7:30 a.m.

  For the first time in days, Dana had slept deeply. Real sleep, not the fitful dozing they'd managed in the tunnels, constantly listening for threats. Her stomach was full of actual food, her thirst was quenched with clean water, and despite her instincts screaming that someone should stay awake to keep watch, exhaustion had finally claimed her. She'd tried to maintain vigilance, tried to stay alert while the others rested, but her body had betrayed her need for control and dragged her into unconsciousness. When she woke, all four of them were still safe, still breathing, still together. It felt like a small miracle.

  The smell of meat soup drifted across the visitor platform like a promise of sustenance in a world that had forgotten abundance. Dana sat hunched against the concrete wall in the cramped space she shared with Jake, Tommy, and Eli, cradling what had once been a beer can, cut open at the top and filled with dark broth. The makeshift bowl was still warm enough to sting her fingers. Around her, the crowded visitor area buzzed with the sounds of too many people in too small a space. Hushed conversations, the rustle of dirty blankets and salvaged cardboard, the scrape of metal containers against stone.

  The four of them had claimed a corner near the platform edge, their few possessions piled together on a collection of flattened cardboard boxes and torn fabric that served as bedding. It wasn't comfortable, but it was better than sleeping on bare concrete. It still felt surreal. After five days of hunger and thirst, of watching friends die and enemies hunt them through endless darkness, the simple act of eating hot food felt like a miracle she didn't trust.

  Jake sat beside her, staring into his improvised bowl, with the expression of a man trying to solve a puzzle. Tommy hunched over his own makeshift cup, eating with the mechanical efficiency of someone making up for lost time. Eli picked at his food from a dented aluminum can, still weak from the infection's lingering effects, but his eyes held something Dana hadn't seen in days: joy.

  Across the platform, Dana could see the difference between visitors and members. Vincent's people ate from proper bowls and cups, clean and matched. The visitors made do with whatever containers could be found or fashioned. Soda cans, plastic containers, even folded pieces of metal that had been hammered into crude shapes. It was organized scavenging at its finest, every piece of refuse turned into something useful.

  "So," Dana said, breaking the comfortable silence. "What's everyone thinking for today?"

  Eli looked up first, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I want to help Nathan with the medical work in the train car." His voice carried genuine enthusiasm. "There's so much I could do. Basic first aid, patient care. It will feel good to help people."

  "You sure about that?" Tommy asked, pausing mid-spoonful. "Some of those people in there... they're pretty far gone. The sounds they make at night..." He shuddered slightly.

  "That's exactly why they need help," Eli replied, his voice gaining strength. "Nathan told me yesterday that they need strong people to handle the job." He shrugged.

  Dana studied him with new respect. The kid had an inner steel she hadn't fully appreciated before. "Good for you," she said simply.

  Tommy nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Lila asked if I wanted to help with food service. Serving meals, cleaning equipment, maintaining the cooking fires." He gestured toward the organized bustle around the food preparation area. "It's simple work, and she's... she's kind."

  "If she will teach you how to make this amazing soup then feel free to share the secret with me," Jake asked, raising his makeshift container with appreciation.

  "What about you, Jake?" Eli asked, trying to redirect the conversation. "Any ideas?"

  Jake looked up, his expression troubled. "I don't know yet. There are a couple of options I'm considering, but..." He shrugged, the gesture carrying the weight of uncertainty. "But I need to look around the camp more and figure out where I might actually be useful instead of just taking up space."

  Dana understood. Jake had spent years conducting trains, responsible for passengers, making decisions for the benefit of other people. Now he had to find his own path and make sure he could be appreciated.

  "You'll find your place," she said. "Hell, with your organizational skills, they'd be lucky to have you in logistics."

  "Maybe." Jake's voice was noncommittal, but Dana caught the flicker of interest in his eyes.

  "What about you?" Eli asked, turning to Dana. "Any ideas?"

  Dana's smile was sharp, predatory. "I want to join the hunting team."

  The response was immediate. Tommy's eyes widened with something between admiration and concern. Jake frowned, clearly worried about the dangers involved. Eli just nodded, as if he'd expected nothing less.

