Wednesday, December 10, 2025, 8:45 AM Countdown to Extraction: 65 Hours, 56 Minutes Remaining
The bank smelled like lemon disinfectant, damp commercial carpet, and the faint, sweet tang of printer toner.
Normal smells. They felt like a sick joke now, lingering props from a life that had already been canceled.
Nobody in the lobby sat comfortably. They leaned against heavy oak desks, perched on the edges of armrests, or crouched low against the load-bearing walls. People chose positions that gave them a clear view of the barricaded front doors and of each other. Every movement in the room carried a silent, heavy question: Are you safe? Are you a liability? Are you going to turn on me?
Barbie was the only living thing in the building who didn't understand the crushing weight hanging in the air.
The tiny Yorkie wagged and wiggled, soaking up the attention of the Cruz children like it was her job. Her docked tail thumped against the cold tile floor as Sofia gently braided imaginary ribbons into her fur. Lucas let out a sharp, bright laugh—a sound that felt too loud for the dark bank. Barbie just panted, tongue out, thrilled to be useful.
Kenzie sat cross-legged near them, her back pressed hard against a mahogany desk, watching the kids play like it was something fragile she didn't trust.
Lila sat close beside her. Close enough that their knees touched, letting Kenzie feel a steady, grounding warmth bleed through the denim of the older girl's jeans.
Caleb paced the lobby.
He couldn't sit. Every few steps, he rubbed his hands together like he was trying to scrub his dead wife's blood off his skin. Then he would run his fingers through his hair, stop, and stare at the front doors. The grief sat on him differently here than it had in the Jeep. It wasn't loud. It had hardened into something restless, calculating, and sharp.
The conversations didn't start all at once. They bled out into the open space in nervous fragments.
"We need to reinforce those doors..." "There isn't enough food in the breakroom for everyone..." "What about the vault? Can we lock ourselves in?" "I'm not taking my kids back out into that street."
Daniel Cruz finally cleared his throat. The sound echoed in the quiet room.
He stood with his arm wrapped tight around Rebecca's shoulders, his fingers gripping her jacket like he was terrified she might drift away. He had dark circles under his eyes and a tight, exhausted jaw. He looked like the kind of dad who was great at fixing flat tires or dealing with bad weather.
Nothing could have prepared him for this.
Rebecca stared at the marble floor, her mouth pressed into a thin, pale line that kept trembling.
"We're staying here," Daniel announced, his voice rough.
The lobby quieted.
Rebecca's head snapped up. Panic flashed in her eyes before she smoothed it away and looked down at Sofia and Lucas.
"Just for a little while," Daniel added, feeling the shift in the room. "Not forever. But for right now. Tonight."
Rebecca nodded fast. "The kids... they're exhausted. They're terrified. I can't drag them back out there yet."
On the floor, Sofia giggled at Barbie. Lucas fell over onto the tile, smiling.
Rebecca looked down at her children with a brittle, agonizing smile, then turned her face toward the wall so they wouldn't see her cry.
"We aren't risking one of us getting killed out there," Daniel told the room, softer now. "Not if it means leaving them alone. I'll pull the night watch. We'll share whatever supplies we have. But we aren't moving from this building tonight."
No one argued.
Some people nodded in exhausted understanding. A few others looked relieved, glad someone else had finally made a call.
Marissa, one of the tellers, spoke up next.
She leaned against the granite counter, arms crossed over her chest. She had kicked off her heels somewhere. "I'm not staying," she said, her tone practical and flat. "This place is fine for an hour, but it's a glass box. If a herd comes through, we're trapped. Too many windows."
Tanya snorted quietly from the corner. "You say that like anywhere else in this city is better."
Tanya sat on the floor with her back pressed against a pillar, her knees pulled up, chewing on the edge of a stale granola bar she'd been rationing. She was wiry and hyper-alert, her dark eyes constantly tracking the shadows.
June stood beside her, calmer. "We're just trying to hold this together," June said softly. "At least until the sun comes up."
Rochelle nodded. "We've got snacks, bottled water, the first aid kit from the manager's office. The fridge is still cold."
"For now," Marissa countered.
Kevin, a loan officer, leaned back against a desk. "I'm with Marissa. We rest, wait for the street to clear, then we move."
"Move where?" Lou asked, his voice shaking. The older man still clutched a wooden clipboard to his chest like the paperwork might save him.
Kevin shrugged. "Somewhere with fewer people screaming."
Priya spoke up from the shadows near the manager's office. "Splitting up isn't smart. Larger groups survive better. Statistically."
"Statistically," Harold muttered, rubbing his temples, "we're already dead."
"Don't say that," Eleanor snapped.
The elderly woman sat beside Frank, gripping his knee. She was sharp-eyed and fierce, despite the tremor in her hands. Frank hadn't said a word—he just nodded along, his cloudy gaze fixed on the wall.
"We survived yesterday," Eleanor said firmly. "We survived the night. That counts for something."
Near the offices, Monica shifted closer to her sister, Jade.
"We're trying to get to our brother," Monica said to the room. Her voice was rehearsed, like she'd been repeating it all night to keep from breaking down. "He's stationed on base."
