"Don't move," one of them—a man in his thirties, military-short haircut, tactical vest—barked. "Don't you dare to move."
"Wait, wait!" Reyan shouted, climbing the fence with one arm, his daughter clinging to his back. "Wait, don't shoot! He's with us! We're not infected!"
All four guns swung toward them.
"Hands up!" the woman commanded. She was younger, maybe mid-twenties, with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and a rifle that looked like she knew how to use it. "All of you, hands where we can see them!"
"We're not infected," Reyan repeated, slowly raising his free hand while his daughter wrapped her arms around his neck. "Look, we can talk. We're human. See? We're speaking. Forming sentences. The infected can't do that."
"Prove it," another man said—older, maybe fifty, with a graying beard and suspicious eyes.
"How the hell do we prove—"
"Dev," the woman said. "Check them."
The fourth member of their group—a young man, barely twenty, thin and nervous-looking—approached cautiously. He moved to Taj first, checking his eyes, his arms, looking for bite marks. Then to Samir. Then Vikram. Finally, to Reyan, who held perfectly still while Dev examined him and his daughter.
"Clear," Dev said, stepping back. "All clear."
The guns lowered, but didn't disappear entirely.
"Sorry," the military-looking man said, not sounding particularly sorry.
"You're heading somewhere. Supplies, weapons, purposeful movement. Where?"
"Vaishali District" Reyan said. "Looking for someone. His sister." He gestured at Samir.
"Which one's Samir?"
Samir raised his hand like a kid in class. "Hi. That's me. Samir. The one with the dead-inside eyes and the desperate need to find his sister."
The older man spoke up, his voice gravelly from years of smoking. "You got transport?"
"A car. In the basement parking garage." Reyan pointed back at the building. "We were heading there when..." He turned to Taj. "What the hell happened? Where did you go?"
Taj's face was pale, his hands shaking. "I... I saw them. My parents. They live in Kolkata. They...They shouldn't be here. They ca... can't be here. But I saw them, I swear I saw them, and I just... I followed. I know it's illogical. I know it doesn't make sense. But I saw them, and I... I followed."
Reyan's blood ran cold. Another hallucination. First him, now Taj. That wasn't coincidence. That was something else. Something worse.
But he couldn't think about that now. Not with strangers holding guns, not with infected everywhere, not with his daughter's arms tight around his neck.
"Thank you for saving him," Reyan said to the four strangers. "Really. Thank you. I'm Reyan, this is my daughter, that's Samir, Vikram, and Taj—who apparently has terrible survival instincts."
"I'm processing trauma through impulsive decisions," Taj muttered. "It's a valid coping mechanism."
The military man cracked a smile. "I'm Karan. That's Meera—" he gestured at the woman, "—Ravi—" the older man, "—and Dev." The young one. "We've been surviving together since day one. Had a camp set up in the old shopping complex, but it got overrun yesterday. We're heading towards Vaishali too, actually. Looking for one of those rumored safe zones."
"Safe zones?" Samir perked up. "There are safe zones?"
"Rumors," Meera corrected.
"Heard it on a ham radio two days ago," Karan said. "Broken transmission. Something about 'Vaishali district... safe zone... supplies.' Could be real. Could be a trap, could be anything. But it's better than staying here."
Reyan looked at his group, then at Karan's. "You want to come with us? Safety in numbers."
Karan and his people exchanged glances, some silent communication passing between them. Finally, Karan nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we'll come. You got a car?"
"It's a sedan." Reyan did the math. Nine people total. "What about you? You have transport?"
"We've got a truck. Flatbed. Parked two blocks over." Karan gestured vaguely north. "Four of us fit fine. You take your car, we take the truck, we convoy towards Vaishali together. Two vehicles means if one breaks down, we're not all doomed."
It made sense. More sense than Reyan wanted to admit. These were armed strangers, yes, but they'd saved Taj's life. And in this new world, allies were more valuable than gold.
"Okay," Reyan agreed. "We'll meet you at the north exit. Give us ten minutes to get to the car and bring it around."
"Make it five," Karan said. "The gunshots will have drawn more infected. This area won't be safe for long."