  "Of course you do," Jake muttered. "Jesus, Dana, we just got to safety. You want to go back out there and get yourself killed?"

  "They need people who can handle themselves in the tunnels," Dana replied, her tone matter-of-fact.

  "It's dangerous work," Eli said quietly, "Lila said they've lost a lot of people already."

  "Everything's dangerous now," Dana replied. "At least this way, I'm contributing something."

  What she didn't say, what she couldn't quite articulate even to herself, was how much she needed this. The structure, the purpose, the familiar weight of responsibility. She'd spent too many hours in the past few days feeling helpless, reactive, following other people's plans. The idea of going back on the offensive, of hunting instead of being hunted, called to something deep in her chest.

  She finished her soup and stood, brushing dust from her clothes. "I'm going to go ask about it now, before the teams head out.

  Movement across the platform caught her attention. A small group of people had gathered near the member area, their posture different from the usual bustle of daily activity. They stood with heads bowed, perfectly still, as a figure moved among them. Dana couldn't see clearly from this distance, but there was something about the way the crowd arranged itself, reverential, almost ritualistic, that made her pause.

  "Is that...?" she started to ask, but Jake followed her gaze and nodded.

  "It looks like Vincent, yes" he said quietly. "People just... stop what they're doing when he appears."

  "Weird," Tommy muttered, having followed their gaze. "It's like watching people meet the Pope or something."

  Dana watched, fascinated despite herself. The figure at the center of the gathering was unremarkable from this distance, average height, simple clothes, but the effect he had on those around him was unmistakable. Tommy was right, people didn't just show respect, they showed veneration.

  8:15 a.m.

  Dana approached the food service area where she'd seen the apostles coordinating the morning meal. A middle-aged woman with graying hair and kind eyes was directing the cleanup, her movements efficient and purposeful. She wore practical clothes, faded jeans, work boots, a sweater that had seen better days, but carried herself with the quiet authority of someone accustomed to being listened to.

  "Excuse me," Dana said. "I wanted to ask about joining one of the work teams."

  The woman looked up, her expression neutral but not unfriendly. "I'm Rebecca. You're Dana, right? From the group that arrived yesterday?"

  "That's right."

  Rebecca's eyes traveled over Dana's face, taking in the set of her jaw, the way she held her shoulders, the confident directness of her gaze. "What kind of work were you thinking about?"

  "The hunting team. I want to join Jarret's hunting team." Dana replied.

  Rebecca's eyebrows rose slightly. "Hunting is dangerous work. We've lost good people who thought they were ready for what's out there."

  "I understand the risks."

  "Do you really?" Rebecca's voice took on a sharper edge. "Have you ever killed someone, Dana?"

  The question hung in the air between them. Dana felt the weight of memory pressing against her ribs.

  "Yes," she said quietly.

  Rebecca studied her for a long moment, taking in Dana's steady gaze, her confident posture, the way she held herself like someone accustomed to violence. The way she'd answered without hesitation or bravado, just simple acknowledgment of a terrible truth.

  Finally, Rebecca nodded.

  "I'll speak to Jarret. But understand, newcomers don't get weapons right away. You'll follow the team, observe their methods, learn their procedures. If Jarret approves of your performance, you'll be considered for full membership." Her tone grew more serious. "This isn't charity. We can't afford dead weight, especially not in the field."

  "I wouldn't expect anything less."

  Rebecca's smile was genuine now. "Good. Be ready in thirty minutes. They're heading out soon."

  8:45 a.m.

  Dana followed the hunting team into the tunnels, her borrowed flashlight cutting through the darkness ahead. Seven figures moved in practiced formation. Jarret in the lead, six others spread out in tactical positions that spoke of military training or hard-earned experience.

  "Today's sweep covers the abandoned section between 14th and 18th," Jarret said as they walked, his voice pitched low but carrying clearly in the enclosed space. "We go in quietly, find the nest and harvest what we can."

  The team leader was everything Nathan had described: mid-thirties, built like a steel beam, with the kind of quiet charisma that made people want to follow him into hell. His dark hair was cropped short, practical rather than stylish, and his face bore the weathered look of someone who'd spent years making life-and-death decisions. His voice was calm and measured as he explained their route, his commands clear and unambiguous. This wasn't a man who tolerated confusion or hesitation.

