Echoes between us
Chapter 4(iv) – Echoes Between Us (iv) POV: Scarlett
We were close now.
The streets had thinned into empty lots and dead grass. Crumbled street signs pointed to nothing, and the wind carried silence that made you feel watched. But the tension shifted suddenly. Luke slowed beside me, and Grey's head tilted with that sharp awareness of his.
That's when I saw them.
Ahead, past the slight ridge where the road dipped, was the safe zone. Or what we assumed was one. It looked like a fortress—metal walls, sharp lines, and way too much order in a world gone to shit. And the people? They saw us before we even registered them.
They emerged like ghosts from corners and rooftops, gear so clean and polished it looked out of place. Helmets, vests, rifles aimed and ready.
Guns.
One barked a command.
"Hands where we can see them! Move and we shoot."
Blair flinched beside me, her fingers twitching toward panic. But then she looked at Grey—who was already raising his hands calmly, face unreadable—and she steadied.
Jane shuffled closer to Luke. I felt her tremble, just slightly.
And Jonah?
Jonah froze like he'd hit a wall of ice. He didn't blink. Didn't twitch. If we weren't all worried about getting gunned down, we might've laughed.
The soldiers moved quickly, efficiently. They stripped us of our weapons, patting us down and bagging everything with care that made me think they'd done this a hundred times before. A woman with a tablet scanned our faces. One murmured into a comm.
"We're taking them into quarantine."
Quarantine.
I glanced at Luke. He nodded. We didn't resist.
---
POV: Grey
The white tent smells like antiseptic and desperation.
It's slick—cleaner than the outside world deserves to be. Bright lights hum overhead. There are two guards outside the flap, and one inside, hands resting near the safety on his rifle.
I look around.
Not just to observe—but to see through this place. The setup. The exits. The subtle marks on the floor that might tell a different story. Nothing here's ever just what it looks like.
A woman in a lab coat enters. Late 30s maybe. Blonde streaks in her tied-back hair. Her smile is tight, but practiced.
"I'm Dr. Harlan. Just a few tests."
She draws blood, checks my vitals, swabs inside my mouth.
"You been exposed?" she asks casually.
"Define exposed," I reply.
That makes her pause. Then she chuckles, like I just told a joke. I didn't.
She keeps talking. Small things. Places I've been. People I've seen.
I give her just enough. She gives nothing back. Her poker face is better than most.
Minutes pass. She finishes.
"Someone will take you outside soon."
I nod once.
Out of the tent, I scan the area. Rows of similar tents. And people. Dozens. Maybe more. Some sitting. Some pacing. All waiting.
They don't look infected. Just... lost.
---
POV: Luke
They put a needle in me.
Not even a warning. Just jabbed it into my arm like I was a lab rat. It stung, and I winced harder than I meant to.
"Sorry," the nurse muttered.
The doctor was nicer. Asked questions. I answered most. Told her about the cities, the roads, the way the infected moved. She nodded, typing things down.
"I saw someone turn," I said. "Like, the full process. It's not fast."
"Interesting," she murmured.
I kept talking, trying to make sense of things. Maybe hoping she'd say something that made this all feel like it was under control.
But she didn't.
After what felt like forever, I was led out. Sunlight hit my face like a slap.
And there he was.
Grey was already out, sitting alone on a bench outside the slick white tent, arms folded, legs stretched like he didn't just come from being poked and prodded. The glow from overhead lamps lined the perimeter of the quarantine zone, casting hard shadows that didn't seem to bother him at all.
I walked over slowly, my arm still sore from the damn needle. He didn't look up, but I sat next to him anyway.
"Hey," I muttered.
"You cry?" Grey asked, still staring ahead.
I scoffed. "Nearly punched the doctor. Count that as progress."
He huffed—close enough to a laugh.
The tent flaps shifted behind us, and a few more figures appeared in the blue-white light. Jane emerged first, eyes flicking around like she was trying to map the place already. Scarlett was right behind her, calm but alert. Jonah and Blair came out next, talking quietly.
Everyone looked… fine. Exhausted, maybe. But alive.
We gathered in a small corner just off the main clearing. The safe zone wasn't a camp. It was a setup—efficient, guarded, and clearly designed to last. Soldiers moved in well-rehearsed patrols, the walls were lined with lights, and security cameras tracked everything.
Scarlett leaned in slightly, eyes scanning. "They saw us before we spotted them."
"Definitely," Jane muttered. "Their guns were already up."
I remembered Blair panicking for a second—only for her to lock eyes with Grey and somehow relax. Jonah had frozen. Completely. His lips had parted like he meant to say something, but forgot what words were. That image alone would've been enough to make us laugh, if not for the damn rifles aimed at our chests.
We'd been searched. Probed. Tested. The whole medical routine was thorough and mechanical. They didn't trust anything, or anyone.
Now that we were out, it felt like we were just… waiting.
"I don't like the quiet," Scarlett said, arms crossed.
"Me either," Grey finally added. "Means things are settled. Or about to break."
I nodded. "Let's figure out how this place works before we sleep."
We started walking, slow and careful. There were tents everywhere—some medical, others clearly housing survivors. People sat in tight circles, talking in low voices. Some were eating from ration packs, others just staring into nothing. No one smiled. At least not in the way we remembered smiles.
Blair nudged Jonah. "You good now, soldier?"
He groaned. "Didn't expect a welcoming committee with rifles. Sue me."
"We might," Jane said, a ghost of a smirk playing at her lips.
Grey looked over his shoulder, eyeing the guards at the far gate. "These guys don't look like regular military. Equipment's too clean. Too advanced."
Scarlett added, "Whatever this place is… it's not just some refugee center."
We all fell quiet at that.
Night deepened. The sky outside the walls was pitch black. Inside, everything was drenched in artificial light, harsh and unforgiving.
I glanced up at the towering barricades, the watchtowers, the gates.
"Let's see if this place is really safe."
No one answered.
But we all kept walking.