Page 93 of What Remains

"Military Police."

Jay blinked. "Huh. With the way you shoot, I was expecting Recon or Force Recon."

Cade chuckled. "I spent enough time attached to infantry units. And enough range days."

Seth smiled. "It shows. Marine infantry, myself."

Josie smiled. "Air Force."

Cade looked at her. "What was your job?"

"Trauma surgeon."

His eyebrows lifted, and he glanced around the circle. "Well. I suddenly feel a whole lot better about getting shot."

The tension that had lingered since the ambush finally broke when Seth mentioned the coffee at Fort Benning. "That stuff could strip paint," he said.

Seth snorted. "Paint? The stuff they served at Lejeune could dissolve concrete."

Even Cade cracked a smile. The shared joke was a key turning a locked door. First came a story about a drill sergeant from hell, then another about inedible MREs. Once started, the memories flowed easily. For a little while, they weren't just survivors huddled in a garage; they were veterans on a cold concrete floor, finding common ground in the universal misery of barracks life.

Outside, the wind howled against the metal building. Inside, one by one, conversation gave way to yawns. Sleeping bags rustled across the concrete floor, weapons laid within arm's reach by instinct.

Seth volunteered for first watch. Cade quietly joined him without being asked.

Neither man spoke as they settled near one of the garage

doors, watching the darkness together, two soldiers standing the same silent watch.

The bus garage still sat in darkness when Seth nudged the side door open, and a blast of icy air swept inside. Snow had fallen most of the night, covering yesterday's footprints and leaving the world beyond the school buried beneath an unbroken blanket of white—as if the ambush, the blood, and the bodies had never happened at all.

Cade already stood outside.

He waited with his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, eyes fixed on the horizon, steam curling from the battered metal mug clasped in one hand. He didn't turn at the sound of the door; a man that aware of his surroundings, didn't need to.

"You sleep?" Seth asked, stepping up beside him.

"Enough."

Seth smirked. "That usually means no."

Cade shrugged. "I've slept in worse places."

The two men stood in comfortable silence as dawn slowly painted the mountains in shades of pink and gold. Neither felt the need to fill the quiet. It was enough to watch the sun rise.

The stillness didn't last.

Jay pushed through the door carrying two more mugs of instant coffee, breath fogging in the cold. "You two planning on solving the apocalypse before breakfast?"

"No," Cade answered, accepting the mug with a nod. "But we are changing today's plan."

Jay frowned. "What do you mean?"

Cade lifted his chin toward the school, and the road beyond it. "We're not driving into Lakewood blind. Yesterday proved that somebody had been working these roads, and if they're organized enough to set an ambush, they're organized enough to be watching a supply run coming."

Seth looked at him, unsurprised. "I was thinking the same thing."

The school roof groaned beneath Seth's boots as he stepped off the maintenance ladder. A bitter wind cut through his jacket, carrying the sharp bite of snow and the diesel smell from the bus garage below.