Winter Raid

A biting wind whistled through the compound's partially boarded windows, carrying with it the sting of freshly fallen snow. Inside the main hall, Leila stood at a rickety table cluttered with charts, old maps, and a few salvaged medical references. The single lantern overhead cast long shadows across her face, highlighting the tension etched around her eyes. A dire shortage of medicine had come to a head in the past week—Fiona's infirmary was nearly depleted of the basic antibiotics, bandages, and painkillers needed for any winter-related injuries or infections.

She gathered the remnants of an old blueprint depicting a distant clinic about fifteen miles east. But rumors from a passing trader hinted that the clinic might still hold stockpiles of bandages, antiseptics, maybe even antibiotics locked away behind rusting doors. It was a risk the shelter couldn't afford to ignore.

Fiona joined Leila at the table, tapping an empty pill bottle with her gloved fingers. "We have enough antibiotics for maybe one or two bad infections," she said solemnly. "If we get more frostbite cases or even small lacerations that get infected, we're basically gambling lives."

Leila sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. She was tired from ration negotiations, fence watch rotations, and the near-constant worry over morale. "We can't wait," she murmured. "If we don't act now, the next serious injury could mean a burial."

Fiona's gaze flickered to the map. "That clinic is risky—long distance, unknown walker presence. But it's our best lead. If it has even half of what we suspect…" She left the sentence hanging, both of them knowing success could mean saving lives for the rest of winter.

"I'll put together a team," Leila decided. "We move at dawn. Swift and silent. In and out before nightfall."

No sooner had she spoken than a subtle presence at her side made her tense. Kai stepped closer, scanning the map. "The roads around that area used to be farmland," he said quietly. "If they're now covered in snow and ice, we'll have to watch for walkers hidden under drifts."

Leila nodded, her stomach tightening. The memory of their near-confessions and the consistent undercurrent of tension between them made her uneasy. She already felt close to him, too close. Each new threat hammered home that letting him in emotionally could be a liability if something happened. But his combat skills were undeniable, and with the uncertain dangers of a winter raid, leaving him behind felt almost irresponsible.

"I'm finalizing the roster," she said carefully. "We need Mark's strategic planning, Darren's leadership with watchers... and, well, your experience too." She forced her tone to remain as neutral as possible, though her heart thumped. "If you're willing."

"Of course. Whatever it takes," he replied simply. There was no smugness or bravado in his voice—just calm readiness. The very trait that made her want to keep him out of harm's way. But she knew better than to let personal feelings overshadow survival.

"All right," she managed. "We leave at first light. Dress warm, pack light, and be ready for anything."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, then retreated to give her space. She watched him go, tension coiling in her chest. I can't let these feelings compromise my decisions, she reminded herself, ignoring the spark of warmth his calm presence left behind.

When first light arrived, Leila assembled a handful of survivors in the courtyard: Mark, Kai, two watchers named Tanya and Caleb, plus a medic from Fiona's team. Each wore layered clothing, a scarf or balaclava, and carried basic weaponry—rifles, hatchets, or crowbars for close combat. The plan was straightforward—take the truck as far as the roads allowed, then proceed on foot to the clinic. Return before nightfall or risk being caught in the open in sub-freezing darkness.

Tanya fidgeted with her rifle's sling, face tense. "I hate leaving the compound for so long," she muttered. "But we need that medicine…"

Leila nodded. "We don't have a choice. We've done enough recon to know the roads are half-intact. With any luck, the snow drifts won't be too deep." She glanced briefly at Kai, who stood near the truck's tailgate, loading minimal supplies. When their eyes met, she swiftly looked away, telling herself it was to maintain composure in front of the team. Don't let them see any conflict. You are their leader, she thought.

Fiona stepped out to see them off, hugging her coat around her. "I've marked what we need specifically—painkillers, antibiotics, bandages, antiseptics. Any extra medical gear is a bonus, but focus on those. And please, watch your backs." Her gaze flicked to Leila with concern. "Come home safe, all of you."

