The group had dwindled to nine members. Several had died during that day of exploration, forcing Alan to take drastic measures.
Little by little, living in the city had become unsustainable—it was slowly killing the group. Given that, he decided to go back to the original plan: living in a forest near a dam.
This power-generating dam wouldn't just allow them to produce their own electricity—it also meant they'd have unlimited water, something incredibly valuable for meeting their basic needs.
The time would come when he would go alone to a military base and try to help in whatever way he could. But first, they needed a solid base—a place they could settle in, a stronghold that would help them stop depending on the resources they scrounged up day by day.
That's why, the next morning, after packing the modified trucks—tweaked slightly by Joel—as full as possible, everyone took one last shower in the mansion and equipped themselves with the best combat gear they had.
These clothes had been taken from the police station, where there were nothing but corpses left. They salvaged everything useful, even bulletproof shields.
Alan now wore a full SWAT uniform, U.S. military boots, and a bulletproof vest, while Tommy wore military combat gear.
Their various outfits made them look like a diverse team, but they were just survivors like everyone else. The only thing that set them apart from others was that they were a bit more prepared.
Everyone wore gloves that covered their hands, and had reinforced areas like forearms and calves—covering the parts most likely to be bitten—to reduce the chance of infection due to carelessness.
This time, they traveled in trucks—four, to be specific—all filled with supplies they had gathered over the past two days. Their destination was what would become their main shelter: a place that could be the starting point of something much bigger than a group of no more than ten people.
Alan sat in the passenger seat of the first truck, driven by Claire. He held an FN M249 SAW machine gun, ready to tear through hundreds of infected if they crossed paths.
This machine gun was anything but quiet, and in Alan's hands, it could wreak serious havoc.
"Zz… Keep your eyes open. Report anything unusual."
"Understood!"
Alan had promised to go with Carlos and Raj to the hospital once they were settled at the dam, but for now, he couldn't do much with the thousands of infected scattered throughout the city.
No matter how much the world changes, humans are wired to survive even in the worst of situations—and this was no exception.
Humanity would not go extinct; it would only grow stronger and learn from its mistakes. Many countries had risen from the rubble in less than a hundred years, so there was no reason to believe it couldn't happen again.
Maybe this was fate. No social hierarchies, no invisible chains binding people. Just two soldiers, a police officer, and men who had come together to survive.
Claire, who was driving in silence, asked Alan, "Could things be worse in other places?"
"I don't know… but if we haven't received any help, that means other countries are either just as bad off—or worse." Alan didn't believe it was just them—he was sure the whole world was in this situation.
If it weren't, nuclear bombs would have already been launched weeks ago. The absence of such attacks meant this virus was likely a natural product.
The infected along the highway were drawn by the sound of the trucks. In a dead city, the roar of engines was so striking that it left everyone deep in thought as they drove away.
Luckily, the infected couldn't match the trucks' speed.
From the front seat, Alan saw the infected drawn by the sound—running toward them from all directions.
From buildings, parking lots, windows—they poured out from everywhere they'd been hiding. Only now did he truly grasp the challenges soldiers faced trying to contain the infection.
Stopping hordes of infected in crowds of survivors was impossible—unless they killed everyone. Alan figured that some things were just unavoidable.
Claire had taken several alternate routes. Fortunately, they were on the outskirts of the city, and the infected hadn't surrounded them. Otherwise, they would have had to waste bullets and start a fight that wouldn't have worked in their favor.
"There's no way to wipe out those hordes without fuel or heavy weaponry. We'd be useless with just a machete," said Claire, aware of how important weapons were and what they were meant for.
"Yeah, but they'll also be useful to defend ourselves from other humans," thought Alan, who knew it was only a matter of time before they were dragged into conflicts with others.
Since the road outside the city was packed with abandoned vehicles, they had to take detours—driving over sidewalks before continuing on.
Normally, it would take about three hours to reach the dam, but nearly four hours had passed since they'd left the mansion, and they were still only halfway there.
That's when they stopped at what looked like an abandoned gas station and decided to take a break.
"Zz… Let's search for fuel—but first, clear the area."
"Zz… Half stay with the vehicles, the other half with me."
Tommy stayed behind with the trucks—his excellent vision and sniper skills made him the best choice for a lookout. Alan was accompanied by Claire and Joel, who were more than capable.
After an initial search, aside from some canned food and entire boxes of cigarettes, they didn't find much else. But there was plenty of fuel, so they used a medium-sized tanker truck that had been abandoned.
It seemed the driver had left everything intact when the outbreak began. So now, three trucks and a tanker continued on their journey.