The next morning, golden light spilled through the broken windows of the chapel. Dust floated in the air, dancing in silence. Michael stirred awake on the creaky wooden bench he'd passed out on, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He stretched with a groan and noticed Jennifer speaking quietly with Mago near the altar, a crude map laid out between them.
Michael dragged himself over, rubbing his eyes. "What are y'all up for this early in the morning?" he asked, voice still gravelly.
Mago gave his usual charming smile. "Ah, my dear boy, discussing guns and survival. A riveting morning, no?"
Jennifer looked up, her tone far less amused. "If we're going to kill Randal, we're going to need more firepower. A lot more. Guns, ammo, the whole damn armory if possible."
Mago nodded. "The only problem, of course, is that we don't know where to find any. This place isn't exactly brimming with generosity."
Jennifer tapped the map with her finger. "There could be an old town nearby. Something abandoned. If we get lucky, we might find a stash, or a shop, or hell—even a corpse with something usable."
Tali stumbled toward them, half-awake and yawning, her hoodie thrown loosely over her shoulder. "What about food?" she mumbled. "We're running low on that too."
Mago clapped his hands together. "Right then. We split up. Tali, Michael, and Heart—you three will scout for food. Jennifer, Josiah, and I will go scavenging for weapons."
Michael scoffed. "I'm fine with that. But Heart?" He raised a brow and tilted his head. "He's kinda—no, what am I saying—he's fucking useless."
Tali chuckled under her breath, Jennifer doing the same.
Mago, ever the diplomat, grinned. "Even the useless can surprise you, Michael. Sometimes the deadweight just needs the right burden to carry."
Michael rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. But if he gets himself killed, don't expect me to write a poem."
He walked over to where Heart was snoring loudly on a crooked bench, one arm dangling off the side. With a swift boot, Michael shoved him to the ground.
Heart shot up with a yelp. "WHAT IS YOUR GOD DAMN PROBLEM, MICHAEL?!"
Michael leaned down, unimpressed. "Get up, sweetheart. You're coming with me and Tali to look for food."
Heart groaned. "Why the hell me?!"
Tali crossed her arms. "Because we need warm bodies and yours still twitches. And if you slow us down, we'll leave you out there for the Hollowers to snack on."
Heart blinked. "That's comforting."
From across the room, Josiah sat up and stretched. "Ahh, music to my ears—Heart getting bullied first thing in the morning."
Heart pointed at him. "I'd stay outta this, my Russian friend."
Josiah ignored him and looked to Mago. "So, about the one that was up in the tree yesterday—what do we call those?"
Mago tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Crawlers."
Jennifer nodded. "Makes sense. But if we found it in the woods, do you think they only stick to forest areas?"
Josiah shrugged. "Probably. But we're not heading deep into the woods, just scanning for signs of life—or death."
Mago added, "Let's not forget—we are still in the woods. We'll just follow the path north, see if it leads us to anything that resembles civilization."
Dr. Luther walked in, wiping his hands with a blood-stained cloth. "And I'll keep a close eye on Marcel. He's healing, but barely. Don't want him dropping dead before he earns that second chance."
Michael's gaze drifted toward Marcus, who sat quietly in the corner, his small shoulders shaking, tears in his eyes. Fiona knelt beside him, whispering softly and stroking his hair.
"Don't you worry about people who don't care about you, baby," Fiona murmured. "You've got me. That's all you need."
Michael walked over, stopping beside her. She glanced up with tired but wary eyes. "What is it, Michael?" she asked, protective instinct already rising in her chest.
Michael knelt next to Marcus and gave Fiona a glance. "I was thinking… how about I bring the boy with us? Just to go hunting. Get him some air. Maybe let him feel like he matters again."
Fiona blinked, her expression softening. She looked at Marcus, who wiped his face quickly and looked between them.
"…You'll keep him safe?" she asked, voice low.
Michael nodded once, serious. "With my life."
Fiona hesitated… then nodded, placing a kiss on Marcus's forehead. "Alright. But he comes back in one piece. Or I break yours."
Michael smirked, offering Marcus a hand. "Come on, little man. Let's go find something worth eating."
The chapel doors creaked open as the group emerged into the soft morning light. The scent of dew and pine still clung to the air. Michael lifted Marcus up and gently placed him on his horse, adjusting the reins to keep the boy steady.
Heart furrowed his brow, slinging his rifle lazily over his shoulder. "Are you seriously bringing a child with us, Michael?"
Michael shot him a look. "You got a problem with it, Heart?"
"Yeah, I do actually," Heart replied, arms crossed. "He's a kid, not a pack mule."
Before the tension could rise, Tali swung herself up onto her horse, tossing a large pack behind her. "Oh shut up, old-head Heart," she said with a smirk.
Michael barked out a laugh. "Old-head Heart—hahaha! That's a good one."
"Call me old one more time and I swear I'll shoot an acorn off your head just to prove a point," Heart muttered.
Across the small clearing, Mago, Josiah, and Jennifer were already saddled up and ready, their silhouettes sharp against the rising sun.
"Good luck to you four," Mago called out with a mock salute. "And make sure nothing bad happens to Marcus. Or Fiona will turn you into soup."
Michael smirked and gave a nod. "We'll do. You lot stay alive too."
With that, the groups split—hooves thudding softly against the dirt as they rode off in opposite directions, disappearing between trees and fog.
As the forest closed around them, Tali looked over her shoulder. "We can head toward the river—try to catch some fish, gather berries, maybe hunt if we get lucky."
Heart groaned. "You do know there are bears in these woods, right, my darling?"
Tali snapped her head toward him. "First off, don't call me that. Second, you have a gun, don't you?"
Heart rolled his eyes. "Yeah—with, like, four bullets left. Meanwhile, you have a bow and arrow, which comes with infinite ammo, last time I checked."
"Yeah, but your gun can drop something twice my size in one shot," Tali retorted.
As they bickered, Michael stayed quiet, guiding his horse beside Marcus's. The boy sat with wide eyes, taking in the quiet beauty of the forest.
Michael smiled down at him. "So, Marcus… how do you like the chapel so far?"
Marcus hesitated, then gave a small nod. "It's good. I like it."
"Yeah?" Michael adjusted his reins. "That's good to hear. You get anything to eat or drink last night?"
Marcus looked down at the mane of the horse. "Yeah… when we was at the cabin, Momma gave me her last food and water."
Michael's chest tightened slightly, but he smiled anyway. "She's a good mother. Real good. You know… you're a good kid, too. You ain't done nothing wrong."
Marcus's eyes lit up a little. "Thank you, Mr. Michael."
They continued riding in silence for a moment. The forest around them glowed with golden light—sunbeams piercing through the trees like gentle blades, illuminating dancing motes of dust. Birds chirped and flitted between branches, the world so peaceful it almost felt… normal again.
For the first time in weeks, Michael let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still something left to live for.
But the illusion didn't last.
As they neared the riverbank, the sound of rushing water was soon joined by something else—wet, tearing noises. Buzzing flies. Low groans.
Tali was the first to spot them. She raised her hand, signaling the group to stop. Her voice dropped low. "What… happened here?"
They all saw it now.
Three Hollowers—gnarled and twisted, their skin stretched and pulsing—were hunched over mangled corpses. The torn remains of what looked like travelers littered the muddy riverbank. One body still had a backpack strapped on. Another had its hand outstretched toward the treeline, as if trying to crawl away.
Heart muttered, "They got killed by Hollowers, duh."
Michael narrowed his eyes. "Or shot at."
The wind picked up. One of the Hollowers paused… and slowly raised its head, blood dripping from its chin.