  Behind him moved a collection of survivors who had found their purpose in violence. Dana analysed the types. Former military, security guards, maybe a cop or two. Men and women who understood that survival sometimes required taking life, and who had made their peace with that reality.

  There was Stevens, a wiry man in his forties who moved with the fluid grace of someone completely comfortable with violence. His clothes were practical, dark cargo pants, steel-toed boots, a jacket with multiple pockets for equipment. A long knife hung from his belt, the blade polished to a mirror shine.

  Rodriguez covered their rear, her movements economical and professional. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, but her eyes held the hardness of someone who'd aged decades in days. Her rifle was slung across her back with the casual familiarity of someone who'd learned to treat weapons as tools rather than objects of fear.

  And there, near the back of the formation, was Reese.

  The sight of him hit Dana with confusion. Not because of his presence, she'd known he was here, known he'd found a place on the team. But because of how different he looked.

  Gone was the swagger, the smirking arrogance that had defined him since the moment they'd met. This version of Reese moved with careful precision, his attention focused entirely on the task at hand. His clothes were clean, his equipment properly maintained, his posture alert but not tense. When Jarret gave orders, Reese followed them without question or comment. When the team shifted formation, he adjusted his position seamlessly.

  He saw her watching and their eyes met for a brief moment. But instead of the usual sneer or challenging stare, he simply looked away, his expression unreadable.

  "First time on a hunt?" asked Stevens, falling into step beside Dana.

  "First time with this team," Dana replied carefully.

  Stevens nodded approvingly. "You have experience with weapons?"

  "Some of them, yes." Dana said, nodding her head.

  "What was your line of work before... before all this madness?" Stevens asked, his tone conversational but assessing.

  "Juvenile Probation Officer," Dana replied. "Worked with kids in the justice system."

  Stevens raised his eyebrows with genuine respect. "That's tough work. Probably better preparation for this than most people realize."

  "Something like that," Dana said. "Turns out a lot of those skills transfer."

  Stevens grinned, but it wasn't entirely friendly. "Question is, can you do more than just watch when the fights happen?"

  Before Dana could respond, Jarret raised his hand. The team came to an immediate stop, weapons ready, bodies tense with anticipation.

  "Movement ahead," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Multiple contacts."

  In the distance, Dana could hear it, the skittering, squeaking sounds that had become the soundtrack of their underground existence. But there was something different about these sounds. More organized, more purposeful.

  "Approach carefully," Jarret said, his voice carrying that absolute authority that brooked no argument. "Firearms first to scatter the swarm, then close-quarters weapons to finish them off. Stevens, you take point with Reese. Martinez, watch our flanks. Thompson, you're on overwatch."

  Dana watched in fascination as the team moved with choreographed precision. These weren't desperate survivors flailing in the dark, they were hunters, people who had turned the nightmare of the tunnels into a craft.

  "Stay close," Jarret murmured to Dana. "Observe everything. When this kicks off, it's going to be fast and ugly."

  The team advanced around a bend in the tunnel, and Dana got her first clear look at their targets.

  The nest was bigger than anything she'd seen before. Two dozen rats, maybe more, all clustered around what looked like a makeshift warren constructed from debris, torn clothing, and what might have been human remains. The creatures were massive, easily the size of dogs, with matted fur and eyes that reflected their flashlight beams like mirrors.

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  But it was their behavior that made Dana's skin crawl. These weren't the panicked, desperate scavenger they'd encountered before. These rats moved with purpose, with organization. Some stood sentinel while others fed. A few seemed to be tending to smaller rats, offspring, perhaps, or wounded members of their pack.

  The first volley of gunfire erupted with controlled precision. Three rifles spoke in near-unison, their muzzle flashes lighting up the tunnel like strobes. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space, a thunderclap that sent dust raining from the ceiling.

  The effect on the rat swarm was immediate and chaotic. Several of the largest rats fell instantly, their bodies jerking and twitching in the harsh light of the team's flashlights. The others scattered with high-pitched squeals of terror and rage, diving for cover among the tunnel debris.

  But they didn't flee.

