Chapter 27

The bunker was still. The only sound was the occasional creak of metal as Jack and Frank finished securing the entrance. Alex sat up, his muscles aching from the earlier fight. He glanced around the room, feeling the weight of the silence that had settled over the group. 

Eva leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her face still sharp with concentration. Jack was hunched over, his hands resting on his knees, eyes distant, while Frank stood by the entrance, keeping an eye on the makeshift barricade. Sarah sat quietly by the heater, her hands still gripping the rifle as if afraid to let go. 

Alex's eyes flicked to the unconscious scavenger lying nearby. His chest rose and fell slowly—alive, but barely. The others they had fought lay motionless on the ground, their bodies cooling under the dim light of the bunker.

"We need to decide what to do with him," Alex said quietly, nodding toward the surviving scavenger.

Jack lifted his head, his expression hardening. "We should end it. He's a threat. He knows where we are."

Frank turned from the barricade, shaking his head. "We don't kill people who can't fight back. It's not who we are."

Jack snorted, his frustration clear. "Not who we are? We're not in the world we used to be, Frank. This isn't some morality contest. The minute we let him go, he's telling his people exactly where to find us. You want another fight tomorrow?"

Frank didn't answer, his jaw tightening. Sarah looked between them, her face pale, but she didn't speak.

Eva finally pushed off the wall, stepping forward. "Jack's right," she said, her voice steady but cold. "We can't risk it. He's a liability. If we don't do it now, we might regret it."

A knot formed in Alex's stomach. He didn't like the idea of killing a defenseless person, but the truth was hard to ignore. They were barely holding on, constantly looking over their shoulders. Trust wasn't something they could afford to give freely.

But killing someone in cold blood? Even now, it felt like crossing a line.

"We can tie him up, leave him somewhere far from here," Alex said, trying to find a compromise. "Let him make it on his own. If he survives, he survives."

Jack scoffed. "You think he won't find his way back? Or that his people won't come looking?"

Eva stared at Alex, her eyes narrowing. "It's your call," she said. "But you're putting all of us at risk if you let him live."

Alex felt the weight of their stares pressing down on him. They were looking to him for a decision, for leadership. **Damn it**, he thought. It had always been like this—responsibility falling squarely on his shoulders. And every choice he made seemed to carry more risk than the last.

He glanced at the scavenger. The man was young, maybe in his twenties, his face smeared with blood. He had been one of the first to attack, desperate and wild. Alex wondered if that desperation came from the same place as theirs—the need to survive in a world that no longer made sense.

"I won't kill him," Alex said finally, his voice firm. "But we're not letting him go either. We'll keep him here until we figure out what to do. Tie him up and make sure he can't run."

Jack muttered something under his breath but didn't argue. Frank nodded, relief flashing across his face. Eva didn't seem pleased, but she didn't protest either.

As Frank moved to tie the scavenger's hands behind his back, Alex turned to the rest of the group. "Get some sleep. We'll need to move out tomorrow. This place isn't safe anymore. We scout in the morning and figure out where to go next."

Jack stood up, rolling his shoulders with a wince. "You think we'll find somewhere better than this?"

Alex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "We don't have a choice. The scavengers know we're here, and it's only a matter of time before more show up. We can't stay."

Sarah, who had been silent for most of the conversation, finally spoke up. "Where do we go? It's not like the next place will be any safer."

Alex looked at her, understanding her fear. The truth was, he didn't know where they would go. The world outside was dangerous no matter where they went. But staying in one place, letting their enemies gather strength—it wasn't an option.

"We'll figure it out," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "One step at a time."

The group fell into silence again, each lost in their own thoughts. The bunker, once a place of refuge, now felt like a cage—its cold, concrete walls closing in on them.

Alex stretched out on the hard floor, his mind racing with plans. They would need to move fast, cover more ground, and find a new place to lay low. Maybe they'd find something more secure, maybe not. But they couldn't afford to wait for danger to come knocking again.

As sleep crept closer, Alex found his thoughts wandering to Daz and the others once more. **Where the hell were they?**

It had been too long since their scouting mission, and the silence was deafening. No word. No tracks. Nothing.

Alex clenched his jaw, feeling that familiar twist of worry deep in his gut. He would have to send someone out to look for them soon, maybe even go himself. He couldn't lose more people. Not now.

Just as his eyes began to drift shut, a faint sound echoed through the bunker. 

Footsteps. Approaching from outside.

Alex's eyes snapped open. He wasn't sure if anyone else heard it—perhaps they were already asleep, exhausted from the fight—but the sound was unmistakable.

His heart pounded as he sat up quietly, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife strapped to his side. **Not again.**

The footsteps grew louder, more deliberate, like someone—or something—was trying to approach unnoticed. But they weren't quiet enough. Whoever was out there had made a mistake.

Alex crouched, motioning for Eva, who was still awake, her eyes alert. She nodded silently, reaching for her gun.

They crept toward the entrance together, every movement controlled, their breaths shallow. Alex pressed his ear to the door, listening.

The footsteps stopped.

A long, tense silence followed, stretching out until it felt unbearable.

Alex held his breath, his grip tightening on the handle of his knife. His eyes met Eva's, and for a second, they both just listened, the air around them heavy with anticipation.

Then, from outside, there was a low rustle, like something brushing against the metal of the bunker. Not human—too small. A soft scrape followed, the sound of nails or claws on the concrete floor outside.

Alex exhaled, slowly easing away from the door. He motioned for Eva to stay put as he carefully pulled back the edge of the barricade, just enough to peer through.

He saw it instantly.

A dog. Its thin body moved with caution as it sniffed the ground, scavenging for food. Its ribs were visible beneath a matted coat, and its eyes were wide, fearful. Alex's tension drained in an instant, his muscles relaxing as he realized there was no immediate threat.

Eva stepped closer, seeing the animal for herself. "A stray," she whispered, lowering her gun. "Probably looking for scraps."

Alex nodded, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. "Yeah. Just a stray."

The dog, oblivious to the humans nearby, sniffed along the base of the bunker wall before padding away into the darkness. Alex watched it go, a strange sense of relief washing over him. But as it disappeared into the night, the knot in his stomach remained.

This time, it had just been a hungry animal. Next time, they might not be so lucky.

He turned back to Eva, who raised an eyebrow. "Guess we're not getting much rest tonight."

Alex chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. "Doesn't seem like it."

They both settled back near the entrance, keeping watch for the rest of the night. Sleep could wait—after all, it was survival first.