Sleepless Nights

Leila realized, with a jolt of clarity, that they were still a team—battered, betrayed, but not broken. And that was all she could ask for right now.

She hoisted her rifle, the weight of the duffel bag digging into her shoulder. "Alright, let's get it done," she said, steeling herself for whatever they might find in those dark, musty rooms. Another day, another battle to keep the nightmares at bay.

As they fanned out toward the abandoned cul-de-sac, Leila felt a flicker of determination stir within her. Jace and Ellie might be out there, plotting revenge. The infected might surge in at any moment. But for now, she had supplies, she had her group, and she had a single, unyielding purpose—survive.

And so they pressed on, guided by the faint hope that somewhere beyond the horizon, they might find a corner of the world where trust could grow again, where betrayal wouldn't define them. Where, against all odds, they could build something worth fighting for.

The cul-de-sac lay at the far edge of a once-quaint neighborhood, its picturesque houses now battered by time and the relentless chaos of the apocalypse. A handful of lawns were overgrown with waist-high weeds, while others looked like they'd been torn to pieces—whether by infected or something else, Leila couldn't be sure. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across broken windows and faded paint, adding an eerie stillness to the scene.

Leila's group moved carefully, guns at the ready. Mark took the lead, scanning each driveway and porch for signs of movement. Darren stuck close to Fiona, who seemed determined to keep him in sight after his recent injuries. Kai brought up the rear, watchful, silent. As for Leila, she stayed near the middle, eyes constantly roving from house to house, her senses heightened by the ever-present threat of the infected.

"It's too quiet," Mark muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "You'd think there'd be something—runners, strays, anything."

Leila grimaced, reminded of how unpredictably the infected could appear. "Don't jinx it," she said, her tone half-joking, half-deadly serious. "Last thing we need is a horde catching us off guard."

Fiona paused at the mailbox of a dilapidated house. "Should we check inside?" she asked softly, gesturing to the battered front door.

Leila weighed the risk. "Yeah, but keep it quick. Check for supplies—food, meds, anything. We can't afford to miss a chance to restock."

Mark and Fiona exchanged a look, then moved toward the door with Darren close behind. Kai lingered beside Leila, eyes flicking between the empty windows overhead and the deserted street. His presence felt steady, almost comforting—a stark contrast to the turmoil she still felt inside. Jace and Ellie had driven a wedge of doubt into her mind about who she could trust, but for now, Kai seemed intent on proving he had her back.

Minutes ticked by, tension coiling in Leila's stomach. The breeze rustled the leaves of a dead oak tree, stirring dust across the pavement. Somewhere in the distance, a single infected let out a garbled moan, but it sounded too far off to be an immediate threat.

Kai cleared his throat. "They should be quick," he said, nodding at the door. "If they find anything useful, we might be able to camp here for the night, barricade a couple rooms and rest. You're still banged up."

Leila exhaled slowly, testing the ache in her ribs. The bruises reminded her of Jace's fury, the memory laced with raw anger and betrayal. "I'll live," she said, then forced a wry smirk. "But a real roof over our heads might be a nice change."

Kai's lips curved into a faint smile. "We'd still need to clear the house. There could be infected inside."

"Then we'll clear it," Leila replied, her voice steady. "I'm not letting some stragglers chase us off if we can lock this place down."

Before Kai could respond, the front door creaked open. Mark stepped out onto the porch, beckoning them over. Fiona appeared behind him, offering Leila a nod that suggested the coast was clear. Darren followed, his rifle at the ready, just in case.

"It's empty," Mark said, his voice low. "We found a couple of canned goods, some bottled water in a pantry that was locked—guess no one bothered to break it open. The house seems intact, no signs of infected inside."

Fiona lifted a small box of medical supplies she'd discovered. "Basic stuff, but it's better than nothing. Bandages, some over-the-counter painkillers."

Leila felt a wave of relief. "Good. We can use this as a fallback, at least for tonight." She nodded at Darren. "You holding up?"

Darren managed a tight-lipped grin. "I've been worse."

"Alright," she said. "Let's go inside, see if there's a safe spot to hunker down. Then we'll figure out watches for the night."

They followed her through the door, stepping into a short hallway. The air inside was stale, carrying a faint musty odor. Faded family photos lined the walls—a mother, father, and two kids smiling broadly, frozen in a happier time. The sight tugged at Leila's heart, a sharp reminder of everything this world had lost.

Mark led the way into what seemed like a living room. The furniture lay covered in dust, a couch and armchair askew as though whoever lived here once fled in a hurry. Darren moved to check the back rooms, while Fiona tested the faucets in the kitchen, hoping some water might still run. Kai eased a wooden board over the shattered window near the front door, trying to reinforce the entry.

Leila hovered by the fireplace, her rifle resting against her shoulder. She couldn't help but think about how nice it would be to have a real fire, something warm and comforting against the night. But she also knew the smoke and light could draw unwanted attention. Her mind churned with what-ifs, each scenario feeling more dire than the last.

"Cleared the back rooms," Darren announced, returning with a slight limp. "No infected, no sign of recent activity. Might be safe enough for now."

Fiona rejoined them, shaking her head about the water. "Pipes are dry, but we do have those bottled waters we found. It'll do."

Leila glanced around at the dusty furniture and boarded windows. "Alright. Let's set up in the living room. We'll block off the hallway if we can, keep our perimeter small. One person on watch, rotating every couple hours."

"Sounds good," Mark said, already moving to drag an old bookcase across the hallway entrance. Darren helped him, wincing whenever he put pressure on his injured side.

Kai stood watch at the front window, peering through a gap in the makeshift barricade. "Neighborhood's quiet," he reported, his voice a subdued murmur in the stillness. "But who knows how long that'll last."

Leila nodded, letting a thin thread of tension unravel from her shoulders. The day had been long, the past weeks longer still. Rest was a rare commodity. "We get a little sleep," she said, "then we move on before midday. We can't stay put too long."

Darren gave a curt nod. "I'll take first watch."

Fiona carefully set the medical supplies on a rickety coffee table. "If anyone needs dressing changes, let me know now, or it'll have to wait until morning." She eyed Darren's arm, but he brushed her off with a small grin.

The group settled into the dusty living room, each claiming a spot where they could lean against a wall or piece of furniture. Mark and Kai worked quickly to secure any weak points—tossing a sagging armchair against the back door, covering shattered window panes with planks from a broken table. It wasn't perfect, but it was something.

Leila rested her head against the wall, letting the day's exhaustion wash over her. She closed her eyes for a moment, but her thoughts refused to quiet. Memories of Jace and Ellie pressed in: the tension in their voices, the venom in Ellie's eyes when she pulled that gun. She thought of the new threat—a rival group, armed and hungry for territory—and of Kai's odd mixture of warmth and lethal capability.

You can't do this alone, a voice in her mind whispered, sounding alarmingly like Kai. She knew it was true, but accepting help felt like handing over a piece of her control.

A soft scrape on the floorboards made her open her eyes. Kai stood in front of her, offering a battered blanket he must have scavenged from one of the bedrooms. "Might keep the chill off," he said, voice low.

She hesitated, then accepted the blanket with a grateful nod. Draping it over her shoulders, she felt a pang of gratitude that mingled uneasily with the embers of distrust she still carried from Jace and Ellie's betrayal. Kai seemed genuine—so far. But in this world, everyone had secrets.

"Get some rest," he said softly. "I'll help Darren with watch."

Leila nodded, a tightness in her chest easing just a fraction. As she drifted off, the last thing she saw was Kai moving to the window, his silhouette framed by the faint glow of dawn. She tried not to wonder if, eventually, he too would betray her.