  Instead, they regrouped with frightening speed, circling the hunting team like a pack of wolves. Dana could see intelligence in their movements, not just animal instinct, but genuine tactical thinking.

  "Switch to blades," Jarret ordered. "Conserve ammunition."

  Dana watched the transformation with professional appreciation. In seconds, assault rifles disappeared and knives emerged, some military made, others improvised from scavenged metal, all of them wickedly sharp. The team advanced into the chaos with methodical brutality, hunting down the surviving rats with cold efficiency.

  Stevens moved like poetry in motion, his blade finding gaps in the rats' defenses with surgical precision. Rodriguez used her combat knife in combination with a steel baton, stunning her targets before delivering killing blows. Even Reese, Dana noticed, had developed a fluid fighting style that emphasized speed and efficiency over brute force.

  One rat, larger than the others and bearing scars that spoke of previous battle, launched itself directly at Dana. Her body moved before her mind could process the threat, a swift sidestep that sent the creature sailing past her, followed by a vicious kick that sent it crashing into the tunnel wall.

  The rat recovered quickly, spinning to face her with bared teeth and blazing eyes. But Dana was already moving, pulling her knife and meeting the creature's next attack with lethal precision transpercing one of his eyes with fury.

  The fight lasted three seconds. When it was over, the rat lay still at her feet, blood pooling around its massive head.

  "Not bad," Stevens called out, his own opponents defeated. "Could use some work on your footwork, but the instincts are there."

  Dana looked around the tunnel. Twelve rat carcasses lay scattered across the floor, their blood mixing with the dust and debris. The team worked in practiced silence, gathering the bodies and preparing them for transport. No celebration, no congratulations, just the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.

  "Clean harvest," Jarret announced, surveying their work.

  He turned to Dana, his expression unreadable. "You did well. Stayed calm, didn't freeze up, and actually contributed to the fight." He paused. "But this was small-scale training. Rat hunting is just practice for the real work. Our actual targets are the bastard gunmen." His voice grew harder. "If the thought of facing trained killers scares you, then you need to give up now. Because that's where this leads."

  12:30 p.m.

  The team had stopped for a quick meal in an abandoned maintenance alcove, sharing energy bars and bottled water while Jarret consulted a hand-drawn map of the tunnel system. It was during this break that Dana learned more about her new teammates.

  "Insurance adjuster," Rodriguez said when Dana asked them about their previous work. "I spent most of my time in office buildings, filing claims reports. Never touched a gun until all this started."

  "I worked in retail management," said Martinez, unwrapping what looked like a granola bar. "The closest I got to violence was breaking up fights between customers over the last bag of toilet paper during covid."

  Stevens, the man who moved like a professional killer, laughed at their surprised expressions. "What, you think we were all Navy SEALs before this? I was a semi-pro paintball player but that's it. There isn't one here with any real combat training."

  She glanced toward Reese, who was sitting apart from the group, methodically cleaning his knife.

  "Well, he doesn't talk much about his background so far." Thompson said. She was a quiet woman in her thirties. "Believe it or not I am a librarian. I spent my days helping people find books and handling the occasional bookworm who got too emotional when we received a new release." She smiled grimly. "Turns out those apocalyptic survival books transfer pretty well to reality."

  Dana found herself out of words. If the team was full of regular civilians then at least the leader needed to be the one with true experience here. She looked at Jarret with expecting eyes. "What about you? What did you do before?"

  "High school gym teacher," Jarret replied without embarrassment. "Basketball coach, too. Turns out keeping teenage boys in line translates well to keeping a hunting team focused."

  The revelation was both humbling and inspiring. These weren't professional soldiers or hardened mercenaries. They were ordinary people who had found purpose and structure in the chaos, who had learned to work together and trust each other when everything else fell apart.

  Reese remained silent throughout the conversation, offering nothing about his past or his thoughts. Even when Thompson tried to include him, he simply shook his head and went back to his equipment maintenance.

  4:45 p.m.

  By the time they made it back to camp, the afternoon shift change was already underway. Dana walked beside Jarret, drawn by his calm competence and the obvious respect he commanded from his team. She'd worked with authority figures before, dealing with judges and parole officers and social workers who held young lives in their hands. Jarret had that same quality, the ability to make decisions quickly and stick by them, to inspire confidence even in desperate circumstances.

