February 24, 2028 – Midnight
Exhausted but relentless, Alex has one mission left: drag John and Carol out of danger.
He barreled down his neighborhood road, his yawn stretched wide enough to reach his ears. "Haaah. I'm fucking tired. Those brats are gonna pay for screwing with my sleep."
Field ops had taught him how to run on fumes, but that was the Army, where he didn't call the shots. Here? His body just wanted his own bed.
His chest tightened. Anger aside, the thought of losing John or Carol scared him worse than the Parkway. He jabbed John's number. "Pick up, pick up—"
"Alex?" John's voice came through. Relief hit him, then fury. "Goddamn it, John! I told you to stay home! I told you how dangerous it is! Just keep Carol close and stay by the door. I'll be there in one."
"Wait, Al—" He hung up. No backtalk tonight.
Justin Guzman's house stood proud at the end of the block. Three stories, lawn wide enough for a soccer game. More than a dozen cars packed the street. End of the world, and it still looked like prom night. Alex didn't bother finding a space. He swung the SUV onto the grass, headlights blazing at the porch.
"The fuck's your problem, dude?" Tristan Guzman, a college kid and Justin's older brother. Taller, smugger, and arm slung around a girl like he owned the place. Alex had laid Justin out once already: for sniffing around Carol after cheating on her. He didn't think Tristan would be dumb enough to stand in his way tonight.
Alex stepped out, AR still tucked under the seat. "Out of my way. I don't have time." Tristan sneered. "What, you think the uniform makes you—"
Alex's fist shut him up. A clean right hook; Tristan dropped flat, jaw slack. The girl screamed and bolted inside.
Alex exhaled. Too much. Even for a Guzman. But his family came first. Tonight wasn't about pride.
Inside, the air reeked of sweat and beer. Music shook the walls. Teens shouted over each other, cups spilling. A beer pong table groaned under elbows.
Alex's lip curled. High school. Studying and getting his GED at sixteen, his sports and social life were cut short. A Commander's letter of rec to West Point had been his dream, but deployment money became more tempting.
And here these kids were, laughing, stumbling. All were blind to the world collapsing outside. He wanted to drag them by their collars to the Parkway, make them see the blood, hear the screams.
Instead, he scanned for his brother, or his brother's friends. He spotted a familiar face. "Yo. You seen John?" The drunk blinked. "Who?" "My brother."
The kid blinked, then grinned. "Ohhh, John! Guy doesn't shut up about you. You're Alex, right? Nice to meet you. I'm—hic—Desmond."
Alex tapped his sneaker against the sticky floor. "Where is he?"
"Upstairs. Just saw him with a girl." Alex pushed past, "thanks."
Upstairs, John was in the hallway, chatting up a blonde girl. His anger spiked when he saw it wasn't Carol. There was no trace of the family's dark brown hair.
"John!" Alex's voice cracked like a whip. "Where's your sister?" John flinched. "Alex, wait, I can explain—" "Where is she?"
"In the bathroom, okay? And it's not like we came here just for the party—" "Let me guess." Alex's eyes narrowed. "You're warning your little friends. Maybe setting up a plan to meet later."
John sagged, then perked like a dog thrown a bone. "Yeah… exactly! I knew you'd get it, Alex. Better than Mom or Da—"
"Except I don't care. Maybe just call them from home?" John's face collapsed. "They'd never believe me if I didn't show up! I barely believed it myself until I saw the news. And the videos just keep disappearing!"
Alex shook his head. Same damn excuses, just louder. "Not my problem. Get your sister. I won't say it again."
The girl frowned. "Wait… you're his brother? In the Army? So the zombie stuff—it's real?" Alex didn't even look at her. "Yeah. Go home, warn your parents." She wasn't his baggage.
The bathroom door creaked open. Carol stepped out. "Alex!" She darted into his arms. His rage calmed just long enough for him to hug her. "…Let's just go home."
Carol shot John a smug grin. Told you so. John scowled. "But what about Samantha?" Alex bit back a who? Realizing it was John's girlfriend, he replied, "I'll drop her off. Get in the car. I'm too tired for this."
Downstairs, the air had shifted. Tristan was upright again, but only with another teenage boy's support. Justin stood in the middle of the living room like it was his court, football buddies shoulder to shoulder behind him.
"Hey! That's him!" Justin's grin dripped smug. "Alex, I let your siblings in, and this is how you pay me back?"
Alex lifted his palms, steady. "I overreacted. Sorry. So I'll give you something better than an apology—"
Justin cut him off, voice rising for the crowd. "Better than the truth? John's been running his mouth. Soldiers mowing down civilians on the Parkway. Highway of death? You were there, weren't you?"
Phones tilted up, a dozen little red lights stared at Alex. John's gaze sank to the floor.
