Unwelcome

The refugee camp emerged from the dense forest like a mirage—a cluster of worn tents and makeshift structures hidden deep within the woods. Flickering fires cast uneven light on tired faces, and the scent of damp earth hung heavy in the air.

The people inside were silent and suspicious, their eyes filled with exhaustion and distrust. They watched our group approach with guarded expressions, hands resting near weapons but not yet drawn. It was clear we were unwelcome.

"This is it," Steph said quietly, her eyes scanning the camp. "They'll take us in... but it won't be easy."

We were led to Elias, the camp leader, whose sharp gaze flickered over us with scrutiny. His face was unreadable, but his eyes held a calm authority, the kind that comes from hard choices and heavy burdens.

"You've brought trouble with you," Elias said, his tone cool but not unkind. His eyes lingered on Apollo, who leaned heavily against me, pale and sweating.

"We just need a place to rest," Lecroix said, stepping forward. "And we won't stay long."

Elias crossed his arms, studying Lecroix and me like a man weighing risks. Finally, he gave a small nod. "You can stay the night. But no promises beyond that."

We were shown to a corner of the camp, tucked under a worn tarp stretched between two trees. It wasn't much, but it was shelter. Apollo slumped onto a patchwork blanket, his breathing shallow but even.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," I whispered, kneeling beside him. "We need to let you rest."

"I'll rest when we figure this out," Apollo murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile. "You always did worry too much."

I gave a tired laugh, brushing my fingers through his hair. The small moment of peace felt fragile—too easily broken.

As the night settled around the camp, Lecroix appeared beside me, his expression unreadable. He crouched down, offering a canteen of water.

"Here," he said quietly, his voice low. "You need to take care of yourself too, Lib."

I accepted the canteen, our fingers brushing briefly. The warmth of his touch lingered longer than it should have, stirring emotions I wasn't ready to confront.

"You okay?" Lecroix asked, his gaze steady on mine. There was no pressure in his question, just a quiet concern that was more comforting than words.

I nodded, though my throat felt tight. "I will be."

Later that night, Elias returned, his expression grim. "I hear your group's been stirring up trouble on the outside."

"Trouble follows us," Steph said flatly, her rifle resting across her lap.

Elias gave her a thin smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "It does." He shifted his gaze to me. "There's something you need to know."

He sat down beside the fire, his expression heavy with the weight of unspoken knowledge. "There are rumors—about remnants of Phase Three still out there."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my stomach knotting with unease.

"Live strains," Elias said, his voice low. "Not just the infected, but samples. Some say they're stored in hidden facilities. Others say they were released deliberately."

The air around us grew heavier with his words. We had thought destroying the research center ended it. But it hadn't—not completely.

"Do you know where these live strains are?" Lecroix asked, his tone steady but tense.

Elias gave a small shrug. "Nobody knows for sure. But the rumors have been enough to make the government nervous."

"And if they get their hands on those strains..." Zeke trailed off, his face darkening with the implications. "They'll have control over everything."

Steph leaned back, her gaze sharp. "We can't leave that kind of power in their hands."

"And what do you suggest?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"We find those strains," Steph said simply. "And we destroy them."

A heavy silence followed her words. It was a dangerous plan—one that would pit us against both the infected and the government. But it was also our only chance to end this nightmare for good.

Lecroix glanced at me, his expression steady. "What do you think, Lib?"

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on my chest. We were already running out of time—and options.

"I think..." I began, glancing at Apollo, whose breathing had grown shallower as the night deepened. "We don't have a choice."

Elias gave a short nod, as if he had expected nothing less. "You've got until morning to decide."

He stood and disappeared into the shadows, leaving us with nothing but the flicker of the fire and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Lecroix settled beside me again, his shoulder brushing against mine. "We'll figure this out," he said softly, his voice full of quiet reassurance.

I leaned into him, just slightly, the warmth of his presence more comforting than the fire. Whatever happened next, I knew we'd face it together.