Strangers in the Dark

Western North Carolina

Day 30 – Too Many Unknowns

The firelight flickered low and weak, casting shadows against the thick tree line.

Daniel Holt sat with his back against a rotting log, revolver resting on his knee, eyes locked on the stranger across from him.

A man in his late forties, weathered face, thick beard, wearing patched-up hunting gear that had seen better days.

His name was Baker.

And Daniel didn’t trust him.

Not yet.

Erin sat beside Daniel, arms folded tightly, body tense. She didn’t trust the guy either.

But they needed information.

And Baker?

Baker had plenty to say.

The Warning

"You two ain’t from around here," Baker muttered, poking at the dying embers of the fire.

Daniel didn’t answer.

He wasn’t about to start giving details to some stranger in the woods.

Baker smirked. "Smart. Ain’t a lot of safe folks left these days."

Erin cut to the chase. "What’s west of here?"

Baker’s smirk faded.

"More bad news than good."

Daniel’s grip tightened on his revolver.

"Like what?"

Baker sighed. "Depends how far west you’re talkin’. If you mean Tennessee? Still some pockets of survivors. A few holdouts in the Smokies, but supplies are dryin’ up."

"And further?" Erin pressed.

Baker’s expression darkened.

"You don’t wanna go further."

Daniel leaned forward. "Why?"

Baker ran a hand over his beard.

"Because a war’s comin’."

The War They Didn’t See Coming

Erin frowned. "What do you mean, ‘a war’?"

Baker shook his head. "You two ain’t heard about Calloway?"

Daniel stiffened.

He had heard the name before.

From Erin.

From the rumors.

The militia—the one taking over towns, wiping out entire groups of survivors.

Baker saw his reaction and nodded grimly.

"Yeah. That son of a bitch is buildin’ an army."

Daniel exhaled slowly.

"How big?"

Baker scratched at his beard. "A few hundred fighters at least. Maybe more. They’re claimin’ land, taking prisoners, wiping out anyone who won’t kneel. They already own half the damn South."

Daniel and Erin exchanged a look.

Calloway’s reach was growing.

And they had just spent the last two weeks running straight toward it.

The Choice That Wasn’t a Choice

Daniel stared into the weak firelight, mind working fast.

They had two options.

Turn back. Head east again, into the mountains. Hide. But supplies were running low, and the militia was expanding faster than they could run.

Keep going west. Try to slip past the militia. But if Baker was right, they’d be walking into a war zone.

Neither choice was good.

But one of them was necessary.

Erin exhaled sharply. "I hate this."

Daniel smirked. "You and me both."

But they both knew what had to be done.

They weren’t turning back.

They had to push forward.

Straight into the fire.