faltered. She glanced around to ensure no one was within earshot. "Alright. Spill."

Liam leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. "We overheard Captain Barland talking to that messenger. They found something—a serum that might work as a vaccine against the infection."

Paisley's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Sam nodded, leaning closer. "Yeah, but the catch is it's not ready for mass distribution. They haven't finished testing, and the supply is limited."

Paisley chewed on her bottom lip, processing the information. "This could change everything. How many people know about this?"

"Just us, Barland, and the messenger as far as we know," Liam replied. "And Barland seemed pretty keen on keeping it under wraps for now."

Paisley glanced around at the bustling camp, her expression pensive. "We need to be careful. If word gets out and it's not a sure thing, it could cause false hope."

"We just have to stay alert," Sam added, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "The second Barland starts deploying any new protocols or the like, we'll know something is up."

Paisley nodded, her face resolute. "Alright. Let's get this rationing finished and meet back at our tent. We'll figure out what to do next."

As they separated, each returning to their respective duties, the weight of their newfound knowledge pressed down on them. The potential of the vaccine brought hope, yet, the uncertainty of its true efficacy and Barland's secrecy created an unease that didn't sit easily with any of them.