When bad people come knocking

"I just-" Claire is cut short as a small can-like thing breaks through the front window. The next thing you know is the ringing in your ears as the thing explodes in a blinding light. A flash grenade! You clench your eyes shut and scream out in pain upon moving your arm again. Before you've realised it, the caravan door bursts open as a few men storm in. The men are covered from head to toe in plain black tactical gear; helmets, gas masks, body armour, and AR-15 style rifles.

Finally managing to get your eyes open you notice Claire pinned on the floor as they handcuff her hands behind her back. "Let her go." You blurt out through gritted teeth before noticing the barrel of a rifle aimed at your head. One of the men stands next to the bed keeping his gun trained on you as the others gag her and hoist her out of the caravan with ease. Another man walks in, this time with his face on full display.

Naturally gray buzz cut hair and a slightly wrinkled face suggests the man is quite old, the various scars over his face suggests he's also very experienced. His steel blue eyes gave you a sad once over before he pursued his dry lips. "I'm afraid we cannot do that son." The man says boldly with a hint of regret barely surfacing. He turns to the other man still with you. "Leave us." The armed man salutes and leaves the caravan, and leaves you alone with the old man.

"What are you doing?" You ask, suppressing your groan as you do. The man holds his hands behind his back and paces the length of the caravan.

"Saving humanity." He pauses and adds quietly, "what will be left of it anyway." He steps close to the bed and looks you over again. "What happened to you?"

"I got shot." You say matter of factly. "I was fighting a zombie and one of my group saved me." He takes a moment to contemplate in silence.

"It looks like they patched you up as best as they could. But we can't take you with us. In all honesty we can't waste our medical resources on a kid." He goes to the door and looks back in one more time. "I'm sorry son." And with that he takes his leave.

There's yelling as soon as the man leaves followed by an echoing gunshot. You struggle to get up and get your boots on, but with shaky legs you finally manage to grab your tshirt and get to the door as you slip it on leaving your injured arm out of the sleeve. Stepping warily outside you walk around the side of the building just in time to see multiple armoured jeeps and the van drive away down the road.

You get to the front of the store while bracing yourself against the wall along the way. A few steps away from the entrance is Megan, who lies face down with a pool of blood forming around her body. With your good arm you roll her towards you, onto her back. Her teary eyes look pleadingly up at you as she coughs up a bit of blood, a wary hand reaches for you. You slump to your knees and grasp it tightly.

Her other hand comes over her bloodied body to you as well, holding your pistol in it. She holds your eyes in firm stare. You gulp reflexively as you let go of her heavy hand. You grip the cold handle of the pistol, this time it feels much heavier than it first did. "Are... you sure?" You hesitantly ask.

She gives you a slow nod followed by a gurgling, "Yes..."

"I'm... I'm sorry Megan..." You rest the heavy gun against her temple and scrunch your eyes shut. Your hand shakes. A tear forms in the corner of your eyes. Her hand squeezes your knee. You squeeze the trigger.

Another echoing gunshot.

You scream out. Eyes still scrunched shut to avoid what happened. Your body goes numb, time passes by as you kneel with your eyes shut.

You eventually turn around after what feels like a few hours and stand before opening your eyes. In reality it was probably only a few minutes seeing as how the sun still hasn't set, instead casting tendrils of shadows over your already cold body.