Weeks had passed, and the fortress had become more than just a shelter—it was a thriving sanctuary. The teens were growing stronger under Marcus's relentless training. They learned how to handle knives, how to move stealthily, and how to shoot a gun without flinching. Sweat dripped from their brows as they sparred with each other, training tirelessly to ensure their survival.
Meanwhile, the nuns worked alongside Marcus's mother and sister, tending to the farm. They watered the crops, fed the livestock, and harvested vegetables. The once-strangers had now become a family, each playing their part in maintaining the fortress.
Dean, however, had a different task that day. He stood near the helipad, running diagnostics on the helicopter with Marcus's father. The older man wiped his hands on a rag, observing the aircraft with a knowing eye.
"You know, son," Robert says, "we can't just let this beauty sit around. Machines need to move. If we leave it be, the parts could rust, and it won't be as reliable when we actually need it."
Dean chuckled. "You just wanna fly, don't you?"
The older man laughed. "Well, I won't deny it. Been a while since I last flew."
Dean leaned against the chopper and crossed his arms. "Wait… You flew planes, right?"
Marcus's father nodded. "Yeah, a commercial pilot. But a helicopter is a bit different. I can try, but don't expect me to be a hundred percent at it."
Dean smirked. "Good enough."
Within minutes, Dean, Marcus, and his father were inside the helicopter, strapping in. Marcus's father took the controls, adjusting himself in the pilot's seat. The engine roared to life, the blades chopping through the air.
The takeoff was wobbly, the helicopter shaking a bit as Marcus's father got a feel for the controls. Dean held onto the side, watching him carefully. "Steady," he murmured.
Slowly, the helicopter lifted, swaying slightly before stabilizing in the sky. They were up.
Their first stop was to survey the boundary of the fortress. From above, Dean could see how well they had fortified their land. The walls, the solar panels, the crops—it was their own self-sustaining world.
Then, they moved further, heading toward the city. As they soared over the mountains and forests, Dean could already see the destruction below. Smoke still rose from burning buildings. The streets were overrun with zombies, some clawing at locked doors, others aimlessly wandering. But what disturbed Dean the most was not the undead.
Survivors.
They were killing each other over supplies. Dean watched a group of armed men execute another group, taking whatever rations they had. Looters were breaking into stores, fighting among themselves like wild animals. The world had truly descended into chaos.
Marcus exhaled. "It's worse than before."
Dean nodded. "Yeah… The world's gone to shit."
He pulled out his telescope and scanned the ruins. Amid the destruction, one building caught his eye—it was still standing, relatively intact. A hospital. He lowered the telescope and turned to Robert. "Take us to that hospital. There's a helipad on the roof. Let's take a break there."
The helicopter descended, landing smoothly on the rooftop. The three of them stepped out, stretching their legs. Dean pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. Marcus did the same, while his father simply leaned against the chopper.
Then suddenly—
Bzzt… Bzzt…
The radio inside the helicopter crackled to life. Dean furrowed his brows, quickly moving back inside and picking up the receiver. "Who's this?"
A frantic voice came through. "H-Hello? This is the WZBX radio station! We need help! There's a senator here with us, and we have supplies, but we can't get out! Zombies have us completely surrounded! Please, if you have a helicopter, you can save us! In exchange, we have food, ammo, and… other things for your enjoyment."
Dean's hand clenched around the receiver. His cigarette hung loosely between his lips as his jaw tightened. He knew exactly what they meant by 'other things for your enjoyment.' He had seen what powerful men did when the world went to hell.
He took a deep breath, then spoke, his voice low and sharp. "Who's the senator?"
There was a brief pause before the survivor on the radio responded. "Uh… Senator Thomas Holloway."
Dean's entire body went rigid. His grip on the receiver tightened so hard it nearly cracked. His teeth gritted together in pure rage.
"So that's where you are, huh?" he muttered under his breath.
Marcus noticed his reaction and stepped forward. "Dean? You know this guy?"
Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Yeah… I know him."
And if there was one person in this world he wouldn't mind leaving to die, it was Senator Thomas Holloway.