Nowhere is Safe

Day 24 – The Militia’s Shadow

Dr. Evelyn Carter had always believed in calculated risks.

But as she crouched behind a cluster of overgrown bushes, watching the militia camp less than a hundred yards away, she realized she had made a mistake.

A bad one.

The men in military fatigues weren’t scavengers. They weren’t just some random band of survivors.

They were expanding.

And she and her group had wandered straight into their territory.

Evelyn glanced at the others.

Cross, Voss, Samara, and Maggie were all hunched low, eyes locked on the campfires glowing in the distance.

Voss kept one hand on his rifle, his expression unreadable.

Cross muttered, "We shouldn’t be this close."

"No kidding," Samara whispered back.

Evelyn exhaled slowly. They had three choices.

And that last option?

It might be the only way to survive them.

Evelyn made her decision.

"We stay and watch."

Cross shot her a look. "Are you serious?"

"If we don’t know what they’re doing, we’re just running blind," she said.

Voss nodded. "She’s right. We give it a few hours. See how they operate."

Cross muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue.

And so they watched.

For the next two hours, Evelyn studied the camp.

The militia was disciplined. Organized.

Not just a ragtag group of survivors.

They had patrol routes. Guard rotations. Supplies being distributed.

This was a system.

And then—

Evelyn saw them.

Prisoners.

A dozen people locked behind a chain-link fence, huddled together in the cold.

Thin. Malnourished. Some injured.

Maggie’s breath hitched. "Jesus."

Evelyn’s stomach twisted.

This wasn’t just a military encampment.

It was a work camp.

Or worse.

Voss clenched his jaw. "We need to go. Now."

Evelyn barely had time to nod—

Before a gunshot split the air.

The camp erupted into movement.

Guards rushed toward the prisoner cages, shouting orders.

One of the prisoners—a young man in torn clothing—had made a run for it.

He got exactly five steps before a rifle cracked.

His body crumpled into the dirt.

Evelyn’s breath hitched.

The guards didn’t even look surprised.

One of them—a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar across his cheek—sighed and muttered, "Dump him with the others."

And just like that, the body was dragged away.

No hesitation.

No remorse.

Samara whispered, "We need to go. Right now."

For once, Evelyn agreed.

They had seen enough.

She turned to Voss—

But his expression had changed.

Because he wasn’t looking at the prisoners anymore.

He was looking at a banner hanging near the main tent.

And Evelyn felt her blood run cold.

Because she recognized the symbol on it.

It was the same one they had seen on the road.

The same one painted over an old American flag.

ORDER THROUGH FIRE.

This wasn’t just any militia.

It was the same group that burned the CDC to the ground.

And now?

They were right in her path.

Evelyn whispered, "We have to go. Now."

No one argued.

They turned, moving carefully back through the trees—

But then—

A branch snapped.

The sound wasn’t from them.

It was behind them.

Evelyn’s heart spiked.

And then—

A voice.

"Hey!"

They’d been spotted.

Evelyn ran.

Her pulse thundered as she crashed through the underbrush, her lungs burning.

Gunfire ripped through the trees.

Bullets tore past, too close, too loud.

"Move!" Voss shouted, his rifle raised as he fired back.

Evelyn didn’t look back.

She couldn’t.

She just ran.

And prayed she lived long enough to see tomorrow.