Hard ground again.
Samantha's back hurt twice as much this time.
"Oh my god... Samantha."
"You."
'You' referred to the man who'd woken up beside her—the same man she had driven a vicious knee into yesterday night.
"I'm Flynn."
Flynn scrambled to his feet, eyes bright with urgency. "Where's Mr. Jones? He's gotta be with you, right?"
Samantha had only managed to rise to her knees. Her neck gave out, letting her long black hair spill toward the floor like a curtain.
Flynn saw it.
First came fear—fear that their leader was gone, fear that no one would protect them this time. Then guilt.
"I'm sorry... here." He extended a hand to help Samantha up.
"Sorry for asking," he added as she steadied herself.
He seemed different now—less selfish, more aware. Samantha remembered how he'd acted back at the mall. This wasn't the same man.
"It's fine," she muttered.
She patted herself down, checking her shirt and pockets. Her notes were gone. She sighed.
"Damn it…"
Liam did the same on the other side of the room, rummaging through the pockets of his varsity jacket and jeans—empty. Then he pulled a small plastic packet from his mouth. Inside, just a breath mint. Still intact.
"Huh."
"You have any idea where we are?" Flynn asked.
Samantha looked around.
It resembled the lobby of a corporate building—receptionist's desk, elevator hall, sterile lighting.
"I don't know," she said. "I need to get outside. If I can see the roads, I might figure it out."
There were no zombies in sight—for now.
Outside, the city slept under a shroud of night. Streetlights cast the only glow in the emptiness.
"Brandon's here!"
"Oh thank god—Brandon, you're gonna save us, right?"
"Brandon!"
The voices came from the right. A crowd of about fifteen had formed around one man—tall, charismatic, handsome, commanding. Brandon.
"Guys…"
"You're gonna get us out of here, right?"
"Do you have a plan?"
"Please, I don't want to die…"
"Who's that?" Samantha asked.
"No idea," Flynn replied.
"Okay, okay! Calm down!" Brandon raised his voice over the clamor.
"Did you choose the mall last game?" someone asked Flynn, standing beside him.
"Yeah, we did."
"I don't know how you survived, but over on the island, every man owes that guy their life." The man gestured reverently toward Brandon, whose head was still visible above the crowd thanks to his height.
It was a familiar story. Back at the mall, they had a leader too—someone people respected. But he wasn't here now.
Flynn stayed silent about how they'd made it. Samantha stepped forward. "What did he do?"
"He's brilliant. A real leader. Compassionate. Trust me—we're in good hands."
Samantha studied Brandon.
Even surrounded and peppered with questions, he looked composed. Calm. Patient. He carried his responsibility like it weighed nothing. She could respect that.
"I need to know where we are," she said, and started walking toward the glass doors.
"Where are you going?" Flynn hurried after her.
"Outside. I've memorized a lot of Chicago's map. If I can recognize landmarks, I can figure out where we are—and where to find better supplies."
"Isn't that too dangerous? Samantha. Samantha!"
"Wait!"
Brandon's voice cut through, freezing her mid-step.
He jogged over, weaving lightly through the crowd.
"Don't be rash," he advised. "It's a zombie apocalypse out there. Sure, it looks empty now, but that could change fast."
"I just need a better look and I'll know where we are and where we should go. I won't go far."
"You're sure you can tell where we are?"
"I'm certain."
He saw it in her eyes—determination, clarity, the same fire he'd felt when he took charge.
Maybe more.
"You weren't on the island last round, were you?"
"I wasn't."
"Thought so."
He nodded. "We wouldn't have suffered as much if you'd been there. Listen—how about co-leading this group with me? The crowd already voted me in, but... I'm not thrilled about it. It's a lot. I could really use your help."
"I will," Samantha said without hesitation. "No one in this hall will die. I'll make sure of it."
Flynn and Brandon both widened their eyes, struck by the sheer certainty in her words.
But more than that—they respected her.
"Thank you," Brandon said. "Let's get to work. Your knowledge of the city will be key."
He began scanning the room.
"What are you looking for?" Flynn asked.
"Someone who co-led with me last time. Brilliant guy. But… he's not here."
He was.
Liam was in the same hall—but crouched behind the receptionist's desk, out of sight.
He was breathing hard, body locked in tension, eyes wide with panic. Sweat poured down his face.
"Liam! Are you okay?" Caitlyn called out.
"What's he doing now?" Lydia asked, irritation clear in her voice.
Liam didn't hear them. Didn't see them.
Didn't even know they were there.
One thought consumed him:
"Is that… is that really her?"