Fractures of Alliance

The morning sun barely broke through the gray haze of the apocalyptic sky as the group trudged forward, their silence heavy and tense. Leah clutched Hope close to her chest, the baby swaddled tightly against the morning chill. She could feel Maren's glare burning into the back of her head, and it was only a matter of time before the simmering tension boiled over.

"You've put us all at risk," Maren's voice cut through the quiet, sharp and accusatory. "A baby? In this world? How long do you think we can keep her quiet? Or feed her? You're endangering everyone."

Leah stopped abruptly, turning to face Maren. "She's my daughter," Leah said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her. "And I won't leave her behind."

Maren scoffed, crossing her arms. "Your daughter? You've barely spoken about her before. Don't lie to me, Leah. We all know she isn't yours."

Jonah stepped between them, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Enough, both of you. This isn't the time for this."

"It's exactly the time," Maren snapped. "We're wasting resources on a child who isn't even hers. And for what? To satisfy Leah's need to play hero?"

Leah's grip on Hope tightened. "If protecting an innocent life makes me a hero, then so be it. But don't pretend like you're the only one trying to survive here, Maren."

The air crackled with unspoken words, and for a moment, it seemed like the fragile unity holding the group together might shatter completely. Elias's voice finally broke the standoff. "We keep moving," he said firmly. "We don't have time for this."

Maren shot Leah one last venomous glare before turning and walking ahead. Leah took a shaky breath, adjusting Hope's position in her arms. Jonah lingered for a moment, giving her a small nod before following Maren.

---

By midday, the group came to a river, its rushing waters cutting a jagged line through the barren landscape. A bridge stretched across it, but it was in shambles—half of its planks missing and the support beams groaning ominously with every gust of wind.

"We can't cross that," Maren said flatly, her eyes scanning the precarious structure. "It's suicide."

"We don't have a choice," Elias replied, his tone resolute. "The alternative is doubling back, and that's a death sentence. The Others will catch up."

Leah stepped forward, shifting Hope to her other arm. "I'll go first."

"Absolutely not," Maren snapped. "You'll kill yourself and the baby. Let someone else—"

"I said I'll go first," Leah interrupted, her voice firm. "She's lighter than any of you. If the bridge can hold us, it can hold her."

Elias hesitated, then nodded. "Be careful."

Leah approached the bridge, her heart pounding. The planks creaked under her weight as she stepped onto the bridge, each step feeling more precarious than the last. The river roared beneath her, a cold, relentless reminder of what waited if she fell.

Halfway across, one of the planks snapped, sending splinters flying. Leah froze, clutching Hope tightly, her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, it felt like the entire bridge might give way.

"Leah, keep moving!" Jonah called from the bank, his voice filled with urgency.

Summoning her courage, Leah took another step, then another, until finally, her feet found solid ground on the other side. She turned, breathless but triumphant. "It's safe enough. Come on."

The group crossed one by one, each person's crossing a nerve-wracking ordeal. Maren was the last to cross, her face pale and her knuckles white as she gripped the rope railing. When she finally made it to the other side, she shot Leah a look that was equal parts anger and grudging respect.

The moment of relief was short-lived. The group gathered themselves quickly, pressing on. But the fractures within their alliance had grown deeper, and it was clear that the road ahead would only test them further.

---

The group moved through the dense, overgrown forest on the far side of the river, exhaustion etched into every face. As the afternoon sun dipped lower, they stumbled upon an old, weather-beaten cabin nestled among the trees. Its roof sagged, and vines crawled up its walls, but it offered shelter, however temporary.

"We rest here," Elias decided, pushing open the creaking door.

Inside, the cabin was sparse and dusty, with remnants of a life long abandoned—rusted cookware, faded photographs, and broken furniture. Leah set Hope down on a makeshift bed of blankets she'd scavenged earlier, her muscles aching from carrying the baby for hours.