  "You did well today," he said without looking at her. "Didn't flinch when things got messy. That's rarer than you might think."

  "I've seen worse," Dana replied honestly.

  "I'm sure you have." He glanced at her, noting the dried blood crusted around her nose, the dark circles under her eyes, the way she carried herself like someone accustomed to violence. "Rebecca tells me you want to join the team permanently."

  "If you'll have me."

  Jarret stopped walking, turning to face her with an expression that mixed evaluation with something that might have been approval. His team continued past them, giving their leader space for whatever conversation was about to unfold.

  "I'll be honest with you, Dana. I don't make these decisions lightly. We can only depend on each other out here. One weak link, one moment of hesitation, and people die." His voice was matter-of-fact, without malice. "But I recognize potential when I see it."

  "So you're taking me on?"

  "I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself. There's a difference." He resumed walking, and Dana fell into step beside him. "You'll start with probationary status. Three more hunts, supervised, before we make any permanent decisions. And I should mention that Reese vouched for you as well. He said you had the right kind of guts for this work."

  The words hit Dana like a slap. She whirled around, searching for Reese in the group ahead, but he was already disappearing around a bend in the tunnel, his shoulders tense with the obvious desire to avoid this conversation.

  "That bastard," she muttered, her hands clenching into fists. "I don't need his fucking help. I can get on this team on my own merits."

  Jarret's voice cut through her anger like a blade. "Calm down."

  The command was quiet but absolute, carrying the weight of authority that brooked no argument. Dana found herself responding to it automatically, her breathing slowing, her fists unclenching. It was the voice of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.

  "Listen to me carefully," Jarret continued, his tone patient but firm. "I'm not taking you on because of Reese's recommendation. I'm taking you because you spent an entire morning watching us work without once looking away, without once showing fear or disgust. That tells me more about your character than any reference could."

  He paused, making sure his words were sinking in.

  "But Reese is one of my people now. That means whatever history you two have, whatever grievances are between you, they stay at the camp. When we're out here, we're a team. I won't tolerate anything that compromises that unity. Are we clear?"

  Dana wanted to argue, wanted to explain the betrayals and abandonment that made the idea of working alongside Reese feel like swallowing glass. But she also recognized the wisdom in Jarret's words, the practical necessity of putting survival ahead of personal grudges.

  "We're clear," she said finally.

  "Good." Jarret's smile was genuine now, transforming his weathered features. "Welcome to the team, Dana. Try not to get yourself killed."

  As they resumed walking, Dana found herself stealing glances at Reese's back. The man who had abandoned them in the tunnels, was now apparently vouching for her inclusion in his new group. The contradiction made her head spin.

  5:30 p.m.

  Back at the camp, Jarret sought out Rebecca to discuss team logistics.

  Rebecca turned her attention to Dana. "How did the hunt go? Any injuries that need attention?"

  "Minor cuts and scrapes," Jarret replied before Dana could answer. "Nothing serious, but I want her to be treated by Vincent as soon as possible to integrate the team permanently."

  Dana felt a flash of irritation at being discussed like she wasn't there, but she also understood the practical reality.

  "Vincent's healing schedule is completely booked for the next three days." Rebecca said, "he's been working almost non-stop, and we have to be careful not to push him too hard. His gift takes a physical toll, and if he exhausts himself..." She spread her hands helplessly. "We can't risk losing our only healer."

  Dana felt a familiar frustration rise in her chest, the sense of being dependent on forces beyond her control. She didn't believe in this powerful Vincent at all, but if there is a small chance of him being really able to heal people..

  "I'll wait, but can he heal Eli first? He has had worse symptoms than me for some time now." Dana said simply.

  "I can put you on the priority list for when he has an opening as hunting team members get preference for obvious reasons."Rebecca offered. "But your friend Eli will have to wait in line as other people need to be treated first."

  "I will appreciate it if you can put him on the priority list instead of me please." Dana said, looking at Rebecca with determined eyes.