Jade nodded quickly. "Hunter. He's military. If anyone has supplies or a safe zone..."
Kenzie's head snapped up.
The base.
Her heart gave a painful, hopeful jolt. That was where Tally and Justin were heading. That was the military installation Ethan had mentioned.
Kenzie swallowed hard, the realization sinking in like a stone.
I could catch up to them.
She didn't dare say it out loud, but the thought lodged deep in her chest.
Raúl cleared his throat.
Every head turned toward him. He stood near the teller line with Mateo perched awkwardly on his hip. The little boy's dark head rested heavily against his father's shoulder. Mateo was quiet. Too quiet. His left arm hung stiffly at his side, the sleeve of his winter coat pulled down far over his hand. Raúl kept his large hand pressed flat over the boy's ribs, his fingers splayed, holding him tight.
"I need to get him to a hospital," Raúl said, his accent thickening with stress. "He's hurt."
Kenzie noticed the calculated way Raúl adjusted Mateo—turning the boy subtly away from the rest of the room, angling his small body so no one could see his left side clearly.
She noticed the way his voice tightened with terror. She noticed how he didn't elaborate.
"If anyone is still helping people," Raúl begged the room, "it will be there."
Hospital.
The word hit Kenzie like a second collision. Dr. Sharon Leesburg. Tally and Justin's mother.
The trauma hospital and the military base—two anchors pulling in opposite directions in her fractured mind.
Lila noticed Kenzie's expression shift. "Kenzie?" she whispered.
Kenzie hesitated. "Someone I know works at Memorial," she said quietly. "A trauma doctor."
The room hummed with frantic interest.
"A hospital is a death trap," Kevin said, shaking his head. "That's where everyone goes when they get sick. It'll be a slaughterhouse."
"That's where the medicine is," Priya countered. "Doctors. Equipment."
"And the infections," Tanya added darkly from her corner.
Raúl visibly tightened his grip on Mateo. Mateo whimpered, a wet, pained sound. Raúl rocked him once, murmuring something rapid in Spanish.
Then Kenzie saw it.
She saw the dark, wet stain at the edge of the boy's shirt—a weeping shadow, barely visible in the dim light, pressed flat beneath Raúl's desperate hand.
It was too dark.
Kenzie's stomach turned over. He's bitten.
Caleb stopped pacing in the center of the room.
"My wife's family," Caleb said, staring at Aaron. "They're south. Near Richmond Hill. If... if you're going that way, I might come with you."
Lila reached out and grabbed Caleb's arm. "You don't have to decide that right now."
He gave a broken nod. "I know. I just... I don't want to be out there alone."
Alyssa shifted anxiously beside Aaron. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, her hoodie pulled tight around her body. Aaron stood slightly in front of her, his eyes constantly scanning the shadows.
"I know this city," Aaron said to Kevin. "There are places we can hole up. Warehouses by the port. My uncle has a place outside Savannah—chain-link fence, a gas generator, well water."
"That's not a plan," Kevin dismissed. "That's a blind hope."
Aaron met the loan officer's gaze with ice. "Hope is better than sitting here waiting to die."
Rebecca Cruz spoke up again, her voice shaking but firm. "We aren't judging anyone in here for leaving. We just... we can't. Not yet."
Sofia tugged lightly at her mother's pant leg. "Mama, Barbie's sleepy now."
Rebecca smiled, crouching down to gently kiss her daughter's dirty forehead. "She's just resting, baby. Be quiet."
Kenzie watched the agonizing way Rebecca turned her face away again, her shoulders shaking once before she steadied herself.
This was where it happened. This was the exact place where people decided who they were going to be in the new world.
Stay. Go. Wait. Run.
The gravity of the choices pressed in on Kenzie's chest.
Lila leaned closer. "What are you thinking?"
Kenzie hesitated for a long time. Then, quietly, "That everything just keeps breaking apart."
Lila nodded slowly. "Yeah."
Barbie trotted sleepily over and plopped down directly between the two girls, curling into Kenzie's lap like she'd officially chosen her side. Kenzie buried her freezing fingers deep in the dog's fur, breathing in the warmth.
"I don't want to lose anyone else," Kenzie whispered, her voice cracking.
Lila didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was just as terrified. "Me neither."
Across the dark room, Raúl shifted Mateo again, turning the boy further inward toward the wall. The little boy's fingers twitched. Raúl pressed his palm harder against the dark stain on his side.
Around them, survival plans continued to fracture and form in the dark—some staying, some leaving, some paralyzed, waiting until morning to decide.
Kenzie looked around the bank at these terrified strangers. Strangers with names, stories, and families. She wondered who in this room would still be breathing tomorrow.
But beneath the exhaustion, one dangerous thought kept pulsing:
If the hospital is still standing… If the base is still standing…
Maybe not everything was lost.
The glass doors stayed shut. The fluorescent lights stayed on. And for one fragile night, the world narrowed down to a bank, a dog, and a room full of terrified people choosing how they were going to survive.
Wednesday, December 10, 2025, 8:51 AM Countdown to Extraction: 65 Hours, 50 Minutes Remaining