As the others searched the cabin for supplies, Leah's eyes caught a glimmer of metal on the floor. She crouched and picked up a small locket, its chain broken but the charm intact. She opened it with trembling fingers, revealing a faded photo of a smiling couple, their faces frozen in a moment of joy that felt alien in this world.

A memory surfaced—her own family before the collapse. Her mother's laughter, her father's steady hands as he fixed a broken toy, and her sister's mischievous grin. The weight of what she had lost pressed down on her, and tears pricked her eyes.

"Leah?" Jonah's voice brought her back. He stood in the doorway, his expression soft. "You okay?"

She quickly wiped her eyes and pocketed the locket. "Yeah. Just… tired."

Jonah didn't press, but his gaze lingered before he turned to leave. Leah took a deep breath and looked down at Hope, who stirred in her sleep. Protecting her wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about preserving the last shred of humanity Leah still believed in.

---

As dusk settled, the group sat around a small fire Jonah managed to coax to life in the cabin's fireplace. The air was thick with fatigue and unspoken tensions when a faint sound reached their ears.

A soft, human-like cry echoed through the trees, barely audible over the crackling fire. The group froze, their eyes darting toward the cabin's broken windows.

"Did you hear that?" Maren whispered, her hand instinctively going to her knife.

Elias nodded, already on his feet. "Stay here. I'll check it out."

"No way," Jonah said, grabbing his weapon. "You're not going alone."

Despite their fears, curiosity and caution drove them outside, with Leah reluctantly joining, Hope securely in her arms. They followed the sound, their steps careful and deliberate, until they found the source—a young boy, no older than nine, huddled under a bush. His clothes were torn, and his face was streaked with dirt and tears.

The boy flinched as the group approached, his wide eyes darting between them. "Please… don't hurt me," he whimpered.

Leah crouched down, her voice soft and soothing. "We're not going to hurt you. What's your name?"

"Oliver," he stammered. "I ran away. They… they're coming. They'll find me."

"Who's coming?" Jonah asked too sharply, but the boy only shook his head, too frightened to answer.

Maren crossed her arms, her expression hard. "This is a trap. He's bait. We need to leave—now."

Leah shot her a glare. "He's just a child."

"And children can be used," Maren snapped. "You're so eager to save everyone, Leah, but at what cost? Are you willing to risk all of our lives?"

"Enough!" Elias interrupted, his tone final. "We take him with us. We'll keep watch tonight, but we're not leaving him here to die."

Maren muttered under her breath but didn't argue further. Leah extended her hand to the boy, who hesitated before taking it. As they made their way back to the cabin, Leah couldn't help but feel the weight of Maren's words. Trust was a dangerous thing in this world.

---

Back at the cabin, the group debated what to do with Oliver.

"We can't take him with us," Maren said firmly. "He's a liability, and we don't even know if his story is true."

Leah bristled. "You don't leave a child behind. He's scared and alone. Would you just abandon him?"

"I'd do what's necessary to survive," Maren shot back. "Something you seem to struggle with."

"Enough," Elias said, his patience fraying. "We're keeping him for now. He's not a threat, and we can't afford to let fear dictate every decision."

Maren threw her hands up in exasperation, but she didn't argue further. Leah glanced at Oliver, who sat quietly by the fire, his small frame trembling.

As the group settled in for the night, the tension was palpable. Leah stayed close to Hope and Oliver, her protective instincts on high alert.

The cabin had fallen into an uneasy silence, broken only by the occasional creak of wood and the soft sigh of the wind outside. Leah sat near the fire, trying to focus on keeping Hope warm, but her eyes kept flicking toward Oliver, who had curled into himself in the corner. His arms were wrapped tightly around his knees, and he was trembling—whether from fear or the cold, she wasn't sure.

Jonah leaned against the doorframe, his weapon resting loosely in his hands. His body was still, but his eyes scanned the darkness outside, searching for any hint of movement.

"You should talk to him," Leah whispered, nodding toward Oliver. "He's scared."

Jonah's expression didn't soften. "We're all scared," he muttered. "But talking won't change what's out there."