Alex's left hand held the pepper spray in his pocket. Alex thought about the pistol for a moment before shaking his head. His eyes were steady, but every nerve was alive. "I don't care what you think. We're leaving."
Justin stepped in, blocking the door, shoulders squared. "Not so fast. You trashed my lawn, dropped my brother. That's gonna cost you."
Alex's smile was thin. "Gladly." He pulled out a thick fold of bills, more cash than he'd ever carry pre-outbreak. Guess this is my get-out-of-jail-free card. Not funny, but it kept his hand steady. Ten hundreds snapped sharp in the silence. "This cover it? Not including medical?"
A ripple went through the crowd. His friends' eyes widened; a few almost reached. Justin sneered, playing to them. "We don't need your money." The disappointment behind him was plain. He leaned in, voice lower, meaner. "You'll pay another way."
Carol stepped forward, voice breaking the tension. "Justin, stop. If anyone's to blame, it's me. I came to warn people. Do you really think soldiers just mow down protesters? Why'd they send us home early? Pep rally? Think, Justin."
For a second he faltered, shoulders slumping. But pride dragged him upright. "Carol… I miss you. Us. Can we—"
"Save it," she cut him cold. "We're done. I don't know what I ever saw in you."
Alex smiled. Finally, took her long enough.
One of the football players lunged. Alex turned with him, his shin connecting with the footballer's calf. It was the stumble after that reminded him of his fatigue. Regardless, the boy howled and collapsed.
"Fuck him up!" Justin roared. "Leave the girls."
Half the room surged with Justin in front, others just recording or gawking. For a split second, Alex focused on one kid near the wall who jerked and convulsed. A girl was clutching his arm and pleading for help, terrified.
Alex's grin came too quickly. The convulsing kid wasn't his problem; it was theirs. While the room reeled, he snapped his pepper spray up and carved a burning line across the front of the crowd. Screams shredded the music, hands clawed at eyes. "Run!" he barked, shoving Justin aside and forcing a path through the chaos.
The screams behind them changed. It wasn't just pain now, there was something harsher, guttural. The noises hit too close to the Parkway. He felt the rush again.
John glanced back mid-sprint. "Uh, what was that?" Alex shoved him forward. "Doesn't matter. Keep moving!"
They bolted. Alex hit the remote, SUV lights flashing. "Get in!" Everyone panted, for different reasons. The same rush that hit him on the highway with Morgan came back.
He barked a laugh, too sharp to be funny. "Ha! Got 'em good. Burns like hell, trust me." He didn't add what he suspected, that one of those kids hadn't been screaming from the spray. Adjusting his rearview mirror, he saw the eagerness in his reflection. He pulled back in guilt, shaking his head.
John coughed out a laugh. "Yeah, bro… don't know what I'd do without you." Alex smirked, eyes locked on the road.
"Don't think you're off the hook. I've got a special punishment waiting when we get home. Anyway, Samantha, right? You in Guilderland?"
"Yeah," she said quickly. "Block over from you guys." Alex studied John, who kept his eyes glued out the window. Figures.
They dropped her off. John walked her up. Alex couldn't hear, but he saw the hug, the kiss. "Jealous?" Carol teased. Alex grinned tiredly. "A little. I'm waiting for someone who'll keep me out of trouble."
Back home, their father stood in the doorway, arms folded. No rifle this time. "What were you kids thinking? You worried your brother half to death!"
John and Carol glanced at Alex. He just gave a faint smile. "Don't let them off easy, Dad. I'm going to bed." He listened to his father's voice rising as he headed down the stairs. For once, he enjoyed it. Let them squirm.
The knock rattled the door. Alex froze halfway down the stairs, then climbed back up. His siblings lingered on the landing, wide-eyed. His father gave him a questioning look. Alex nodded, slid the pistol behind his back, and pulled the door open.
The neighbor stood there; it was the same man who'd been watching him last week. "Evening," Alex said evenly. "Hope my tenants didn't cause trouble while I was gone. I'll screen better next time. If there is a next time. Name's Alex."
The man's lips curved upward, eyes narrowing at Alex. "Knight, right? You'll keep things… quiet I hope. Families live here. Kids. Don't want them scared."
"Funny thing," the man added. "Soldier coming home with gear like that… people might start talking. Would be a shame if word got around."
Alex frowned. His hand reached for his pistol as he weighed his options. His father's eyes widened at the sight, and he stepped up beside him.
"Appreciate your concern, but my son urgently needs some rest," he said quickly. "Have a good night," he pushed the door closed before Alex could move. The deadbolt clicked. His father turned, voice low but firm. "You need to watch yourself, son. Don't give him a reason."
Alex didn't answer. He just stared at the door. The words, "soldier coming home with gear" replaying in his head; all the while keeping a firm hand on his pistol.