6. Sam
6
SAM
S am tugged at the collar of her jacket and pulled it higher against her neck, the texture of the worn leather pressing against her throat. In the faint dawn light, she listened to the gentle rustling noises coming from the cabins and yurts scattered within the walls of Fort Haven.
She was deep in thought. Much of what was playing through her mind was the idea she’d formed of her current whereabouts. She’d started to believe the place seemed as much a prison as it was a sanctuary. The exterior walls loomed high above her, jagged and uneven, marked by patches of moss and dried vines, but even these signs of life seemed to cling desperately to the decaying remnants of a once vibrant civilization. Sam held her breath slightly as she looked up. It wasn’t just the physical walls—it was the eyes. The endless pairs of eyes followed her wherever she went.
What do these guards want with me? I don’t get it.
She closed her own for a moment, trying to regain focus, but she could still sense that she was being observed. And closely. The people here weren’t like the nomads she’d gotten used to. They seemed to cling to their past lives, to what the world had been before it all fell apart. None of them had a clue what it meant to live outside these walls.
But here? Here, it was like they were still trying to claw back the world they had lost, and they were suspicious of anything—or anyone—that didn’t fit into what Sam thought of as their narrow vision.
Is this really living? I feel as if I'm on trial.
She heard the familiar creaking of Kara’s boots before she turned around. Kara had a distinct way of moving. She only had a slight frame but was heavier-footed than was perhaps advisable in a zombie apocalypse. It was a comforting sound, though…and about the only thing in this place that didn’t make Sam feel homesick. Kara knew Fort Haven much better than Sam did. She was used to the ways here. Kara carried herself around these people with ease. And they trusted her.
“Hey, babe. What’s up? You sleep okay?” Kara had such a soft way of speaking, but her voice also had a subtle strength that always grounded Sam somehow.
Sam shrugged, her eyes not meeting Kara’s. “I really needed some air. It was kinda stuffy in the cabin when I woke up.”
Kara stepped closer, her presence warm beside Sam in the morning chill. “Are you okay? You don’t seem okay.”
Sam wasn’t sure how to answer the question. How could she explain the claustrophobia creeping up her spine, the sensation of being trapped? Not just in the cabin, but in the place Kara saw as her home.
“I guess I’m fine,” she said, though she knew her voice was probably betraying her.
Kara’s brows hardened slightly. “Sam? You don’t have to pretend with me. That’s not what we’re about. Let’s try to keep this thing between us real, okay? You said we’re all about honesty.”
Sam let out a long breath as she scratched the back of her neck. “It’s…it’s just different here compared with what I’m used to. I don’t know how to explain it. Basically, I don’t fit with this environment. I feel trapped.”
“You’re not supposed to fit. We can’t all just magically become BFFs just because we all live together inside these walls. Who said you had to fit in, anyway? This place is safety, community, and a new life,” Kara said, leaning against the wall next to her. “You’re supposed to survive. And you know how to do that better than anyone.”
“Is that actually true, though?” Sam’s voice was tinged with doubt. “This isn’t really survival. I feel like I’m suffocating.”
Kara’s hand brushed Sam’s arm gently. “I know exactly what you’re saying. Fort Haven can feel a little like a cage at times. But the people here…they don’t have much of a clue what it’s like out there. Not really. They think they do. We all saw stuff at the beginning. We all lost people. But they haven’t seen half of what you’ve seen. Do you really prefer being out there, where the world is your enemy?”
Sam’s throat felt dry suddenly. Since the collapse of society, she had seen things that still haunted her dreams—the rapid rot of civilization and the way it became very quickly evident that the dead weren’t the only ones to fear. The things people did to survive had left scars on her mind, scars that Fort Haven, with its neat little cabins and polished facade could never erase.
“I miss the road,” Sam admitted, her voice quiet. “Don’t get me wrong. The solar-powered showers here are a thing of beauty. I mean, congratulations on the way you guys have put all this together. But I think I miss the freedom. This isn’t freedom, Kara. The simplicity of it. I knew who I was out there. I know we’ve not been here long, but it’s as if I’m wearing a mask. Like everyone is wearing a mask. The captain? What’s the deal there? Why do you all call her that? We are back to law and order, higher ranks and scum of the ground. Out there, it’s just survival and freedom.”
Kara nodded with understanding. “I miss it, too. But I need them, Sam. Fort Haven—this place…it’s been my lifeline. And the captain? She asked us to call her that. She’s the brains behind the outfit. The leader. Maybe it’s an authority thing. I’ve never really thought much about it. It’s just that there are rules here…and we need to stick by them. That’s why it works.”