Mark started the engine, tires crunching over snow. The group piled into the truck's bed or passenger seat, bracing themselves for a freezing ride. Leila hopped onto the passenger seat next to Mark, leaving Kai in the back with the watchers. She swallowed hard. I can't risk letting him see how much I worry, she told herself.

The truck rattled out of the compound's gate, driving slowly along a partially cleared path. White fields stretched out on either side, dotted with barren trees and the occasional ruin of a farmhouse. Leila peered from the passenger side window, searching for any sign of movement—walker or human. 

Behind her, Kai and the others kept a lookout as well, scanning the horizon. Every now and then, the truck hit a patch of ice, causing a brief skid. Mark expertly corrected the steering, but tension built each time the tires lost traction. They couldn't afford a breakdown this far from home.

After about forty minutes, Mark slowed to a stop at a stretch of road nearly buried under drifts. "This is where we go on foot," he announced. "Any deeper, and the truck might get stuck. We can't push it."

Everyone climbed out, wincing as the cold air bit their faces. Leila pulled her scarf tighter, the sharp chill making her eyes water. She pointed east. "From here, we walk maybe two miles. Keep close. If you see any sign of raiders or walkers, signal quietly."

As the group trudged on, the crunch of boots in snow became the only sound. Occasional glances back from Kai to Leila flickered with unspoken concern, but she clamped down on any emotional display. Focus on the mission, she repeated.

A half hour into the trek, they came upon a frozen creek. The ice covering it looked deceptively solid, forming a shortcut across the meandering water. Mark tested the edge with a firm stomp—no immediate crack, but the uncertain thickness gave him pause.

"We could cross here and shave off a mile," he said. "But if the ice is thin in the middle, it's trouble."

Leila bit her lip. Time was short, and the additional mile around might risk them returning after dark. "We'll cross carefully, single file," she decided. "Better than risking a longer route. Tanya, keep that rifle up. If we run into any walkers mid-ice, I don't want a scramble."

Kai came forward to test the ice a few steps ahead. Leila observed with a tight chest, a swirl of relief that he was thorough and skilled—and fear of letting him see any personal worry. He motioned them forward once he deemed the path stable enough.

Slowly, they traversed the creek. A few times, a loud creak made hearts skip beats, but they pressed on, eventually reaching the opposite bank without incident. Leila exhaled in relief, but the near missteps heightened the tension. She was acutely aware that a single moment of carelessness could lead to a tragedy.

As they regrouped on solid ground, Mark advanced to scout the area. Tanya and Caleb flanked him, rifles ready. Leila paused, turning to Kai, who stood just behind her. For a split second, their eyes met. Concern and empathy shone in his gaze, as if he wanted to say: You all right? She almost responded, a swirl of gratitude and anxiety mixing in her chest. But she caught herself, swallowing the words.

She stepped away instead, voice taut. "We should keep moving. The clinic isn't far." 

Eventually, they crested a small ridge, revealing the distant clinic: a squat, weathered building partially obscured by snowdrifts. An old sign near the entrance read "Health & Family Care" with half the lettering peeled away. No immediate walkers roamed the vicinity, though the silence felt ominous. 

Mark halted, motioning the group to crouch behind a collapsed fence. "We should do a quick perimeter check," he whispered. "No telling if undead or raiders are inside."

Leila nodded, turning to Kai. "Take the left side with Tanya, I'll go with Mark on the right. Caleb, watch our rear. We meet at the main doors."

Kai's gaze lingered, but he only said, "Understood." Then he and Tanya slipped off into the swirling snow, rifles at the ready.

Leila watched them go, her chest tight. She had included him in the mission because of his skill, but every moment, a flicker of worry tore at her composure. Stay safe, she almost whispered, but instead she forced a steely mask, motioning Mark to follow her.

As Leila and Mark circled the clinic's battered flank, boots crunching through drifts, her mind spun with anxious thoughts: the dire need for medical supplies, the risk of stumbling into undead inside the dark corridors, the constant tension with Kai that swelled whenever they were near each other. She inhaled sharply, forging on. They had no choice but to push forward—people back home depended on them returning with antibiotics and bandages.