Elias moved closer to the fire, his face grim. "Jonah's right. Whatever's out there is watching us. Waiting. We need to be ready for when they make their move."

Maren sat sharpening her knife, the sound grating against Leah's nerves. "They're cowards," she said, her voice cold. "If they were going to attack, they'd have done it by now."

Leah wasn't so sure. She had seen the way Oliver flinched at every sound, the way his eyes darted toward the windows as if expecting something—or someone—to burst through at any moment.

She leaned closer to the boy, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "Do you know who they are?"

Oliver hesitated, his gaze darting to the others before settling on Leah. "They're... they're scavengers," he whispered. "They take people. Hurt them. Sometimes worse."

Leah's stomach turned. She had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed made her blood run cold. "Why are they after you?"

The boy swallowed hard. "I saw them. I was hiding in the woods, and I saw what they did to a family. They didn't like that I got away."

Before Leah could respond, a sound cut through the air—a sharp, deliberate knock on the door.

The knock echoed through the cabin like a gunshot, freezing everyone in place. Jonah tightened his grip on his weapon, motioning for silence. Leah's heart pounded as she pulled Oliver closer, shielding him with her body.

"Who's there?" Elias called out, his voice steady but firm.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a low, gravelly voice answered, "We know you're in there. Give us the boy, and we'll let the rest of you go."

Oliver's breath hitched, and Leah wrapped an arm around him. "Don't listen to them," she whispered.

Jonah stepped closer to the door, his weapon raised. "You're not getting anything from us. Leave now, and we won't come after you."

A low chuckle came from the other side of the door. "Brave words," the voice sneered. "We'll see how brave you are when we come inside."

The sound of retreating footsteps followed, but no one relaxed. Maren's hand tightened around her knife, her eyes scanning the room. "That was a warning," she said. "They'll be back, and they'll bring more."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than a loud crash came from the back of the cabin. The flimsy wall gave way under the force of an improvised battering ram, and figures poured into the room. Their faces were hidden beneath crude masks, and their weapons were as makeshift as their armor—clubs, knives, and jagged pieces of metal.

"Get down!" Jonah shouted, firing his weapon.

The room erupted into chaos. Elias and Maren moved quickly, engaging the attackers with practiced efficiency. Leah pressed Oliver and Hope into the corner, her mind racing as she tried to think of a way to protect them.

One of the scavengers lunged toward her, his eyes wild with desperation. Leah grabbed a broken plank from the floor and swung it with all her strength, catching him in the side of the head. He stumbled but didn't fall, and panic surged through her as he raised his weapon.

Jonah appeared out of nowhere, slamming the scavenger against the wall and dispatching him with a single shot. "Move!" he barked, grabbing Leah's arm.

Elias's voice rang out above the chaos. "Everyone, to the river! Go!"

Leah hesitated, torn between staying to help and getting the children to safety. Jonah made the decision for her, shoving her toward the door. "I'll cover you. Just go!"

Outside, the night was alive with sound—shouts, gunfire, and the heavy thud of feet pounding against the ground. Leah ran as fast as she could, clutching Hope to her chest while Oliver struggled to keep up. Jonah stayed close behind them, his weapon firing steadily to keep the scavengers at bay.

When they reached the river, Elias turned to face the group. "We hold them here," he said, his voice sharp and commanding. "Leah, Jonah—get the kids across. Now!"

Leah hesitated, her heart wrenching as she looked back at Elias and Maren. "You can't stay here," she said. "There's too many of them."

Elias's expression softened, just for a moment. "We'll catch up," he promised. "But you have to go now."

The river crossing was treacherous. The planks were slick with moisture, and the rushing water below seemed to roar louder with every step. Leah kept her focus on Hope, whispering reassurances even as her own fear threatened to overwhelm her.

Behind them, the sounds of fighting grew fainter, but Leah's chest tightened with every passing moment. When they finally reached the other side, she turned to look back, her heart pounding.

Elias and Maren were nowhere to be seen.

Would they make it out alive?