Sam’s gaze fell to the ground, her eyes searching for something to focus on. Kara was sweet and kind, and in need of a home.
“What if we don’t need the rules? What if this place ends up grinding us down?”
Kara’s hand slid down to grasp Sam’s, her grip firm and steady. “I’ve not changed since I’ve been here. And I won’t let them change you…change us. Just give it a little longer. We can try to get the others here to try to make something more inviting for you.”
Slowly, Kara wrapped her arms around Sam, drawing her in for a tight hug.
“Come on,” Kara said, tugging her gently. “We’re heading outside today. And I need you focused.”
Sam snorted lightly. “I’m always focused.”
Kara laughed. “I know.”
The gate to Fort Haven groaned as it opened. Sam felt a familiar rush of adrenaline as she looked out onto the vast emptiness stretching out in front of them like a wound that refused to heal. The landscape was overgrown with weeds and wild vegetation reclaiming the land. In the distance, the silhouette of the mountains rose against the dark and foreboding sky.
The world beyond the walls was eerily quiet. There were no birds, no animals—just the faint rustle of wind.
What’s going on?
But she knew the silence was deceptive. The dead could be anywhere, lurking in the shadows, waiting. Sam knew better than to trust the quiet. Moments like these, the calm before the storm, could turn deadly in an instant.
Kara walked beside her, her steps confident and sure. Behind them, the rest of the group followed—five in total, including Riley, one of the captain’s sidekicks, who’d already made his disdain for Sam abundantly clear. Sam could feel his eyes on her even now, as if he was waiting for her to slip up, to give him a reason to rush to Laticia. Or to kill her on the spot.
“Stick to the plan,” Kara said under her breath so that only Sam could hear. “We’re just scouting an old army barracks out east. We’ll be in and out. The army has long gone, of course. The last time we went up there, the place was overrun with the infected, but Laticia thinks they’ll have moved on by now. Or they’ll be weaker.
Sam nodded, adjusting the strap of her backpack. The weight of her gear was familiar, comforting in a way that few things were anymore. Her fingers brushed the hilt of her knife, the cool metal a reminder of the countless times it had saved her and her friends’ lives.
As they walked, the remnants of the old world became more apparent—rusted signs, abandoned vehicles, and homes with shattered windows.
This was once someone’s home, someone’s life.
The barracks loomed ahead. Sam’s stomach twisted at the sight of it. The army had fallen soon after the outbreak. The cities and towns were overrun with the sick and dying, and people had turned violent. They’d been unable to contain the sheer volume of the infected. Sam imagined that soldiers must have gone AWOL in search of their loved ones until there was nothing left.
They approached the entrance cautiously, weapons drawn. Sam’s eyes scanned the area for any signs of movement, and her senses were on high alert.
Kara signaled for them to split into two groups. She and Sam would take the east wing while Riley and the others covered the west. Sam was grateful for the distance from Riley. His presence had been grating on her since they’d left Fort Haven.
As they entered the building, the stench of decay hit Sam like a wave. The air was thick with the smell of rot and mildew, the floor slick with what looked like dried blood. It never got any easier to smell the undead. She fought back the urge to gag, focusing instead on the task at hand.
“Stay close. I want you right here next to me,” Kara said. Her command was unmistakable, and Sam couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed by it.
Sam nodded despite herself. It felt as though the air itself was resisting her lungs. For the first time in a long while, fear gnawed at the edges of her composure. It wasn’t fear of the infected. She’d grown used to them over time. It was something far more complicated. It was the fear of being inadequate, of making the wrong decision…and of Riley thinking he was right about her. And the fear of her feelings towards another human. Life was easier when others meant less. Her body felt taut, every muscle alert as she anticipated what would come next.
“How many people do you think died here?” Sam muttered, though her voice was so small it almost didn’t sound like her own.
Kara’s eyes flicked briefly toward her, scanning her face before returning to the darkened corridors ahead. “Too many,” she replied, the weight of past deaths echoing in her words. The sound of it settled like a cold hand against Sam’s spine.
The silence between them stretched out, punctuated only by the soft pats of their footsteps on the hard concrete floor. Sam’s heart was a drumbeat in her ears, loud and relentless, like a countdown she couldn’t stop. She wanted desperately to run out of there, to turn back, but couldn’t let herself. They needed the supplies. She knew Fort Haven depended on these runs, and more than that, Kara depended on her.
This place isn’t right. Something’s up.
