Chapter 539: Rescued & Kindly Robbed

Chapter 539: Rescued & Kindly Robbed

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Inside the warehouse, a group of employees who had been working during the outbreak found themselves trapped, along with their families who thought taking refuge in a food-filled warehouse was a sensible idea. The large hordes of zombies roaming around the building made escape impossible, leaving them locked inside.

However, despite being confined for a few days, the food supplies were vast, and they hadn't made the tiniest dent in the rows and stacks of boxes. The warehouse held the potential for survival, especially with an abundance of bottled water that could last them for at least a year.

Hope lingered among the group as they clung to the belief that the military, police, or some government agency would eventually come to their rescue. This hope manifested in a sign taped to the side of the building's roof, a desperate plea for help, expecting their saviors to arrive promptly upon seeing the message.

As they sat, awaiting rescue just like every other day, the sudden sound of gunfire echoed through the air outside. Rushing to the windows, they anticipated the arrival of the authorities to clear out the infected. To their shock, what unfolded before their eyes was far from expected.

A lone man, wielding a sword with deadly precision, dashed between the zombie hordes outside. He moved with unparalleled speed, decapitating the infected effortlessly. Each swing of his sword cut through packed groups, leaving a trail of severed heads and blood. The people trapped inside the warehouse watched in awe, questioning if this was a divine intervention.

The sound of gunfire accompanied the sword-wielding savior. On top of two eighteen-wheeler trucks nearby, a group of three individuals armed with assault rifles unleashed a barrage of bullets upon the infected. The synchronized gunfire picked off zombies one by one, keeping a distance from the sword-wielding hero, as they didn't want to accidentally shoot him.

The trapped survivors, filled with a mixture of shock and awe, witnessed the unknown group of four swiftly clearing the area of infected. It became evident that these strangers were their unexpected saviors, a stark contrast to the anticipated arrival of government forces.

As the last of the zombies fell to the ground, the sword-wielding man approached the entrance of the warehouse, which they rushed to open for him. He sheathed his sword and gave a reassuring nod to those inside.

Peter waved casually. "Yo, we saw your sign."

The survivors hesitated for a moment, still processing the surreal turn of events. Slowly, they began to realize that their salvation had come not from the government, but from a seemingly unstoppable force led by a man of extraordinary skill.

One of the survivors, a man with a grizzled beard and a worn-out baseball cap, finally spoke up. "Who... who are you?"

"I'm Peter." The man with the sword, now identified as Peter, offered a confident smile. "We're here to help. We'll get you out of here and back to safety. We have a camp in the nearby town that's protected by a group of military guys. If you want, you can join."

And that was more than enough to win them over. They had been waiting for the military to show up, and although they didn't, they were at least a nearby.

With a newfound sense of hope and gratitude, the trapped survivors hurriedly began voicing their agreement. After all, where else were they supposed to go?

...

The trucks pulled into the hospital's parking lot one by one. It was a tight fit, but the soldiers directed each vehicle efficiently, creating an organized chaos as they maneuvered through the limited space. The gates were promptly closed behind them, sealing the hospital grounds.

A collective sigh of relief echoed among the civilians, soldiers, patients, and hospital staff as the trucks were unloaded. The sight of the food supplies being pulled out brought smiles to their faces. Some couldn't help but shed tears, realizing that the arrival of Peter and his group ensured they wouldn't face starvation in the coming days.

Meanwhile, the rescued civilians disembarked from the trucks, their expressions not mirroring the joy of the hospital inhabitants. The journey had peeled away the veil of ignorance that had shrouded them within the warehouse.

The reality outside was a harsh slap to the face... barren roads, scattered cars, and streets teeming with the undead. The once-idealized vision of a military camp as a haven clashed with the grim reality of barricades and sandbags around a lone hospital.

As they surveyed their surroundings, the civilians couldn't help but feel as though they expected more, perhaps a larger military presence or a bigger, more fortified camp.

The disappointment lingered, even though they acknowledged the improvement compared to the warehouse. At least they now had protection.

But of course, this new protection came at a cost, a loss of control and ownership over their food. Yet, there was solace in the fact that Peter, the man who had proven his capability, was now their protector alongside the many military men and woman.

Throughout the night, soldiers worked tirelessly to store the newly acquired food in the hospital's facilities. Meanwhile, a makeshift celebration unfolded. Fires were lit outside the hospital, and a large communal meal was prepared, bringing a sense of unity and gratitude among the hospital staff, patients, soldiers, and the recently arrived survivors.

As laughter and conversation filled the air, Peter found a moment of solitude to reflect on the next task at hand. Fort Benning, a military installation nearby, held the key to solidifying his control over the camp. Tomorrow, he would raid and loot the place dry.

'I hope they have some nice toys for me inside.' Peter thought, imagining his town surrounded by tanks and machine gun mounted hummers. 'They might even have missile launchers...' Though he probably wouldn't ever use them, having some missiles at his disposal would be cool.

But most of all, Peter hoped that there would be more soldiers there, whom he could recruit into his town.

————

After Rick left in search of his family, it didn't take him long to arrive at his house, which was eerily empty compared to how he remembered it. Clothes and other items were scattered around, and a few mangled bodies lay in the otherwise desolate space. Rick's heart sank at the sight, but soon realized that they didn't belong to his family.

With a sense of desperate determination, Rick shook off the initial shock and started searching again. As he combed through the neighborhood, a few doors down, he stumbled upon Morgan Jones and his family, who had been silently hiding from the relentless threat of the undead.

Though the initial interaction with Morgan was marked by a certain guarded hostility, Rick's urgency to find his family prevailed. After explaining his situation, Morgan begrudgingly shared what information he had. Most people had fled to Atlanta, chasing rumors about a camp offering safety. It was a beacon of hope in a world overrun by chaos, but the details were scarce.

Rick absorbed this fragment of information, grateful for even the slightest lead. He didn't overstay his welcome, understanding the tense dynamics between the surviving family and himself. With a nod of gratitude, Rick prepared to leave, setting his sights on Atlanta.

But before he left, Rick gave the family some advice. "There's a military camp over at the hospital. They seem to be taking in survivors. I plan to come back and join them after I find my family, and you should do the same." After that, he turned, hopped in his car, and drove off.

The road stretched ahead, a path fraught with uncertainties and dangers. Yet, Rick pushed forward, fueled by the flickering hope of finding his family amid the ruins of the once-familiar world.

A/N: 2117 words :) Long boy today

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