  Rebecca looked at her for a moment, then made a note on a clipboard that seemed to be her constant companion. "I will see what I can do. How did the hunt go today?"

  "Well enough I think," Dana replied with a small smile on her face.

  "That's excellent news." Rebecca's expression grew more serious. "But be careful out there, Dana. I would hate to see anything bad happening to you."

  6:30 p.m.

  Dana made her way back to the visitor area, where she found her friends sharing their own experiences of the day. The cramped corner they'd claimed was even more crowded now, with other visitors settling in for the evening meal. The four of them huddled together on their makeshift bedding, their few possessions creating a small barrier between them and the strangers who shared their space.

  Jake sat with his back against a concrete pillar, looking thoughtful but no less uncertain than before. "There are several options," he was saying as Dana approached. "Infrastructure maintenance sounds promising, they need someone to coordinate repairs and improvements. Logistic coordination might be a good fit too, given my experience with crowd management and system procedures."

  "Any of them catch your interest more than the others?" Eli asked.

  "Supply management, actually." Jake's voice gained enthusiasm as he spoke. "They've got a decent system here, but there's room for improvement. A better inventory tracking, more efficient distribution. It's similar to managing passenger loads and scheduling, just with food and water instead of people."

  Tommy looked up from where he'd been cleaning his clothes with a damp rag. "That's perfect for you, Jake. You're great at organizing things."

  "We'll see. I'm meeting with their logistics team later to discuss it further."

  Eli's eyes were bright with excitement as he described his time in the medical car. "Dana, you should have seen it. Vincent actually healed someone while I was there, a woman who'd been bleeding from her eyes for hours. He just... touched her, and the bleeding stopped. Her color came back. It was incredible."

  Dana felt a warning bell ring in the back of her mind, but she kept her expression neutral. There was something about Vincent's abilities that didn't sit right with her. It sounded too convenient, too powerful, too good to be true. But Eli had been through hell, if he found hope and purpose in Vincent's abilities, who was she to take that away?

  "What's Nathan like to work with?" she asked instead.

  "He is super competent. He's got medical training from before all this from medical school." Eli's voice carried genuine respect. "But he's also lucid about what they can and can't do with limited resources."

  "That's valuable knowledge," Dana said.

  Tommy had news that was both revelatory and inevitable, though his expression suggested he'd been dreading this conversation all day.

  "I spent some time in the kitchens," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Lila showed me the whole operation, food preparation, storage, preservation techniques. It's actually pretty sophisticated for a makeshift setup."

  "And?" Jake prompted, sensing there was more.

  Tommy's face darkened slightly, and he set down his makeshift cup. "I found out what we've been eating. The meat in the soup, the protein in our meals." He paused, meeting each of their eyes. "It's the rats. The ones the hunting teams bring back."

  Jake's improvised bowl stopped halfway to his mouth. His face went through a series of expressions, confusion, realization, then revulsion. "Please tell me you're joking."

  "I wish I was." Tommy's voice was steady but sympathetic. "But honestly? After everything we've been through and almost dying of hunger ourselves... I'm just grateful to have food at all. Any food."

  "Jesus Christ," Jake muttered, pushing his container away with visible disgust. " I wish you told me that after dinner at least."

  "Hey," Dana said sharply, leaning forward. "We don't have the luxury of being picky. You can starve on principle if you want, but I'm going to fill my belly while I still can." She took another deliberate sip from her beer can, maintaining eye contact with Jake until he grudgingly pulled his bowl back and resumed eating, though with considerably less enthusiasm.

  "Look at it this way," Tommy added, trying to lighten the mood. "At least we know it's fresh."

  "And speaking of the camp being extra nice to us," Eli said with a grin that seemed genuinely pleased, "you should see how they've been treating me and Tommy. Sarah gave us extra portions today, saying kids need more food to keep their strength up."

  Tommy nodded enthusiastically. "Rebecca spent like twenty minutes asking me about our journey, how we survived, what we've been through. She seemed really interested in our story."

  "Same here," Eli said, still smiling. "They keep asking about how we made it this far, what we saw in the tunnels, who we met. And honestly, I'm not complaining about the special treatment." He laughed. "I used to get bullied for looking so young, people always thinking I was some kid when I'm almost twenty-one. But right now? This baby face is actually working in my favor for once."

