Chapter 3: Zombie Neighbours
Could it be that his brother’s secret had been exposed because of Uncle Jorik?
From a different angle, it all made too much sense. Jorik had the access, the opportunity, and—most damningly—the motive. What would he really lose by betraying them?
The trust of two boys who might not survive another night? That was a small price to pay for a golden seat in the Howling Moon Gang’s camp.
And their camp wasn’t just a hideout—it was a goddamn palace by post-collapse standards. The biggest mall in the district turned fortress, stocked with bottled water, clothes both new and lost and found, canned food stacked to the ceiling.
Even a generator humming in the dark with enough fuel to last weeks if there was a blackout. For a man like Jorik, the offer to trade loyalty for comfort must’ve been irresistible.
If he had betrayed them, Merek realized with a sick drop in his gut, then his path had been marked the moment he pulled the trigger.
Three of the gang’s thugs had died by his revolver. If they knew his location—if Jorik had told them—then every breath he took now might be his last.
They could be coming.
No, they were coming.
Time had become a predator.
He had two options: weave the armor for Yuki or wait for the gang to come knocking and end him.