Chapter 28: The Outskirts - Part 1
Wednesday Afternoon - Day Fourteen
The bridge appeared around a bend in the road, concrete and steel spanning a ravine that dropped fifty feet to a creek below. And blocking it completely: logs, stripped cars, shopping carts—everything welded together with rope and determination.
"That's deliberate," Daniel said from the passenger seat.
"Yeah." I stopped the truck fifty yards back. In my rearview mirror, Travis did the same with the second vehicle.
Movement in the tree line. Five figures emerged—three men, two women, all armed. Hunting rifles, shotguns, one crossbow. They spread out in a loose semicircle, covering approaches.
The leader was easy to identify—biggest guy, cleanest weapon, standing front and center like he owned the road. Which, in a sense, he did.
[ TIMER: 54:47:18 ]
Two days, six hours. Still manageable, but the pressure was building. My hands had started trembling slightly that morning. The headaches were returning.
"Stay in the trucks," I said over the radio. "Let me handle this."
"Jax—" Madison started.
"Trust me."
I climbed out, hands visible and empty. The leader tracked me with his rifle but didn't raise it yet.
"Afternoon," I called. "We're just passing through. Looking to reach Atlanta."
"Ain't nobody passing through for free." His accent was thick Georgia rural. "This here's a toll road now."
"What's the toll?"
"Depends what you got. Supplies, weapons, fuel. We ain't greedy. Just need enough to survive."
I stopped twenty feet from him. Close enough to talk, far enough to react if things went bad. "We can spare some food. Medical supplies maybe. But we need our weapons and vehicles."
"That so?" He shifted his grip on the rifle. "See, way I figure it, you got two trucks, looks like ten, twelve people. That's a lot of supplies. More than you need, probably. Sharing's the neighborly thing."
"We are sharing. I just offered food and medicine."
"And I'm asking for more." He looked past me at the trucks. "That girl in the back of your truck. Young one. She yours?"
My blood went cold. "She's someone's daughter."
"Everyone's someone's daughter. Question is, what's she worth to you?"
Behind me, I heard a truck door open. Madison's voice, tight with rage: "What did you just say?"
"Easy," the leader said, raising one hand while keeping the rifle pointed at me. "Just business. Girl like that's valuable. Young, healthy, clean-looking. Worth more than food or medicine. Worth passage for all of you, actually."
Daniel had climbed out too, shotgun held low but ready. Travis was behind him, no weapon visible but positioned to move.
"That's not happening," I said quietly.
"Then we got a problem. Because this is my bridge, and I set the terms."
One of his people—a woman with a crossbow—was limping badly. Infection, probably, based on how she favored her left leg. Another man had a fever-bright flush to his face. They needed medical attention more than they needed supplies.
"Your people are sick," I said. "I'm a medical resident. I can help them. That's worth passage."
The leader considered it. "Medicine's good. But the girl's better."
"The girl is not negotiable."
"Everything's negotiable. That's the new world."
Alicia climbed out of the truck. I wanted to tell her to stay inside, but she was already moving, knife visible in her hand.
"I can speak for myself," she said. "And I'm not going anywhere with you."
The leader smiled—ugly, predatory. "Feisty. I like that. Makes it more interesting."
Madison moved between them, her own knife drawn. "Touch my daughter and I'll carve you apart."
"Lot of tough talk for people outnumbered and outgunned."
"Are you?" I asked.
He looked at me. "Am I what?"
"Outgunning us. You've got five people with hunting weapons. We've got four armed, four more in the trucks, and training you probably don't have." I took a step closer. "And I've already killed more people than you've probably met in the last two weeks. So maybe reconsider your position."
His smile faded. "You threatening me?"
"I'm informing you. There's a difference."
Tension crystallized. Everyone calculating whether violence was worth it. The leader's people were nervous—I could see it in how they held their weapons, how they kept glancing at each other for reassurance.
The leader himself was more confident, but confidence without competence was just arrogance. He thought his size and his gun gave him power. They gave him options, not certainty.
"Last chance," he said. "Supplies, weapons, and the girl. Or we take everything after we kill you."
I moved.
Grabbed his rifle barrel with my left hand, twisted hard while stepping inside his guard. The virus gave me enhanced reflexes and strength—he didn't expect the speed. The rifle came free, my right hand breaking his trigger finger in the process.
He screamed. I reversed the rifle, drove the stock into his solar plexus. He went down gasping.
Behind me, Daniel and Nick had their weapons up, covering the other four scavengers. Travis had produced a pistol from somewhere, aiming at the woman with the crossbow.
"Don't," Daniel said calmly. "You fire, you die. Simple math."
The scavengers froze. Their leader was on his knees, clutching his chest, trying to breathe. I knelt beside him, spoke quietly so only he could hear.
"You can live or die. Right now. Your choice. Choose fast."
"Fuck... you..."
"Wrong answer." I pressed the rifle barrel against his temple. "Try again."
"Okay! Okay! Live! I choose live!"
I stood, kept the rifle. "Move the barricade. Let us through. When we're on the other side, you can have your guns back. Minus the ammunition."
"That's... not fair..."
"You're alive. That's more fair than you deserve."
His people helped him to his feet. Together, they dragged logs aside, pushed cars to the edge. Created a gap just wide enough for our trucks to squeeze through.
We drove across slowly. On the other side, I tossed their weapons into the ravine—unloaded, useless until they climbed down to retrieve them. By then, we'd be long gone.