  Tommy's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, you're twenty-one? Really?"

  "Well, not quite," Eli said with a chuckle. "Should be in about a week, I think. Hard to keep track of what day it is anymore." He shrugged. "But yeah, the youthful looks are finally paying off instead of being a pain in the ass."

  Dana found herself tuning out of the conversation as warning bells went off in her head. Love bombing. That's what this was. She'd seen it before in her work with troubled kids, the way certain groups and individuals would target vulnerable young people with excessive attention and care, asking seemingly innocent questions while gathering information.

  The apostles weren't just being kind to Eli and Tommy out of genuine concern. They were fishing for information about their group, their journey, their capabilities. Using the boys' youth and hunger for acceptance to extract intelligence about potential threats or resources.

  She couldn't prove it, couldn't point to anything explicitly wrong with giving hungry kids extra food or asking about their experiences. But every instinct she'd developed working with manipulative adults told her this was calculated, purposeful.

  "That's... really nice of them," she said carefully, her voice neutral. "Just remember that information can be valuable too. Be careful what details you share about our group."

  Eli and Tommy looked at her with confusion, their happiness dimming slightly.

  "I'm not saying they're bad people," Dana added quickly. "Just that it's always smart to be cautious about what we tell strangers, even friendly ones."

  "How was the hunt?" Eli asked, turning his attention to Dana and clearly wanting to change the subject.

  "Educational." Dana settled onto her makeshift bed. "The team knows what they're doing. I think I can work with them."

  "Any problems with... you know..." Jake glanced around, then lowered his voice. "Reese?"

  "Surprisingly, no. He's different here. Almost like a completely different person." Dana's voice carried a note of puzzlement. "I'm not sure what to make of it."

  "People may change when their circumstances change," Jake observed.

  "Maybe." Dana wasn't entirely convinced, but she was willing to reserve judgment.

  "Whatever happened before, we're all just trying to survive now." Eli said quietly.

  Dana nodded, though part of her still burned with the memory of Reese's prideful face. Some things were harder to forgive than others. But Jake and Eli were right, survival had to come first. Everything else could wait.

  Dana was enjoying this rare moment of camaraderie when movement across the platform caught her attention. Peter sat alone against the far wall, isolated from the other visitors by at least ten feet of empty space. His precious briefcase was open beside him, a laptop computer balanced on his knees. The screen cast pale light across his haggard features as he stared at whatever information it contained.

  "I'll be right back," she said to the others, standing abruptly.

  Jake looked up, surprised by her sudden intensity. "Where are you going?"

  "Just something I need to check." Dana was already walking away, her stride purposeful and determined.

  Jake frowned but followed, his protective instincts kicking in. Whatever Dana was planning, his experience suggested it was better to be involved than left wondering.

  As they approached Peter’s sleeping area, the smell hit Dana like a physical wall. A rank, sour stench of unwashed clothes, stale sweat, and something else that made her nose wrinkle in disgust. Now she understood why Peter sat alone, why other visitors maintained that buffer zone around him despite the cramped conditions on the platform.

  "Hey, Peter," Dana called out as she approached.

  Peter's head snapped up, his expression immediately defensive. The laptop screen went dark as he quickly closed it, his hands protective of the device.

  "What do you want?" His voice was sharp with suspicion. "If you're here to make fun of me, then just fuck off."

  Dana raised her hands in a peaceful gesture, genuinely surprised by the hostility. "Calm down. I have no reason to make fun of you. I just want to ask for a favor."

  "A favor?" Peter's laugh was bitter. "What kind of favor? Want me to show you how to be a complete failure at everything? I've got plenty of experience with that."

  "I would like to borrow your laptop? Just for ten minutes, maybe less."

  Peter's expression shifted from defensive to incredulous. "Why would I give you my laptop? There's no signal down here, you can only access what's already stored on it. And I have no intention of letting you go through my personal files."

  Dana reached into her pocket and pulled out a small object that caught the platform's dim lighting. A keychain, in the shape of the statue of liberty, unremarkable except for the USB drive attached to it.

  "I need to look at what's inside this," she said simply.