A new start

Chapter 2: Days gone by.

“I don’t like this,” Priya muttered, walking a few steps behind us as we approached the towering wooden walls of the so-called safe haven.
“Me neither,” I admitted, my eyes scanning the structure ahead. Shadows moved behind the barriers, faint but unsettling.
“Well, we don’t have much choice, do we?” Garrett said, his voice steady as he led the way. “We’re low on supplies, and staying on the move isn’t sustainable anymore. Communities like this are popping up, and this one’s our best shot. Just… try to play nice, alright?”
His words rang true, though none of us wanted to admit it. After the outbreak, survivors scattered from the cities, carving out makeshift communities with family, friends, or even strangers. Four grueling months on the road had taught us what we were up against.
The infected weren’t just mindless husks. They were predators, driven by an insatiable hunger. Walkers, sluggish, decaying corpses. Were the more resilient of the two types. Only destroying their brains would stop them. They were the older infected, the virus fully entrenched in their lifeless bodies. The fresh ones, the runners, were something else entirely, fast, erratic, and infinitely more dangerous. They were the worst to face in open ground.
By the fourth month, we hit the same wall as every survivor: shelter and supplies were running out. Scavenging became a gamble, with walkers multiplying and supplies growing scarce. Garrett had suggested a bold plan, a long shot, really. He’d spotted a radio tower a few miles back, and we decided to see if it could still transmit. Somehow, luck was on our side that day.
Not only did we get the tower working, but we also made contact. A woman responded, introducing herself as part of a community called “Oasis.” It was nestled in a small town on the outskirts of Los Angeles, fortified by tall wooden walls and guarded against infected and raiders. According to her, when the outbreak began, the townsfolk had worked together to secure their home rather than flee. They were even open to newcomers, provided they passed a vetting process and were willing to contribute.
Garrett was optimistic, though Priya and I couldn’t shake our unease. It all sounded too good to be true. Still, desperation overrode doubt. We agreed to meet them.
“Can we trust this person?” Priya asked, her tone sharp with skepticism. She glanced at Garrett, her brother, then shifted her gaze back toward the barricade.
“Her name’s Mirabelle,” Garrett replied with a grin.
“And?”
“And she seemed nice. I’ve already told you everything I know, so why the third degree?” He rolled his eyes.
Before he could say more, a loud crack split the air, a bullet embedding itself in the dirt at our feet.
“That’s far enough!” A man’s voice barked from above.

The tension was palpable as Garrett raised his hands slightly, his smile strained but steady. “Hey there! We’re the new guys!”
The man atop the barricade, didn’t lower his rifle. His gaze was sharp, unyielding, his long hair partially obscuring a rugged, weathered face. A short beard framed his mouth, and a faded navy jacket adorned with medals hinted at a military background. “The fuck you on about?” The man snapped, his voice gruff. “We’re waiting for nobody!”
I shifted uneasily, fingers twitching toward my holstered gun, but Garrett’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist firmly. His silent warning was clear: don’t make it worse.
“I don’t like this, Garrett,” I muttered under my breath, glancing up at the barricade where two more guards had joined the leader. Their weapons were aimed squarely at us. “How sure are you about this Mirabelle?”
“Relax,” Garrett said, his voice calm despite the tension. “I’ve got this.”
He took a step forward, his tone turning conversational. “Look, my name’s Garrett—”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are!” He cut him off, his rifle steady, his finger hovering over the trigger. “I’m counting to ten. If you’re still standing there when I’m done, I’ll put you down. Ten.”
“Listen, man,” I interjected, my voice tight. “We spoke with someone on the radio, a woman. Mirabelle. She invited us here.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man's tone was icy. “Nine.”
Priya clung to Garrett’s arm, her knuckles white.
“Eight,” He barked, his rifle trained directly on me now.
The situation felt like a coil tightening around us, ready to snap. I was about to argue again when a sharp voice interrupted.
“Barker! What the hell are you doing?!”
A figure appeared above the barricade, stepping into view with a commanding presence. A woman with jet-black hair tucked beneath a red beanie stared down at us, her blue winter jacket catching the fading sunlight. She exuded an air of authority and confidence, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
“Doing my job, Mirabelle,” Barker replied, his gaze still fixed on us. “Seven.”
“Stand down,” she ordered, her tone firm but measured.
Her eyes flicked to Garrett, and her expression softened. “Hey, you’re Garrett, right?” she called down, a smile breaking through her stern demeanor.
“The one and only!” Garrett replied, his grin returning.
Mirabelle waved warmly. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Barker scoffed, his rifle unwavering. “Speak for yourself. Six.”
“Barker,” Mirabelle snapped, her tone sharpening. “Stop being such an asshole for five seconds, would you?”
Barker’s jaw tightened, but his stance didn’t falter. “You know the rules. No one gets in without Gavin’s approval.”
“And Gavin already signed off on this.” Mirabelle pulled a folded piece of paper from her jacket, holding it up. “Here’s the proof. If you don’t believe me, go ask him yourself.”
Barker hesitated, his cold eyes scanning the document before he finally lowered his weapon. “Fine. But if they screw up, they’re your problem,” he muttered before motioning to the other guards to open the gate.
Mirabelle exhaled audibly as the heavy wooden gates creaked open. “Hey, hang tight,” she called down to us. “I’m coming down to greet you.”
“Well, she seems cheerful,” I said with a chuckle, the tension in my chest easing slightly.
“Compared to Rambo up there? Yeah, for sure,” Priya muttered, her glare fixed on Barker as he disappeared from view.
A few moments later, Mirabelle stepped through the gates, her smile warm but her eyes sharp as she took us in. “Hey there! Pleased to meet you all.” She raised her hand in a peace sign. “I’m Mirabelle.”
“Garrett,” he said, stepping forward with his usual confidence. “The guy on the radio.”
“I thought I recognized your voice.” She grinned, then turned her attention to Priya and me. Her gaze lingered, studying us with careful precision. “And who might you two be?”
“I’m Nathan,” I said, extending a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Her handshake was firm, her smile unwavering. “Pleased to meet you too, Nathan.” She turned to Priya, her gaze flickering between her and Garrett. “You two look alike. Siblings?”
Priya smirked. “Yeah. He’s my big brother. I’m Priya. Nice to meet you.”
Mirabelle chuckled. “Likewise. So, what do you know about us?”
“Not much,” I admitted. “Just what you told Garrett. But it looks like you’ve got your act together. That guy up there, Barker, he’s military, right?”
Mirabelle raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Good eye. Barker was a soldier. Most of our leadership is ex-military. When they lost contact with their HQ on their exodus out of LA, we offered them shelter, and they’ve been helping us ever since.”
She gestured to our weapons. “You three seem pretty familiar with firearms. Soldiers? Cops?”
Garrett smirked. “Something like that. Nathan here was in a specialized branch of the army. Not that it matters much now. There’s no military or government left.”
Mirabelle nodded, her expression turning serious. “We don’t tolerate trouble here. We’ve worked hard to build a sense of normalcy in this chaos, and we’re not about to lose it. Understand?”
I met her gaze, my voice steady. “You gave us a chance. It’s only fair we earn it. If you’ll have us, we’ll do our part.”
Her smile returned, though her eyes still held a hint of caution. “Good. Welcome to Wingston, or as we call it these days, Oasis.”