The leader stood at the barricade, cradling his broken hand, watching us leave. The hate in his eyes was pure and simple.
"That'll cause problems later," Daniel observed.
"Maybe. But we'll be in Atlanta by then."
"Assuming they don't have friends who chase us down."
"Then we handle them too."
We drove for an hour before stopping. Found an abandoned farmhouse off the main road, pulled into the barn to hide the trucks.
Madison found me checking inventory, making sure nothing had been damaged during the confrontation.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For not letting them take Alicia. For handling it without anyone getting killed."
"They would have killed us all eventually. The girl was just the first demand. Once they had her, they'd have come back for everything else."
"Still. You moved fast. Didn't hesitate."
"Hesitation gets people killed."
She touched my arm. "You're shaking."
I pulled away, busied myself with the supplies. "Adrenaline."
"It's more than that. You've been shaky for two days. And you're not sleeping."
"I'm fine."
"Jax—"
"Madison. Please. I'm handling it."
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. But if you need help, ask. We're a group. We help each other."
"I'll keep that in mind."
She left. Alicia replaced her almost immediately, like they'd coordinated.
"That was insane," Alicia said. "You disarmed him like it was nothing."
"It was something. Just fast enough he didn't react in time."
"Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"Medical school includes self-defense training. For dealing with violent patients."
"That was more than self-defense. That was—" She searched for the word. "Tactical. Like you've done it before."
Calvin. The looters in the neighborhood. Martinez at the Canal. The pirates on the trawler. Yeah, I've done it before.
"I've had practice lately."
"He was going to take me. You knew that from the start, didn't you? That's why you got out of the truck."
"I suspected. Men like that always want leverage. Young women are the easiest target."
"And you stopped it before it started."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Because you're Alicia Clark, and you survive everything the apocalypse throws at you. Because I need you alive, need your strength, need your moral compass even when I'm losing mine.
"Because you're part of this group. And I protect the group."
"That's not the whole answer."
"It's the answer you're getting."
She pulled out her knife, the one I'd been teaching her to use. "He looked at me like I was property. Like I was something to be traded."
"Yeah."
"If you hadn't been there—if it was just Mom and Travis and the others—they might have tried to negotiate. To trade me for passage."
"Travis wouldn't have allowed it."
"Maybe not. But the thought would have been there. The calculation." She turned the knife over in her hands. "That's what the world is now, isn't it? Everything's a transaction. Everyone's expendable."
"Not everyone."
"But most people."
"Yeah. Most people."
She looked at me. "Am I expendable to you?"
The question was direct, unflinching. She deserved the same in return.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're smart, capable, learning fast. Because you're an asset." I held her gaze. "And because I don't want you to be."
"Which reason is more important?"
"I don't know yet."
She smiled slightly. "Honest. I appreciate that."
Nick appeared in the barn doorway. "We're setting up inside. Patricia found canned food in the cellar—green beans, peaches, some soup. Real dinner for once."
We gathered in the farmhouse kitchen, eating by candlelight. The food was old but edible. People talked quietly, processing the day's violence, grateful it hadn't been worse.
Chris approached me while I was washing my bowl in collected rainwater.
"That was crazy. At the bridge. You just... went for him."
"Seemed like the best option."
"Weren't you scared?"
"Fear's a luxury. Can't afford it when people are depending on you."
"My dad says you're dangerous. That we should be careful around you."
"Your dad's smart."
"But you keep saving us. You saved him during the storm. Saved Alicia today. How can you be dangerous if you keep helping?"
I dried my hands on a towel that probably hadn't been clean in weeks. "Dangerous doesn't mean evil. It just means capable of violence. Whether that's good or bad depends on who it's aimed at."
"And who are you aiming it at?"
"Anyone who threatens the people I'm trying to keep alive."
He thought about that. "Okay. I can respect that."
He left. Liza took his place, examining my hands.
"Your knuckles are bruised. From when you hit that man."
"He had a hard chest."
"Let me see." She checked for broken bones, applied antiseptic to the scrapes. "You're lucky. Could have been worse."
"Story of my life lately."
"How's your... condition? The one you mentioned before?"
[ TIMER: 51:22:47 ]
Just over two days. The pressure was building—headaches intensifying, vision starting to tinge red at the edges.
"Manageable."
"That's not a yes or a no."
"It's all I can give you right now."
She finished bandaging my hands. "When you're ready to talk about it, I'm a nurse. I might be able to help."
"I'll keep that in mind."
That night, we slept in the farmhouse. Real beds for the first time in weeks, even if the mattresses were ancient and musty. People claimed rooms, settled in, tried to find comfort in temporary safety.
I took watch on the porch, Glock in my lap, watching the road. The moon was bright enough to see clearly—anything approaching would be visible long before it arrived.
Daniel joined me around midnight.
"The scavengers. They'll talk about us. Spread word that there's a group of dangerous people heading to Atlanta."
"Probably."
"That could make things harder. Or easier. Depends on who hears the story."
"We'll deal with it either way."
He pulled out Griselda's rosary, ran the beads through his fingers. "You know, in El Salvador, there was a saying: 'El que busca encuentra.' He who seeks, finds. But there was a second part people forget: 'Y el que encuentra, paga.' And he who finds, pays."
"What's your point?"
"You're seeking something. I don't know what. But when you find it, the cost will be high." He stood. "Just make sure it's a cost you can afford."
He left me alone with the Georgia night and the constant countdown in my head.
[ TIMER: 50:18:33 ]
Two days, two hours. Time was running out.
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