C9 The Shadow Corps Was Annihilated

Just before the sun dipped below the horizon, our group made it back to camp. We had set up inside a gas station at the village's heart, ringed by a makeshift four-meter-high wall.

But now, the camp was eerily quiet, the gates sealed shut as if it had been deserted.

"Senior Sister Meili! I'm back! Can you open the gate?"

Ashes called out several times to no avail. Moorer had a sinking feeling—had the camp been overrun?

Ashes, too, found it odd. He set down his pack and effortlessly leaped over the wall.

"To them, it seems this wall might as well be invisible."

Soon after, the gate swung open from the inside, and Ashes emerged with a somber expression. "We've been attacked..."

Payson and Moorer hurried inside to find the place in shambles—a clear sign of a fierce struggle. They turned to see a chilling message scrawled in blood on the left wall.

"Stockton was here!"

Next to the grim graffiti lay a body in a dark green robe—one of their own. Ashes knelt beside it, tears spilling from his eyes. Meow hopped onto the body, sniffed, and shook its head.

"This person's been dead for two days... Brother Ashes, please accept my deepest sympathies..."

While the others were distracted, Payson slipped into what seemed to be a makeshift storage area. He soon emerged, pinching his nose.

"These despicable cowards!" Payson spat out in disgust. "They've taken all the supplies they could carry and wrecked everything else. The warehouse is littered with opened cans that have gone bad..."

Moorer's gaze fell on the six-wheeled pickup Ashes had mentioned, noting the thoroughness of the vandals. They hadn't spared anything—the vehicle's windows were shattered, all six tires slashed and deflated, and the fuel tank was drained dry.

"They probably don't know any better. They didn't inflict any serious damage. A simple fix, and it should run just fine..."

Ashes, a trained assassin, quickly suppressed his emotions. He marked his deceased senior brother's body with a cross, honoring their tradition, and prayed for his departed soul.

When Payson and Moorer returned, Ashes had already used a shovel from his backpack to dig a deep grave and bury his senior brother.

"How's the camp looking?" Ashes inquired, his back turned to them.

"It's pretty bad. I checked your temporary storage and living quarters. Almost everything's been destroyed by those people. We've only got four cans of food in decent shape and a four-liter water bucket left," Payson reported.

"The car's been trashed too, but it's fixable! I spotted a repair shop on the way here. We should be able to find the tools and materials we need there," Moorer added.

"I did a full lap around the camp and didn't come across any other bodies. I think the others are still alive, just captured..." Meow said, shaking her head from atop the city wall.

"...You two go ahead with your tasks... I need a moment..." Ashes knelt on one knee by his senior brother's grave, plunging his sleeve sword into the ground at the head of the grave, silently shedding tears.

Moorer was about to offer some comfort, but Payson tapped him on the shoulder, gesturing for him to step outside with him. Meow, understandingly, stayed close to Ashes, as if to help bear his grief.

"Why'd you call me out here?"

"There's no point. He needs to grieve alone. We'd be better off scavenging for supplies to ensure our survival," Payson reasoned.

"You're right... I noticed a clothing store nearby. Let's check it out; we might find something useful."

The clothing store's front didn't promise much, so to save time, they split up to scour the warehouse.

Payson lucked out, finding a pair of loose dark blue jeans, a dark gray shirt, a long-sleeved jacket with pink and blue horizontal stripes, and a pair of white and blue sneakers.

He was tempted to change into the new clothes but considered the cold outside and the possibility that they might not be warm enough. Instead, he decided to layer them over the tight-fitting clothes from the shelter, solving both warmth and appearance issues in one go.

He also stumbled upon a golden age backpack designed for mountaineers, boasting an extraordinary amount of space. In his own words, it could easily hold several guns.

Payson slung the backpack over his shoulders and left the warehouse, only to find Moorer had been waiting for him at the entrance. Moorer's style was a stark contrast to Payson's. The most striking feature on Moorer was his slightly faded lab coat, under which he wore an untied black shirt. His khaki jeans and dark brown leather shoes gave him an air of sophistication.

Payson took note of the enormous duffel bag Moorer had slung over one shoulder and the solid wooden baseball bat he held in his right hand.

"Moorer... I mean no offense... but you already look like an uncle, and with those clothes, it's just a bit..."

"What's the matter?" Moorer bellowed with laughter. "This is how I dressed in the golden era. Got a problem with that?"

"Not at all, not at all..."

...

By the time Moorer and his companions made it back to camp, Ashes and Meow had already got a fire going and were waiting for their return. They warmed up two cans of food and had a bite to eat.

Night had fallen, and each of them, along with the cat, found their own rooms to settle down for the night. Moorer, however, couldn't sleep. He lay on his back, gazing up at the star-filled sky.

The first day in the wasteland of the Cataclysm had safely come to an end... What would they encounter next?