Having finally reached a decision, a small figure stepped out from the shadows of the building across the street. Initially just a blur, the form soon became distinct: a young girl with long, tangled hair and clothes covered in grime. Her eyes followed Thuong Sinh's group with a mixture of wariness and fierce determination.
The team remained silent, watching her as she approached step by step. When she was close enough to speak, she paused to catch her breath. Her voice trembled but was audible: "Are... are you with the military? Can you... can you give me some food? My siblings have nothing left to eat."
The group listened patiently until she finished, their expressions softening in unison. Van Binh stepped forward with a smirk, but the girl instinctively recoiled a step.
"Don't be afraid. I'll give you some food. Do you live in that building over there?"
The girl nodded hesitantly. The group understood immediately. Thanh Dao stepped forward this time; facing a beautiful woman, the girl naturally lowered her guard. Thanh Dao smiled and handed her a chocolate bar.
The girl stared at it for a long moment before accepting it with a whispered thanks, then turned and bolted back toward the house. Van Thieu looked at the team and decided, "Let's go take a look."
Thuong Sinh's group followed her, their footsteps light on the aging floor. Inside the house, it was dark, and the smell of mold mingled with thick dust. As they drew near, the girl stopped and pushed open a decrepit door. Inside, a boy and a girl sat huddled in a corner, their eyes red from hunger and fear.
They watched the team cautiously, having little strength left to flee. Van Thieu led the way, pushing the door gently to let the group in while maintaining a respectful distance.
Van Binh approached first, holding out a prepared food container: "Eat up. No one is going to hurt you."
The girl's hand trembled as she looked back at her siblings. She took the food, opened it, and fed them first before taking small bites herself. Thanh Dao stood near the children, her eyes gentle as she witnessed their starvation.
"Where are your parents?"
Van Thieu's voice was not loud, but deep enough to make the room go still.
The eldest girl froze, her hand mid-air. She slowly put down the half-eaten biscuit. Her gaze dropped, and after a long silence, she spoke in a small, raspy voice: "Father... is dead."
"He was infected while looking for food."
She hesitated, swallowed hard, and continued, each word falling heavily on the floor: "Mother went missing. Three days ago. She went out to find medicine for the youngest and never came back."
In the corner, the smallest child hugged their knees, eyes red but not crying, silently chewing as if afraid that eating too fast would make the food disappear forever. No one in the team spoke; the atmosphere in the cramped room felt suffocating, and the smell of mold seemed to grow more pungent.
Van Binh leaned against the wall, his usual grin long gone, replaced by a darkened gaze. He let out a soft breath and looked away. Thanh Dao knelt and placed a bottle of water before the children with slow, careful movements. Lam Thanh Moc clenched her hand, her vines twitching briefly at her feet before going still.
Thuong Sinh stood at the very back, silent throughout. He watched the children for a long time, then slowly shifted his gaze toward the rotting wooden door at the back of the room, where the shadows were deepest.
After a while, he spoke: "You aren't safe here."
The girl looked up immediately, panic flashing in her eyes: "We... we have nowhere else to go."
Thuong Sinh didn't look at her, his voice remaining calm: "We will report this location."
"Someone will come for you," Van Thieu added decisively. "In a day or two, a military unit will arrive here, and you will be taken away."
The girl was stunned, taking a few seconds to process the news. Her eyes turned red, but she didn't cry. She bowed her head low: "Thank you."
Outside, the light from the window had turned a deep orange. The sun was dipping behind the ruins, and darkness was rising. Thanh Dao glanced out the window and whispered, "It's almost dark."
The words were soft, but everyone understood. Van Thieu looked outside, assessing the surroundings, then shook his head. "It's not safe to leave now. This area is prone to wandering hordes at night."
He looked back at the huddling children. His gaze softened for a beat, then he spoke firmly: "We stay here for the night. We move at dawn."
No one objected. Van Binh shrugged with a grin, "A free night's stay then. Consider us night guards for the little ones."
Lam Thanh Moc nodded, her vines silently crawling up the broken window frames, sealing the gaps and reinforcing the entry points. Thanh Dao checked the surrounding rooms, marking entrances with a vigilant but less tense gaze.
Thuong Sinh leaned against the entrance, watching the sky darken. The wind carried the smell of dust and rust. He looked at the children once more, his eyes resting on the eldest girl. She sat close to her younger siblings, acting as a small but determined shield.
