Stanley didn't stop running until he was out of breath.
He passed through two streets, then a third, slowing down only when the sound behind him faded completely. He crouched behind the low wall, trying to steady his breathing.
"Fuck..."
His shoulder ached from the pain from before. He sat still for a moment, remembering the dead body he saw inside the house.
That woman... was murdered. He knew that very well, and it had happened a few minutes before.
His head snapped up suddenly. A mechanical sound overhead.
Stanley froze.
The sound slid overhead, then circled back. He pressed himself lower, pulling his bag close. His pulse thudded in his ears, loud enough that he worried it might give him away.
The drone drifted into view at the end of the street. It was moving at a slow pace, the red eye sweeping across the streets and houses, as if it was searching for something.
Stanley slowed his breathing.
The drone passed the mouth of the alley and paused. The sound deepened slightly. Stanley felt it in his chest. He lowered his head and focused on the cracked pavement inches from his face.
I don't want to run a marathon again.
The drone waited. Seconds stretched slowly as Stanley counted his breaths.
Then the drone drifted, red light sliding away, disappearing past the corner. The sound faded with it, leaving the street empty again.
Stanley waited longer than necessary.
When he finally stood, his legs felt tight, like they didn't fully belong to him yet. He moved slower now, keeping to the shadows, watching the sky more than the ground.
That's when he noticed the group.
Seven people crossed the next intersection in formation. One in front, one behind, the rest tight in the middle.
Stanley slowed and followed at a distance.
They carried metal. Long pieces shaped with intent. Curved plates. Reinforced joints. Long metal parts.
That mechanical robot and drone.
The group stopped at a corner. The one in front raised a hand. The others halted instantly. Two peeled off, checked side streets, then waved them through.
Stanley stayed behind a parked truck and watched them walk away. Something still felt off about them, like they were watching their surroundings. It didn't feel like normal scavenging.
Someone might've ordered them.
Stanley backed away carefully, trying not to make any noise.
Someone's definitely cooking something big, that's for sure.
He moved his legs again in search of the right place. He crossed the alleys, peered his gaze onto some broken windows, until he found himself in the open again.
Then he heard voices. It wasn't far ahead, so he followed. He stopped behind the bus when the sound became clear.
Seven to eight people stood there. Some leaned against the storefront, some sat on the curb there. Metal tools laid beside them. But the thing that most stood out for Stanley was that they didn't look tense. They were having a normal conversation.
Another group, but not on patrol.
Stanley weighed it. Moving past them would mean crossing open ground. Turning back would mean circling again, burning time and energy he didn't have much of.
He took a breath and walked forward. Heads turned as he got closer. A few eyes watched him for a moment, but no one raised a weapon. No one pointed him out.
Stanley stopped a short distance away.
The conversation didn't stop. A woman laughed at something. A man shook his head and replied. The tension never quite returned to where it had been before, but it didn't spike either.
Then one of them shifted position. Stanley caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and looked again.
That's Rick.
Stanley blinked again just to make sure.
It is him.
Rick stood near the back of the group, arms folded, listening instead of talking. He looked tired, but alive.
Of course he's alive.
Rick's gaze moved across the street and locked onto Stanley.
He froze for a moment, his posture changing.
The memories of the previous night played on Stanley's mind once again.
Rick excused himself from the group and walked toward him. He approached slowly, as if trying not to make things too obvious.
Rick stopped a step away from him. For a moment, both stayed silent.
"Jin."
"Rick."
Rick let out a breath. "So you made it."
"Yeah, somehow," Stanley replied. "You also look like you managed to get out safely."
"Safely, yeah..." Rick said faintly. He looked like someone who still hadn't escaped the nightmare from the tunnel. His eyes moved past Stanley as if looking for someone.
"Where's Rin?" He instantly regretted asking this question.
"She didn't make it," Stanley confirmed his assumption.
Rick's eyes dropped low, palms rolling into fists. He kicked the ground. "It was all my fault."
"No, it wasn't."
"I know, right? If I hadn't taken you two to the subway... she would've been alive."
"We agreed to come with you. That's on us, not you."
"But still…"
"There's nothing we could have done. No one knew things would go that badly," Stanley breathed out slightly. "No one is at fault. Some things just happen, and we can do nothing about it."
"Yeah..." Rick lifted his head slowly. "I guess you're right."
Silence fell between them for a moment, amidst the noise of the group pressing in around them. Rick turned toward the group.
"When did you arrive here?" Stanley asked.
"This morning. After escaping the tunnel, I ran around the city all night. Then I found them."
Stanley nodded slightly, as he saw the group's conversation starting to wind down. One of them glanced at Rick and gestured for him to move.
Rick sighed once and turned to Stanley, "This is it, I suppose."
He took a step forward.
"Can I tag along?"
Rick stopped quickly. "Yea—" he stopped himself, then said, "Are you sure?"
"Not really, but it's better than wandering aimlessly around the city, right?"
"Yeah... But what if something happens?"
"Then it's all on me again. You don't have to blame yourself for anything that happens to me or to anyone."
"Guess you're right again." Rick smiled weakly.
They moved together, following the group behind.
"I forgot to mention, but there's a leader in this group," Rick said in a low voice.
"Alright." Stanley nodded. "I'll keep my mouth shut."
"No, no. You don't have to. The leader there is a good guy. He watches over everyone, and people seem to like him."
"What do you think of him personally?"
"Personally?" Rick raised his head to the sky. "I don't really want to say honestly. When I arrived, he didn't ask me much. He seemed ordinary to me, but one thing—the guy was very easygoing."
"Easygoing?"