The amplified voice boomed across the deserted parking lot, freezing Ethan and Marcus in their tracks. Ethan slowly raised his hands, the hatchet still loosely gripped in his right, though he made no threatening move. Marcus, startled, dropped his wrench with a clang.
On the rooftop of the hardware store, the woman, clearly Sergeant Anya Sharma, lowered her rifle slightly but kept it trained on them. The man with the crossbow, who must be Jax, remained perfectly still, his aim unwavering.
"Drop the hatchet," Anya commanded, her voice firm, no longer crackling. "Slowly."
Ethan hesitated, then slowly lowered the hatchet, letting it rest on the asphalt by his feet. He met Anya's gaze, trying to convey a lack of threat, but also a quiet defiance. He wasn't some helpless victim.
"Who are you?" Anya called down. "And what are you doing back here?"
"My name's Ethan James," Ethan replied, his voice clear. "This is Marcus Thorne. We're scavenging. We just got here from a fortified house a few blocks away. You?"
"Sergeant Anya Sharma, U.S. Army," she stated, her posture military-sharp even on a precarious rooftop. "That's Jax. We're holed up in the military surplus store. We heard you working. Thought you were scavengers... or worse." She paused. "You handled those shamblers pretty well."
Ethan didn't acknowledge the compliment directly. "We need supplies. We have a group of six others, including a teacher and some younger kids. We heard your radio broadcast. You said you needed ammo?"
Anya exchanged a quick glance with Jax. The tension was still high, but something in Ethan's directness, perhaps the mention of a teacher and kids, seemed to shift her stance. "We do. And we're low on food too. The supermarket was a bust for us, too many of them inside. Didn't risk it."
"We just filled our bags from that overturned delivery truck," Marcus interjected, pointing to their backpacks. "Canned goods, water, rice."
Anya's eyes flickered to the full backpacks. A glimmer of hope, or at least calculation, entered her gaze. "Alright," she called down. "Walk forward, slowly. One at a time. No sudden moves. Keep your hands visible."
Ethan picked up his hatchet and crowbar, then slung his backpack tighter. He led the way, walking slowly towards the hardware store, Marcus following close behind. As they neared the entrance, a heavy steel door slid open a crack.
Inside, the surplus store was a labyrinth of shelves stacked with military gear, camping equipment, and survival supplies. It was dusty, but surprisingly intact. Jax was at the door, crossbow ready, while Anya covered them from a small, fortified observation post above the main entrance.
"Empty your bags on that table," Jax grunted, gesturing to a sturdy workbench. He was a gruff man, heavily built, with a grizzled beard and watchful eyes.
Ethan and Marcus complied, spilling their scavenged bounty. Canned peaches, green beans, bottles of water, rice, a small first-aid kit. Anya descended from her post, her rifle still held loosely, but no longer aimed.
"Decent haul," she admitted, inspecting the goods. "Alright. We're not usually this... trusting. But your story about the kids, and hearing the Brute from your direction... it makes sense. We could use the help. And you could use some expertise."
"You said you're military?" Ethan asked.
"Sergeant First Class, formerly," Anya corrected. "And Jax here, he was a park ranger. Good with a bow and traps. We've been holed up here since the initial outbreak. This building is solid, reinforced walls, limited entry points. But we're limited on long-term supplies. And we're pinned by the horde in the main parking lot."
Ethan looked at the sheer volume of equipment around them. This place was a potential goldmine, a proper fortress. "We have a generator, and some fuel," Ethan offered. "And we reinforced Marcus's house pretty well. It's not as strong as this, but it's defensible for now."
Anya's eyebrows raised slightly. "A generator, huh? That's a game-changer. We've been running on solar panels, but they're not always reliable. Look, this isn't an offer for a handshake and a song. This is a proposal. We have a defensible position, training, and some gear. You have fresh supplies, a generator, and… well, you handle yourself pretty well out there for a kid." She glanced at the hatchet. "And you said you have a group. Kids. They need safety."
Ethan thought of Mr. Henderson, Chloe, Lily, Sam, and Jasmine. They needed more than just a temporarily fortified house. They needed a chance at a real future.
"What's your proposal?" Ethan asked, his voice steady.
"An alliance," Anya stated, her gaze direct. "We combine forces. Your group comes here. We fortify this place further, share resources, and work together. We'll teach you what we know about survival, defense, and combat. In return, you bring your supplies, your generator, and your… particular set of skills." She nodded towards him meaningfully, suggesting she sensed something unique about his combat abilities, though she couldn't know about the System. "And your knowledge of the local area."
Ethan considered it. It was risky, joining up with strangers, even soldiers. But the alternative was slow starvation or being overwhelmed. And the idea of learning, of having actual training, was incredibly appealing given his System's reliance on combat.
"We accept," Ethan said, making the decision for his group. He knew they would agree. They needed this.
Anya gave a faint, professional nod. "Good. First order of business: we need to get your people here. That won't be easy with the horde between us."