Chapter 20: Crystal Clear

The sky had already darkened by the time Maarg and Jack returned to the hotel. Their shoes were caked in dirt, sweat clung to their backs like a second skin, and their expressions were unreadable as they entered the middle floor they called home.

Sammy had just finished bracing the last of the windows with scavenged wood and pipe fittings. The barricades stood solid, a testament to her relentless focus. She turned around, brushing her hands on her pants. "You two took your sweet time. Get stuck in another store full of shampoo?"

Jack let out a small breath, half a laugh. "We found a cafe."

That caught her attention.

"A cafe?" she repeated, eyebrows raised.

Maarg nodded, dropping his bag by the door. "Not just any cafe. Blue Angel. It's still standing."

Sammy looked confused. "You found a building named after a sad jazz bar and decided to take a tour?"

"We didn't just find the building," Jack said, flopping onto a couch, "we found the owner."

"He's alive?" she asked, walking closer.

"Yeah," Maarg said. "White-haired guy. Frail-looking. Tall. Name's Gustavo Cappuccino. Claims he used to run the place."

Maarg sat on the edge of the table, brushing dust from his knees. "He saw us getting chased by a horde. Signaled us to come into the cafe. Locked the doors behind us, gave us coffee, helped us calm down. No threats, no questions, no strings."

Sammy folded her arms. "That's… weirdly kind."

Maarg nodded slowly. "He said, 'What goes around comes around.' Just wanted to do something good in the middle of all this shit."

Sammy stared for a moment, not sure what to say. Then Jack reached into the bag and gently placed a small box onto the table—crushed coffee beans, carefully wrapped.

"He gave us this when we were leaving," he said. "Said he wished we could stay. That it gets lonely there."

The three of them stared at the box for a few quiet seconds.

Sammy sighed and sat down across from them. "Okay, so you made a friend. But that doesn't explain why you two came back looking like you saw a ghost."

Jack exchanged a glance with Maarg.

"We did meet someone else," Maarg said finally. "On the way back."

Sammy raised an eyebrow. "Another old barista?"

"No," Jack muttered. "A cop."

"Former cop," Maarg corrected. "His name's Henry. We found him—literally clinging to a freaking electric tower while a group of zombies stared up at him like kids watching a clown."

Sammy blinked. "That… actually sounds kind of hilarious."

"It was," Jack said. "Right up until we had to kill ten zombies while he screamed for help."

"We saved him," Maarg added. "Felt like the right thing to do."

"What goes around comes around," Sammy said quietly, eyes flicking back to the box on the table.

"Exactly."

"So, what did he want?" she asked warily.

"He said he was on a mission," Maarg explained. "He's working for a guy named Cobra. Apparently runs a group called the Vipers."

The moment he said the word Vipers, Sammy's jaw clenched.

"Let me guess," she said dryly. "They're not a boy band."

Jack snorted. "Definitely not."

Maarg leaned forward. "He pulled out a map. Showed us how the city's carved up—different territories, leaders, risks. One part was marked red. He called it the 'danger zone.' Said it's filled with bandits, zombies, cannibals… you name it."

"And where's this Cobra guy?" she asked.

Maarg tapped an invisible point on the air. "Far side of the city. Southward. Has a decent setup, apparently. Henry said Cobra's looking for strong people to join him. Wants us to go meet him."

Sammy gave them both a look like they'd grown second heads. "Are you serious? You're considering this?"

Maarg held up a hand. "We haven't agreed to anything. We told him we needed time."

"Good," she snapped. "Because I'm not walking into some thug's compound just because he has a cool name and a damn map."

"He also showed us a photo," Jack said. "Of Cobra's wife. Carla."

Sammy looked between them.

"She was kidnapped," Maarg said. "By the man-eaters."

That wiped the sarcasm off her face in an instant.

"Henry said Cobra sent people after her, but none came back. That's part of the reason he's recruiting. He needs people willing to try."

Sammy's arms fell to her sides. "Jesus…"

"And here's the weird part," Maarg said. "When Henry mentioned Carla, Gustavo reacted. Just a second—like he recognized her. He didn't say much, but after thinking about it, he said we should at least hear Cobra out."

Sammy's expression changed from anger to unease.

"I don't like this," she muttered. "Vipers, man-eaters, kidnapped wives—it all sounds like a bad action movie. We're doing fine here. We have food, water, shelter. Why go looking for trouble?"

Maarg was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Maybe because the world's already broken, and if we can help even one person… And maybe he can help us, it's his wife on the line so he might be willing to give us some real weapons."

Sammy stared at him, then looked at Jack.

"Fine," she said. "You want to hear him out, we'll do that. But I'm going with you. And the moment I smell bullshit, we're leaving. No hero complexes, no 'maybe if we just try' speeches. Clear?"

Jack nodded. "Crystal."

Maarg managed a small smile. "Thanks."

Sammy picked up the box of coffee beans and rolled it between her fingers. "Let's just hope this Cobra guy drinks coffee. Might be the only reason I don't stab him."