"Rest tonight," Thuong Sinh said, his voice low. "There is nothing to fear."
The girl looked up at him, blinked hesitantly, then nodded firmly. Darkness finally swallowed the sunset. Outside, the ruined city fell silent, save for the wind whistling through the shattered windows. Inside, a group of survivors and children sat under a makeshift shelter, sharing what little light remained.
The next morning.
Thuong Sinh was the first to wake. He stood up quietly and stepped out onto the porch. The street before him was unnaturally quiet—no zombies, no wind, only a dead silence.
He frowned. Too quiet.
Van Thieu followed soon after, holding a simple tracking device. He glanced at the screen while observing the ground, then suddenly stopped.
"Footprints."
Not just a few, but many. Shoe prints were layered over one another, stretching down the western alley. There were tire tracks and signs of heavy dragging, as if people had been forcibly pulled away. Torn fragments of fabric were scattered in a few spots.
Van Binh leaned down to look, whispering, "This wasn't people running in panic."
Thanh Dao stood behind them, her sensory ability active. Her expression slowly shifted. "It's not just one group," she said softly. "At least three small units, moving in a serpent formation... circling out, then closing in."
The word "serpent" caused the atmosphere to plummet. Lam Thanh Moc swallowed hard: "It's like they're hunting."
Thuong Sinh said nothing, but his eyes turned icy. He walked over to a faint carving on the concrete wall of the alley—a simple symbol painted in faded dark green. A winding, curved line, sharp at the head, twisted in the body.
No explanation was needed. Van Thieu exhaled slowly: "Thanh Xà (Green Snake)."
Just then, the girl from yesterday stepped out of the house. When she saw the symbol, her face paled visibly. "They were here," she said in a tiny voice. "They didn't enter the house, but they marked it."
The group fell silent. A mark meant it wasn't yet time for the harvest.
Van Binh narrowed his eyes, a mirthless smile on his face: "It seems we've stepped on the snake's tail."
The team packed up, leaving enough food and water for the children to last three days, and headed out toward the tire tracks. The early morning air was cold. Thin mist mixed with dust hung in the air, and deep tire tracks were imprinted in the dust, not yet erased by the wind. There were multiple heavy, fast-moving vehicles carrying significant loads.
Van Thieu knelt to touch a track. "Less than half a day old. At least two vehicles."
Thanh Dao stood beside him, her eyes half-closed as she extended her sensory reach along the tracks. She opened her eyes, frowning. "There are people, quite a few, moving with caution."
Van Binh cracked his knuckles and smirked. "Doesn't look like a patrol. This scent smells like the underworld."
So Sinh looked southwest, where the buildings grew shorter, replaced by old warehouses and abandoned parking lots. "They didn't go straight; they circled intentionally. Maybe they're afraid of being followed, or they're luring something."
Thuong Sinh remained silent throughout. He stood at the rear, eyes fixed on the tracks before looking ahead. In that moment, he felt a strange familiarity—as if eyes were watching them.
"We've entered their range," he said softly.
Van Thieu stood up, brushing the dust off his hands. "Maintain formation. No need to rush. If Green Snake is truly nearby, he won't let us get too far."
The group pressed on. The tire tracks led them through a narrow street and into an old warehouse district. Rusted iron doors hung ajar, revealing dark interiors and the pungent smell of old engine oil and mold.
Suddenly—Thanh Dao signaled a halt. "Someone is above."
Almost simultaneously, a raspy laugh echoed from the roof of the warehouse ahead.
"Not bad at all."
The voice was drawn out and slow, like a snake sliding through sand. "Tracing your way here from those nameless pawns."
On the warehouse roof, a figure leaned against a broken railing, his long dark green coat fluttering in the wind. Under the dim light, a winding tattoo on his wrist was clearly visible: a snake with an open mouth, eyes cold as ice.
"I thought I'd have to wait longer." He tilted his head, his gaze locking onto Thuong Sinh. "I didn't expect to run into such interesting people."
The air instantly froze. Van Binh smirked and took half a step forward, his laughter undisguised: "Looks like the owner of the tail we stepped on has shown his face."
The figure above chuckled softly.
"Thanh Xà," he said, his voice as light as a feather. "Welcome to my territory."
The wind blew through the empty warehouse, swirling dust and dry leaves between the two sides.