At the crack of dawn, the Vipers' base was quieter than usual. The sky was a pale blue with streaks of orange stretching across the horizon. Most of the base was still asleep or just beginning to stir, but near the outer gate, the group preparing for the mission stood ready.
Maarg and Jack walked toward the rendezvous point, both geared up—Jack with his fire axe slung over his shoulder, Maarg with his newly acquired combat knives strapped to his thighs. Sammy walked silently beside them, her expression unreadable. She hadn't said much since they agreed to Cobra's conditions, but her eyes lingered on the two of them longer than usual, like she was memorizing every detail before the parting.
As they neared the gate, they saw Henry already waiting, speaking with two others. One of them was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his late twenties with short-cropped brown hair and a serious face that rarely shifted. He wore a battered leather jacket and military-style boots—clearly someone who'd seen his fair share of fights.
Beside him stood a girl who looked no older than her early twenties. Her long black hair was tied in a high ponytail that swayed as she gestured animatedly to Henry about something. There was something lighthearted about her presence, a stark contrast to her husband's solemn demeanor. She wore cargo pants and a snug hoodie, a knife sheathed on one hip and a small crossbow slung across her back.
Henry turned as Maarg, Jack, and Sammy approached. He raised a hand in greeting. "Morning. You're just in time."
He motioned toward the two people with him. "This is Mark," he said, nodding at the tall, quiet man, "and his wife, Tara."
Mark gave them a small nod, his eyes scanning Jack and Maarg like he was mentally calculating their strengths and weaknesses. Tara, however, beamed.
"So you're the kids heading into the danger zone with us, huh?" she said, eyes landing on Maarg first, then Jack. "You two don't look half bad for rookies."
Maarg raised an eyebrow. "Thanks… I think?"
Jack chuckled. "You guys been to the danger zone before?"
"Once," Mark answered, voice low and firm. "Didn't go deep, though. Was more recon than anything."
"And this time," Henry added, "we're going in deeper than we ever have. So, let's keep it tight, no heroics. Stick to the plan."
Sammy looked at Tara, a bit surprised by her relaxed demeanor. "You sure you're okay going into a place like that?"
Tara grinned. "I've got Mark. He's like a one-man army. Besides, someone's gotta make sure these boys don't blow themselves up."
Henry chuckled and turned to Sammy. "You'll be staying with the medics and Carla's assistants until we're back. I've let the guards know—your safety is our responsibility."
Sammy didn't respond immediately. Then she stepped forward and gave both Jack and Maarg a quick hug—tight, but wordless. Her grip on Jack lingered just a second longer.
"You two better come back in one piece," she said, voice low.
"We will," Jack replied, giving her a firm nod.
"Promise."
With one final look, Sammy stepped back as the gates creaked open. The cool morning wind swept in, ruffling their clothes and hair. Henry adjusted his rifle strap, Mark cracked his neck, and Tara bounced on her heels, energy barely contained.
"Alright," Henry said, stepping through the gate. "Let's bring Carla home."
And just like that, they were off—five figures disappearing into the misty wilderness beyond the safety of the walls.
The journey toward the danger zone was quiet but tense. Every crunch of gravel beneath their boots and every gust of wind brushing past the abandoned buildings set the group slightly on edge. Shadows moved strangely in the morning light, making even rusted street signs look like lurking threats. Still, the five of them pushed forward, alert and efficient.
"We'll need to be vigilant," Henry said as he led the group around a rusted-over delivery truck on the side of the road. "It's not just the dead in the danger zone. Bandits, cannibals… not everyone's interested in surviving together."
Maarg nodded grimly. He didn't need to be told twice. His hands instinctively rested near the combat knives on his thighs. Jack walked beside him, gripping the handle of his fire axe tightly. "Just say the word if something moves," Jack muttered.
After a few hours of walking and navigating through alleyways and debris-covered streets, Henry led the group to a building with boarded-up windows just outside the red-marked border on the map. "We'll rest here for a bit," he said, checking the surroundings before signaling the others in.
Inside, the building was relatively clean, likely scavenged and abandoned early in the apocalypse. Dust danced in the rays of sunlight slipping through cracks in the boards. They set up in what used to be a waiting area of a small insurance office—desks overturned, chairs broken, papers long scattered.
Mark stood by the window, his eyes always scanning, but the tension in his shoulders had eased. He even cracked a half-smile when Jack made a joke about the apocalypse being the worst camping trip ever.
Tara, sitting cross-legged on the floor, had pulled out a small cloth pouch and was shuffling a colorful pack of cards with surprising grace.
"You still carry those?" Henry asked with a sigh, leaning against the wall.
Tara grinned. "Of course I do. It's tradition now. New group, new reading."
Mark, sitting beside her, gave a half-shrug. "She makes everyone do this. Just go along with it."
Jack perked up. "Tarot cards? Like, fortune-telling stuff?"
"Yup," Tara replied, laying out the cards in a neat line. "I used to do this at fairs and cafes before the world went to hell. Gotta say, the undead didn't see that one coming."
Maarg raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You really believe in all that?"
"Not really," she said with a smirk. "But it's fun. And sometimes, weirdly accurate."
Henry groaned quietly, though he had the ghost of a smile on his face.
Tara clapped her hands together. "Okay! Who wants to go first?"
Jack didn't hesitate. "Me!"
She chuckled and motioned him over. "Alright, big guy, cut the deck."
Jack shuffled forward and sliced the deck with a grin. Tara pulled three cards and laid them face down, then flipped the first one.
"The Fool," she said. "Not as bad as it sounds. It means new beginnings, potential, a journey—kind of perfect for you."
"Sounds like me already," Jack grinned.
Second card—The Tower. Tara paused. "Destruction, upheaval… change you didn't expect. Something big is coming your way."
Jack's grin faded just a little.
The third card—The Star. Tara looked relieved. "Hope, guidance, inner clarity. Whatever shakes you up, you'll find your way back."
Jack let out a breath. "Alright. Bit of a rollercoaster."
"Your turn, Mr. Skeptic," Tara said to Maarg with a wink.
Maarg rolled his eyes but sat in front of her anyway. "Let's get this over with."
He cut the deck swiftly, and Tara pulled three cards.
First—The Hermit. "Interesting. Introspection. Searching for truth or purpose."
Maarg didn't respond.
Second card—Justice. Tara tilted her head. "You're a thinker. Big on right and wrong, and that's going to be tested."
Maarg frowned slightly, watching her hands.
Third—Death.
Everyone stiffened a little, but Tara didn't look fazed. "Relax. This doesn't mean actual death. It means transformation. Letting go of the past, embracing change."
"I'm already living in a zombie apocalypse," Maarg muttered. "How much more 'change' do I need?"
Tara laughed. "Fair point."
Henry waved her off when she turned toward him, but she still pulled a single card just for fun—The Emperor. "Figures," she said, smirking. "Stable, authoritative, and grumpy."
Mark went last, reluctantly, sitting beside her. She gave him a soft smile as she drew his cards.
Strength. The Chariot. The Lovers.
"Looks like you're carrying a lot of burdens," Tara whispered to him, her tone suddenly more tender. "But you're not alone."
Mark didn't speak, but his hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
As they packed the cards away, the group settled into a more relaxed vibe. For a moment, it felt less like a death mission and more like old friends sharing a quiet moment.
"Let's get some rest," Henry said finally. "We step into hell at first light."
They had no Idea that "IT" was watching them, waiting for the right time to strike. "The Death" had some different implications