A faint, almost imperceptible noise echoed from somewhere down the hall, pulling Sam from her spiraling thoughts. She came to an immediate standstill, the sound threading through the stale air—soft shuffling, the kind only human feet could make.
“What was that? I heard something,” Sam whispered, her entire body tensing up as she crouched down to the floor, trying to make herself smaller.
Kara’s jaw clenched. She nodded once, her hand instinctively moving toward her machete. “Get up. Stay sharp.”
The hallway seemed to grow narrower, the shadows deeper as they inched forward. The cold that permeated the building was different now—it wasn’t just the absence of warmth—it was the presence of death. Sam’s skin prickled.
When they reached the double doors at the end of the hall, Sam’s hand trembled slightly as she gripped the handle. The metal felt like ice. Her breath caught in her throat as the door creaked open, the sound seeming too loud in this place of ghosts.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and there, huddled in the corner under a blanket, was the source of the sound. A person. Alive, barely, but alive.
Sam’s heart thudded louder. Her fear flipped her stomach, the jolting sensation almost causing her to gag. The woman’s ragged breathing was the only thing filling the silence, each wheeze like a plea for help. As Sam took in the sight of her—the gaunt, hollow-eyed face, the skin stretched tightly over brittle bones.
Is she still alive?
She looked to Kara, who was rushing toward the woman, her face a mask of concern. The woman’s lips parted, a cracked whisper escaping them: “Help…me.”
Kara’s hand moved forward to help her. “We need to get her out of here,” she said, turning back with a confused look on her face as she spotted Sam, who had failed to make her way fully into the room.
Sam’s pulse thudded in her neck. It was getting faster. Faster. Her instincts screamed at her that this wasn’t a good idea. Her mind raced. What were their options here?
None. There are no options.
The woman was too weak, too far gone. And there, at the base of her neck, hidden beneath the layers of grime and blood, Sam noticed it—the unmistakable bruise-like streak of infection.
We’re too late. She’s infected.
Kara hadn’t seen it yet, but Sam knew there was no time to explain and certainly no time for debate. She stepped forward and strode toward the frail form of a woman. The infected blinked up at her, eyes filled with desperation, a faint flicker of hope in their hollow depths.
Sam’s chest constricted. She deeply felt the burden of what she was about to do. She was angry that the decision she was about to make fell heavily onto her shoulders alone. But she couldn’t have the luxury of anger. Not here. Not now.
“Sam, help her up. What are you doing?” But Sam barely registered what Kara was asking of her.
Without a word, Sam pulled out her knife. The weight of it in her hand felt good. She was momentarily in total control. Kara’s head snapped toward her, eyes wide with confusion, but Sam was already in motion.
The woman’s gaze shifted to the blade, and in that split second, it was clear that she understood her fate. She let out a strangled gasp, but it was too late.
Sam’s hand moved swiftly, the blade pushing into the woman’s throat, allowing her to drop unconscious before pushing the blade into the side of her head.
The world around Sam seemed to slow. Kara’s voice broke through Sam’s mental fog. “What the hell?”
“She was infected,” Sam said, her voice hoarse as she held back her tears. She kept her gaze steady as she spoke. “I saw the signs. It was so obvious.”
For a moment, Kara just stared at her in disbelief. Sam could feel the intensity of her gaze burning into her, but she didn’t flinch. She couldn’t. She’d done what had to be done.
From behind them, Riley’s voice cut through the silent tension like a jagged blade. “Tough call,” he said with disdain, but there was something else there, too—a reluctant respect. “I guess you’ve got the stomach for this after all.”
Sam’s muscles tightened, bracing for the verbal assault she knew was coming. But there was nothing. Riley didn’t move in for the kill as she expected. He stood there, sizing her up, his eyes hard and calculating.
“I told you this ain't my first rodeo,” Sam said, shrugging her shoulders and raising her palms to the sky, “I can make tough calls.”
Riley’s lip curled as his eyes flicked briefly to the dead woman at her feet. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing before he turned away with a grunt. Come on. “Let’s get moving. There’s no time to waste.”
Sam’s breath left her in a slow exhale, her body still vibrating with adrenaline. Kara’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, searching her face for... For what? Was she looking for signs of remorse or guilt? If so, she wasn’t going to find anything. All Sam could feel was the cold, hard certainty of survival.
Without saying a word to each other, they left the room and made their way back through the dark, decaying corridors. The silence between them was thick, but Sam didn’t let it bother her. She’d done what needed to be done. That was all that mattered.